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cursedonyx · 9 days

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How the HL Cast Act When They’re Drunk 🍻

Sebastian Sallow

This lad has three main modes when he’s had a few to drink, and it’s all entirely dependent on how he was feeling beforehand. He will either be the sweetest, cuddliest little snugglebug you’ve ever met, who hugs anyone and everyone regardless of how well he knows them and tells everyone he loves them (unless he’s in an established relationship, then his partner is the only one who receives such ardent affection), or he could be the life and soul of the party, challenging everyone to dares, games and other challenges, accepting pretty much all dares for a laugh, encouraging people to get up and dance and have fun, telling outrageous jokes and more… Or, he will be sullen, moody, and prone to fights. It’s best not to let Sebastian drink too much if he’s in a grump, because it won’t end well.

He's got a pretty good memory for his drunk antics and never gets blackout. This is useful for both making sure his friends are safe and for embarrassing everyone with tales of their conduct the next day, but it’s a double-edged sword, as he will remember everything he did as well.

Ominis Gaunt

A charming man at the best of times, drunk Ominis is a shameless flirt, and will make pretty much everyone fall in love with him at some point during the course of the evening, regardless of which way they swing. He’s got a pretty good head on his shoulders and tends to toe the line of tipsy and inebriated quite well, but if he pitches a bit too far and ends up sauced, his inhibitions are going to go right out the window. He’ll be the first to dance on a tabletop, he swears far more frequently and is prone to showing off a bit, though he still draws the line at public nudity, which is a shame. Chances are, if there’s a piano nearby, he’ll play for everyone with exceptional skill and, if the stars align, he’ll even sing, which is a rare treat for all involved. Mans got the voice of an angel. If he’s in an established relationship, he’s far more comfortable with PDAs and will be much more open to experimenting with his partner once they’re alone.

Though he rarely gets blackout drunk, Ominis can struggle to remember all the details of what he got up to if he has one too many, which without fail will leave him utterly mortified and swearing never to drink again, even if he had a good time. It’ll take a week or two before he’s ready to even have a glass of wine with dinner if he’s embarrassed himself.

Garreth Weasley

Garreth is usually the one to bring his experimental brews to the party and he’s usually swiftly banned from wherever the drinks are being kept. Regardless, after a few bevvies he’s loud, boisterous, and usually found challenging Sebastian to various dares and competitions. A cheerful and popular chap, Garreth is likely to get people singing along to various songs he knows, or ones he’s made up on the spot. Whilst not as tall as Leander, Garreth is a big lad and quite strong too, so any of the girls present might find themselves picked up without warning and swung all about as he tries to dance, and one of his favourite memories of a previous party is trying to pick up all the girls at once and immediately falling over, ending up buried under a pile of laughing women. If Garreth is in an established relationship, very little changes, but you can be safe in the knowledge that even though he's flirting, that’s as far as it will ever go.

Garreth never gets hangovers, no matter how much he drinks, and he’ll be the first one awake the next day, helping to clean up or cook breakfast or make everyone a strong cup of tea.

Leander Prewett

Bless his heart, Leander tries very hard to fit in with his friends and as such will likely end up drinking too much too quickly, meaning he’s usually the first one to suffer the worst effects of drinking. That said, he handles it well, and after chundering once or twice he’s usually ready to keep going. Being a gangly lad, his sense of balance is terrible when he’s blotto, and he’ll trip on a bit of dense air if there’s nothing else to fall over. If the others manage to keep his drinking at a reasonable pace, Leander will often be found trying to flirt with everyone, and though he doesn’t have Ominis’ natural talent for it, he’s a surprisingly smooth talker when he’s not worried about being rejected, and he’s pretty much guaranteed to go home with someone at the end of the night. That is, if he’s single. If Leander is in an established relationship, he’ll follow his partner around, making sure they’re comfortable, warning off potential challenges to his territory, and he won’t even look at another girl.

Leander’s memory of the night before will be hazy at best, and though he knows full well he probably embarrassed himself, he’ll choose to believe he didn’t, so long as no one got hurt.

Amit Thakkar

Amit doesn’t drink much at all, but when he does and has one too many, he’s going to be talking at a mile a minute about whatever’s on his mind, whether that’s his memoirs, his gobbledegook, his stargazing, other people at the party, who he fancies, any gossip he’s overheard, and on and on and on and on. At some point during the night, he stops talking, sits down in the nearest seat, curls up and goes to sleep, no matter how noisy it is, and it’s pretty much like someone flipped a switch. You could be sitting on the sofa with him listening to him babble, then literally a second later he’s out for the count, and he probably won’t wake up for a good few hours, so move him somewhere where he won’t be trodden on. If Amit is in an established relationship, nothing changes about his drunk behaviour, because he’s endearingly loyal at the best of times.

Amit remembers well who he spoke to and what about, but rarely does he realise how much he gabbles on. He tends to take this with a reasonable degree of humility, but aside from hoping he didn’t bore anyone, he’s content that he didn’t embarrass himself.

Andrew Larson

He’s going to be mooning after everyone pretty the moment he gets trashed, and if Ominis is playing the piano, that lad better hope he’s got his girlfriend nearby because Andrew’s going to try his luck and be deeply disappointed by the inevitable rejection. Andrew lives by his emotions and will cry at the drop of a hat or a picture of a cat if he’s had enough to drink, but he will be laughing seconds later if someone falls over or tells him a joke. If the mood takes him, he’ll likely be having long, philosophical debates with anyone who’ll listen (most likely Amit) and he’s prone to wandering off at random moments because he saw something interesting and wants to go on an adventure. He needs a minder. If Andrew is in an established relationship he’s less likely to be a liability because his Alice in Wonderland moments are going to be focused entirely on his partner (and Ominis will remain unaccosted).

Andrew sways between having a good memory for his antics and remembering absolutely nada, sometimes in the same night. Parts of the evening will be clear as day, and parts will be obscured completely. He doesn’t tend to feel too embarrassed for himself, but more for others because it’s a guarantee someone else is going to have done something worse.

Natsai Onai

Even hammered, Natty is the mum friend. She’s the one making sure everyone drinks water in between their booze-infused bevvies, helping people up if they fall over, cleaning up puke and intervening in any brewing fights. Left to her own devices when no one needs her help, she’s sneakily encouraging Garreth to sing rude, memorable shanties, Poppy to climb the walls and jump on people, and Sebastian to run around the garden in the buff because if he doesn’t then Leander will. A master of planting ideas in drunk people’s heads, she usually makes sure things don’t go too far while masterminding entertainment for everyone involved. If Natty is in an established relationship, she’ll still be doing all of the above, but her partner needs to steer her more into the ‘having fun’ side of things so people don’t come to rely on her too much.

She’s got a reasonable memory for drunk happenings, but as she usually doesn’t embarrass herself, she’s pretty good to go the morning after. That said, if Natty does something embarrassing, she goes the whole hog, like the time she got stuck on the roof with only a tea towel for cover. That gets brought up a lot, and she wants to sink into the ground every time it does.

Poppy Sweeting

If you thought Poppy was a nutter beforehand, just wait until she’s got some beers in her. Poppy will be the first to try swinging from the chandelier, the first to encourage everyone to do shots, the first to run around the room with her shirt off, the real life and soul of the party. Once she’s drunk, she’s feral, and will climb over everyone and everything. Once she’s spent her boundless energy, she becomes incredibly cuddly, and if she chooses you to cuddle good luck getting her off you. Regardless of who you’re both respectively dating, you may find yourself going home with Poppy and her partner if the two of you aren’t together and she chooses you to snuggle. It’s not that she’s trying to get you in bed, she just loves cuddles and you smell safe.

She remembers nothing. Absolutely zilch once her blood alcohol level reaches a certain point. No embarrassment either, no matter what she did, she’s just happy everyone had fun.

Imelda Reyes

Competitive as ever, Imelda will likely be challenging people to drinking competitions (and usually Leander’s the only one to take her up on it, most people know better). Imelda has the blood of a Scot (and likely a Viking too) so she can outdrink almost everyone with relative ease. That said, once she’s drunk, she’s drunk. Swaying all over the place, her accent almost incomprehensible, and prone to getting into fights, Imelda is either the worst person to drink with, or the best. If she decides she’s looking after you that night, you’ll not have to worry about a thing, this girl would fight off a dragon for you. If you want to do something, whether it’s playing a certain game, talking to a certain someone, or just chilling outside for a bit, Imelda will make it happen. If you’re not the Chosen One, you can expect things to be very chaotic around Imelda when she gets cunted. If Imelda has a partner, her Chosen One will always be them.

Imelda’s memory is crystal, and no matter what she did, she feels no shame. Why would she? She was only looking out for her bestie or lover, and if someone got offended over that, well then that’s their problem. She’s not responsible for other people’s emotional reactions, after all.

Duncan Hobhouse

Will boast about being able to outdrink Imelda, then throw up and pass out after two butterbeers. Best to move him outside, because he’s going to shit his pants.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagines #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #andrew larson #natsai onai #poppy sweeting #imelda reyes #duncan hobhouse #drunk hogwarts legacy

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cursedonyx · 9 days

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The Bars Between Us (Part 2)

Read Part 1 here

AU in which Sebastian was sent to Azkaban despite Ominis and Dracaena trying to keep his secrets. They spent the next several years trying to free him, and eventually succeeded. Now free from confinement, Sebastian is not the same, Azkaban has sapped him of everything he once was, and Dracaena is determined to bring back the man she knew.

Sebastian has to spend a week in a halfway-house, readjusting to life outside Azkaban before he will be allowed to come home. Dracaena must support him during this time, dealing with his nightmares, his physical weakness, and some very difficult questions that he needs an answer to.

Word Count – 6.7k

It took a long while for sleep to find her. A hundred thoughts chased themselves in circles in her head, yapping and snapping for attention as she stared across the room, her back propped against thin pillows, listening to the faint whisper of wind beyond the window, a faint rustling as it chased a few fallen leaves in circles around the bare courtyard.

At the front of her mind was Sebastian, curled beside her and sound asleep, his brittle limbs wound around her, stripped of almost all muscle and fat. How thin he was. How pale. How empty he seemed. She ran a hand over his hair, the motion calming her fluttering heart.

Immediately following him was Ominis, the man she loved and had committed herself to, heart and body and soul. His gentle smile, his elegant hands, his noble bearing and pure spirit. How she adored him for everything he was, how he seemed to instinctively know her innermost thoughts and desires, ready to comfort or advise before she could even tell him what was on her mind, how he was perfect in every conceivable way.

Next in the baying pack of her thoughts was simple, burning guilt. It was the kind of guilt that made her heart fold in on itself, as if it was shrinking, her anxiety spiking. Guilt for Sebastian’s condition, guilt for not working harder, for not getting him out of that vile place sooner. Guilt for abandoning him. It didn’t matter that she and Ominis had devoted every spare second to freeing him, it hadn’t been enough. They’d fallen in love, and had sometimes spent languid days in each other’s arms, instead of working on Sebastian’s case.

Dracaena winced. That was another level of guilt to add to the tottering tower. How much more could she stack before it teetered and fell?

She had been intimate with Sebastian while she was engaged to Ominis.

Yes, she could tell herself he needed it to feel human. He’d said so. It had made him happy, and she had vowed to make him happy. And yes, she could remind herself that Ominis not only expected her to do so, but had encouraged it. She bit her lip. Why had Ominis encouraged it? He was as devoted to her as she was to him, perhaps even more so. He knew she had once held Sebastian in her heart as she now did him, but was it wrong for her to expect at least a little jealousy? Every other man she’d ever known would have been incensed at the idea.

Not her Ominis. Not her future husband. Her happiness was at the front of his mind, always, as his was with her.

She traced the shape of her ring, unable to see it properly in the darkness, but she knew every detail of it by heart. She’d spent long hours gazing at it, dreaming of her wedding day, showing it off to her friends and colleagues, elated beyond measure, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him, and only him.

Now there was doubt.

She loved Ominis, perhaps more than she had ever loved another person. He was the sun in her sky, the stars of her night, the river that flowed through her very being and gave her life.

She also loved Sebastian. She had loved him all this time, no matter how she had tried to hide it, to forget how his easy laughter and free spirit made her heart soar. To ignore it now would be akin to ignoring the building burning down around her.

Her brows drew together as Sebastian mumbled in his sleep. How could she love both of them so deeply and completely, her feelings for one undiminished as the other bloomed? Surely such a thing wasn’t possible? What would it mean for her impending marriage if she loved another man as much as she loved her fiancé? Ominis might have agreed to her providing Sebastian with the comfort he needed, both physical and emotional, but did that stretch to love? How long could he endure it?

Such were her thoughts as the night slid by, the sky beginning to lighten behind the heavy curtains, the thin line of grey on the ceiling soon becoming peach, then yellow as the sun climbed into the sky. Dracaena found herself dozing fitfully, waking at the slightest sound, the tiniest movement of the man beside her, his head in her lap, his arms locked around her waist, his thigh draped over her shins. On more than one occasion he stirred more vigorously, whimpering and groaning as some nightmare or another played out behind his lids, but all she had to do was pull him close to her, whispering soft, comforting sounds in his ear, stroking his hair and his back until he settled.

She jolted awake with a start, wincing as a thin wire of pain lanced through her neck. She stared about a moment, wondering what had woken her, before she looked down and met Sebastian’s eyes. He was gazing up at her as if she was a unicorn, a phoenix, perhaps, as if he wasn’t quite sure she was real, as if she was the most beautiful thing to ever grace his vision. The sight of him looking at her like that made her heart both swell and shatter, and she reached down, cupping his cheek tenderly.

“How’d you sleep?” she murmured.

Sebastian drew a long breath, letting it out just as slowly.

“Better than I… have in a long… time,” he said, his voice still weak, his eyelids lowing by half, a tiny smile on his face. It faded as quickly as it had come. “Drac… I’m… sorry. About… about last night, I…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him. “Bassy, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through, but I’m here to help you, no matter what you need, okay?”

His jaw tightened. He didn’t say anything else, but his gaze was fixed on her hand, on her engagement ring.

Dracaena shuffled down and pulled him into a tight hug, her fingers winding into his hair and pressing his face into her shoulder, careful not to hold him too firmly. He was so frail she was afraid he might snap if she tightened her arms too much around him.

“Do you want to sleep a little more?” she asked. “There’s a few things I need to do this morning before we get to our list.”

“List?” he echoed, and she explained the rules the Ministry had laid out for them, the daily reports she had to write, the exercises he was expected to do, all those little things that were supposed to prepare him for his re-entrance to civilised society. Sebastian nodded slowly as she spoke, then stirred, sitting up with difficulty. He frowned down at his hands, once large and strong, now skeletal.

“I feel… so weak,” he whispered. “I never noticed… I can barely… even talk properly.”

“Your strength will come back,” she said, smoothing her hand over his back, his skin warm and taut, biting her lip as her fingers traced the protrusions of his spine, the sharpness of his shoulder blades. “It’ll just take time.” She cleared her throat delicately. “Let me get some breakfast going, do you need me to help you with anything?”

Sebastian shook his head slowly, still frowning down at his hands. Dracaena waited a moment longer, then slipped out from under the covers, remembering only then that she was in nothing but her undergarments. By Sebastian’s sharp intake of breath, it seemed she wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Fighting a smile, Dracaena strode for the bathroom and took a quick shower, brushing her teeth then towelling herself dry as fast as she could. Though it seemed to her that Sebastian’s mind was still very much his own, there was a growing prickle in the centre of her chest, a rapidly twisting ball of anxiety that tightened the longer she was away from him.

What if he fell? What if he got hurt, or heaven forbid, did something to himself? He could barely stand upright alone, why the hell had she left him?

Dracaena all but flew back into the main room, her blouse only halfway buttoned, a comb caught in the tangles of her damp hair, pulling up short with a sharp gasp of relief as she saw Sebastian hunched at the tiny table, reading the note pinned to the wall. He jumped as she clattered in, whipping around to face her, his face a mask of terror.

“It’s just me,” she said in a rush, raising her hands and approaching as swiftly as she dared. “I’m sorry Bassy, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He turned away and flopped to the tabletop, his head buried in the crook of his arm. He shivered a little, and she rushed to put her arms around him.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head and shivered again. Dracaena bit her lip, her hand making small circles over his back. He didn’t respond, and she straightened.

“Are you hungry?” she tilted her head, but Sebastian kept his silence. “You should eat something, darling, it’ll help get your strength back.” She backed off towards the cupboards and browsed through, frowning lightly at the poor fare. For some reason, she’d been expecting more to have appeared overnight, or perhaps some more variety to the oats, rice and tins of plain fish and vegetables. Hell, even a few potatoes and onions would make the world of difference. On the inside of the cupboard was a list of suggested meals, and each of these had measurements for each ingredient deliberately underlined.

It had been one of the conversations she’d had with the Aurors before she’d left for Azkaban. Sebastian was only allowed to eat small amounts, or he might get sick. She looked down at the pair of bowls before her, a packet of oats in hand, wishing she was able to at least mix them with hot milk instead of water. Her stomach rumbled, but she didn’t dare add any more to her own bowl than the amount suggested. How could she sit and feast while he starved? It was only for a week, and once he was home, she’d make him something truly delicious.

She curled her lip at the cupboard. Sebastian had always been fond of sweet things, but there wasn’t a grain of sugar or honey to be found.

Dracaena sighed softly and boiled the kettle with a flick of her wand. There wasn’t even tea or coffee, and she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to function without her morning pep.

Sebastian was still slumped over the table when she brought their breakfast over, and for a moment, it seemed like he’d fallen asleep. She nudged him gently, and he stirred. Dracaena bit her lip and grasped his shoulders, helping him sit upright. His gaze was unfocused, his expression hollow. She gently pressed a spoon into his hand, waiting patiently until his fingers curled around it.

“Make sure you finish it,” she said softly, guiding his hand to the table so his wrist rested on the wood, the edge of the spoon resting against the bowl. She settled beside him and devoured her own paltry breakfast, hoping it would encourage him. As much as she loved him, she drew the line at feeding him like a kid when he was capable of doing so himself. “Don’t let it get cold, love.”

Sebastian blinked slowly and began to stir his food, occasionally taking tiny, slow bites. Dracaena couldn’t blame him for the lack of enthusiasm, at least their dinner last night had a little flavour. The porridge tasted like wet cardboard.

Once she was certain he was content with finishing his breakfast, Dracaena summoned the small folio of parchment the Aurors had left with her the previous day. Each sheet held a form for her to fill out, the daily reports she was supposed to write for Sebastian. They’d arrive at ten each morning to collect the one from the previous night, and she winced as she glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past nine. She summoned a quill and ink as Sebastian pushed his empty bowl aside with a grimace and set his head back on his arms with a low sigh. She idly ran a hand over his hair as she eyed the form, tapping the nib of her quill against the inkpot.

The Aurors had been explicit in their expectations. She had to detail everything.

The trouble was, everything included their passion last night. Her throat worked a moment, the tip of her tongue sliding out to capture her lower lip and bringing it between her teeth. She could remember the taste of him vividly, pepper and tang, a slight hint of citrus mixing with the heady scent of sandalwood. Once he had carried the soft musk of old books on his robes, for he was rarely more than an hour away from reading some tome or another. Not now, though, that scent was painfully absent. She tilted her head. There would have been no books in Azkaban.

Dracaena gave herself a little shake and set her quill to the parchment as Sebastian dozed beside her, filling out his name, prison number and all his other personal details. She moved to the Activities section, and hesitated again. She made brief notes, such as cutting his hair, shaving him and helping him bathe, making sure he ate his dinner and sending him to bed. She paused, and swore under her breath.

It wasn’t that she was ashamed of what they’d done. Guilt-ridden, perhaps, but not ashamed. That said, was she even supposed to have entertained him so? Was it really necessary for the Aurors to know she’d buried her face between his thighs and sent him to heaven, if only for a brief time? How the hell would she write it?

She swore again and settled for a partial truth.

Sebastian struggles to sleep alone. He finds comfort in another person’s presence, so I spent the night in his room. He nightmares frequently and wakes screaming if he is by himself.

That would do. She could only hope that the Aurors didn’t push her for any more details than that, for she had no desire to find out what the unspecified Trouble would be if they did.

She jumped as a loud knock came at the door, but it was nothing compared to how Sebastian reacted. He launched himself out of his seat as though he’d been electrocuted, stumbling over his own feet and crashing to the floor with a muted yelp, kicking at the threadbare carpet as he scrambled backward, his eyes wide, his teeth bared in a rictus of sheer terror.

“Sebastian!” Dracaena leapt after him, dropping to her knees as he tried to wedge himself behind the sofa, trembling so hard his teeth chattered. He covered his face, turning away with a low whine as the knock came again, the sharp raps more insistent than before.

“Just a moment!” she called, reaching for Sebastian as he cringed away. “Darling, it’s alright, it’s just the Aurors, they’re here to pick up my report, that’s all.”

Sebastian didn’t respond in any way other than to try and push himself further behind the sofa. It didn’t move an inch, and Dracaena sighed softly, taking the corner of it in her hand and easing it away from the wall. Sebastian tucked himself in further, and she squeezed his shoulder, torn between staying to comfort him and attending to the Aurors outside as the knocks came again, three deliberate, loud bangs. Each of them made Sebastian flinch.

“Just stay there, I’ll be right back,” Dracaena said, scrabbling to her feet and rushing for the door, plucking the report off the table as she went.

She opened the door a crack, peering out at the tall, cloaked men that stood on the step. Their faces held all the expression of a brick wall, and the tallest one held out his hand expectantly. Dracaena swallowed, and passed over the form. Without a word, the Aurors turned as one and stalked away. Dracaena watched them, a light frown on her brow as they crossed the courtyard, two of them veering off to resume their patrol, the tallest one moving to the small building by the gate of the complex and vanishing inside. Muttering under her breath, she closed the door and hurried back to the sofa.

Sebastian had tucked himself so tightly into the tiny gap that for a moment she feared she wouldn’t be able to pull him out. His head was on his knees, his fingers laced together atop his head like a shield. He was shivering, his breath trembling, and she reached out a tentative hand, resting it on his bony shoulder. He flinched.

“They’ve gone,” she said, keeping her voice as low and calming as she could manage. “They won’t be back until tomorrow, you can come out now.”

Sebastian didn’t respond, but he huddled tighter around himself, clamping his hands over his head, his face pressed into his knees. Dracaena shuffled a little closer, her heart aching at what Azkaban had done to her dearest friend. How bright he once was, how cheerful and determined, how clever and witty and smart. How could he have been reduced to this, this cowering man frightened of a simple knock at the door?

“Sebastian,” she gripped his shoulder. “The Aurors will be here at ten o’clock each morning that we’re here to get my report. They won’t take you back, alright? That’s not what they’re here for. Even if they wanted to, I wouldn’t let them. You remember what I can do, right?” she shuffled as close as she could, and he shied away again. “It’s alright, Bassy. I promise you I won’t ever let anyone take you there again. They’d have to kill me before I let them.”

✧˖°⊹ ࣪ ˖ * ˖ ⊹°˖✧

It was past midday before Sebastian was able to unfold himself enough to reach out, and she pulled him to her chest gladly, enveloping his skeletal frame in a gentle, yet insistent embrace. He clung to her with all the strength he could muster, his grip on her blouse little more than a phantom. Dracaena led him to the bathroom and helped him shower, averting her eyes despite the desire to admire him, then supporting him to the bedroom, towelling his hair dry and picking out a new set of clothes from the selection provided by the Ministry.

“We’ll have to get you something more your style when you come home,” she said, pulling a smile onto her face as she browsed through the cheaply made, dull-coloured shirts and trousers in the wardrobe. Sebastian simply sat on the bed, a towel around his waist, his absent gaze fixed on the carpet. Dracaena sighed softly and lifted him to his feet, helping him dress, trying once again to ignore the shape of him as he leaned against her, his head on her shoulder, his hands sliding over her back, then resting on her hips as she sat him back down and buttoned his shirt, his eyes finally focusing on hers.

She knelt before him, and something passed between them, a spark of connection, of longing, something that spoke of adoration and loss, of a love held burning, an ember nursed and nurtured for six long years. In that brief moment she saw him as he had once been, bright-eyed and feisty, flirtatious and gracious, hot-headed and demanding, fiery and consuming.

Her Sebastian. The boy she had grown to love, the man she had stood beside despite it all. Betrayed by an unknown person, stolen from her before either of their young minds could comprehend what such a sentence could mean. She would bring him back, no matter the cost, and rain hell itself down on the soulless bastard that condemned him to a life of torture.

He blinked and looked away.

Dracaena lowered her eyes, frowning at the sharp, thinly laced brogues the Ministry had provided. They had to take a walk about the courtyard, to build up his strength, but even to her the shoes looked uncomfortable, the kind of footwear that would bite just under the ankles, that would pinch the toes, that would nip and squeeze in all the wrong places. She wasn’t even sure if Sebastian could manage the intricate laces, and she’d be damned if she did it for him. For all her luck, she’d tie them too tightly and make them hurt, or too loosely and make him trip. Setting her lips in a thin line, she transfigured them into a pair of comfortable loafers, easy to slip on and off.

Sebastian eased them on and made a face.

“Too tight?” Dracaena asked, as he shuffled his feet.

“No…” he managed, his voice a hoarse rasp. “Just… odd. I’ve not… worn shoes since…” he trailed off, his gaze growing distant and hollow once more.

Dracaena managed a smile and helped him to his feet, throwing a thick cloak about his shoulders. She slipped an arm around his waist, pulling his over her shoulders, and they set off for the door. Stepping out into the cool air made Sebastian tense, and he stared around warily, his eyes lighting on the distant figures of the Aurors patrolling around the perimeter of the fenced complex they found themselves in.

“Come on,” Dracaena laced her fingers with the hand resting limply about her shoulders, her other at his back. “Ten minutes around, that’s all, then we can find something else to do for a bit.”

Sebastian gave a slow nod and they set off at a glacial pace. Though Sebastian was capable of at least walking in a straight line, within the space of two minutes his breathing was laboured, and he leaned more and more upon her until she was practically carrying him.

“Do you need a rest?” she asked, as they made another circuit. Sebastian set his jaw and shook his head, a spark of that old fire glimmering behind his eyes. It was gone in a flash as he lowered his head again, focusing on the ground, but it gave her hope. There was still something of him in there, that fierce determination that drove him so passionately to learn, to fight, to break every rule under the sun and charm his way out of it. A lump formed in her throat, and she brushed away a glimmer at the corner of her eye.

Once their ten minutes were up, Sebastian could barely lift his feet, his grip on her shoulder alarmingly weak. She supported him back to their rooms and the moment the door clicked shut, Sebastian collapsed completely, flopping to the side with a low groan, his complexion a strange mix of flushed and pale. Dracaena cursed under her breath and hooked her free arm under his legs, carrying him to the bedroom and lying him atop the covers before summoning him a glass of water.

She cupped the back of his head as he sipped, then his eyelids fluttered, and he all but passed out, his breathing laboured. Dracaena perched on the side of the bed, biting her lip. He was so much weaker than she’d thought, but she had to keep trying. He had to keep going. She would not let that vile place take him from her forever.

Brushing away cool tears from her cheeks, she moved back into the other room, wondering if she could summon some tea. She and Ominis always felt better after a good cup of tea, surely Sebastian would as well.

As if thinking of her beloved summoned him to her, there came a tapping at the window, and Dracaena opened it to find a pretty barn owl astride the sill, a letter clamped in its beak. She took it, recognising Ominis’ elegant script on the front of the envelope. She slit the parchment eagerly, heading back to the bedroom to read, absently pulling a spare blanket over Sebastian’s sleeping form.

My darling Dove,

I am delighted to hear that you and Sebastian are safe and well, or at least as well as can be expected. I feared he would be somewhat insane from the torment he endured, but it gladdens me to know he has you to support him, whatever he needs.

I miss you terribly, my love, but I know it will only be a few short days before both you and my true brother are back home, where you belong. I have taken the liberty of preparing one of our spare bedrooms for Sebastian, though I am somewhat at a loss for what decoration he would prefer, having never had an understanding of such things. Perhaps you might enlighten me as to what he would like, and I will endeavour to make it so. I’m sure the Ministry will spare us a few House Elves to assist with the project, Spavin has rarely been one to deny me. Does he need a new wardrobe as well? Do send me his measurements if so, I’ll purchase a selection for him.

I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, Dove, to endure this alone. I do wish I had come with you, but fear it would overwhelm him. I shall simply wait for your return, eager for the feel of you in my arms once more.

Do keep me updated on his progress, I will be most keen to hear all the details once you’re home safe.

All of my love to you and more,

Ominis

Dracaena sighed, a smile resting on her lips as she read the letter over and over. Five and a half days, and she would be back home with him.

And Sebastian.

She glanced at him, judging that he would sleep for at least an hour or two. His breathing had steadied, and she brushed a strand of hair off his forehead, her hand curving down to cup his cheek, missing how they had once been so full, bordering on chubby, but never quite making it there. Her eyes lingered on his freckles, tracing patterns between each fleck of caramel and amber, and she caught herself sighing.

She drafted a quick reply to Ominis, telling him how much she missed him, giving a brief update on Sebastian’s condition, providing the required measurements he requested via sneaky use of a conjured tape measure, pausing only to wonder how Sebastian would like his bedroom to be decorated. To her dismay, she hadn’t the first clue. She’d been to the Sallow's old cottage, though Sebastian never had his own bed there and Anne had decorated it to her preference once Solomon had died, and Sebastian's dorm at Hogwarts was decorated in the Slytherin fashion, all emeralds and silvers and dark woods. She’d never asked if it was his style, if he liked it.

There was a lot she’d never had the chance to ask him, caught up as they were in his quest to cure Anne and her own trials with Ancient Magic. She could hardly remember a time they’d just sat down and had a normal conversation, getting to know each other better. Everything she knew of him was inferred by what she saw, the adventures they had, and the snatches of his history he gifted her when he provided context as to why he was trying to hard to help his twin.

The twin he no longer had.

Dracaena sighed, added a line to her letter for Ominis to keep his room neutral for now, and they could decide when they were home. She sent it off with a tawny owl and frowned at the kettle. If she didn’t get some caffeine soon, she was going to become irritable, and that would be disastrous for both her and Sebastian. The thought of snapping at him chilled her.

She heard movement from the bedroom and hurried back to find Sebastian stirring. She settled on the edge of the bed and took his hand as he woke, smiling gently as his eyes found hers.

“Feel better?”

He gave a slight shrug, struggling to sit, the blanket pooling in his lap. Dracaena drew her wand and levitated it off him, folding it with a flick. He eyed it, and she smiled.

“We’ve lots to get you when we get home,” she said. “Ominis is going to get you a whole new wardrobe, won’t that be nice?”

Sebastian tilted his head, looking mildly surprised.

“I’m sure it’ll only be a few outfits to start with, but we’ll all take a trip to Diagon Alley once you’re feeling up to it,” she continued. “We’ll have lots to get, parchment and ink and books. We’ll get you a whole library, Bassy, anything you want.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, his deep eyes taking on a faraway look, and Dracaena glanced at her wand.

“We’ll need to get you a new wand, as well,” she said, and Sebastian’s eyes dimmed, the corners of his mouth turning down.

“I want… my wand,” he said.

Dracaena understood, and she squeezed his hand gently. The thought of being parted from her wand was akin to being parted from her hand, and for someone to take it, to snap it in half as if it had no more value than a simple twig… she shuddered at the thought, and slid an arm around his shoulders.

“It’ll be alright,” she soothed. “Ollivander will have something that’s just perfect for you, you’ll see. We can even get a handle that matched your old one, yeah?”

Sebastian looked away, leaning against her and sighing deeply. She nuzzled his hair, allowing herself to indulge in the scent of it for a few heartbeats.

“I know it won’t be the same,” she said. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” she pulled back a little and ruffled his hair gently, the motion similar to how she used to wind him up when she had the chance, playfully messing up his wild waves until he did the same to her, the pair of them laughing so freely. He didn’t laugh now, but he leaned away, turning to face her.

He met her eyes, an intensity dancing there that had long been absent, and she stilled. That look had always made her skin prickle delightfully, as if he was staring into her soul and seeing her for all that she was, and it always promised that trouble was soon to follow.

“When did… Anne die?” he asked.

Dracaena froze.

“You… you know?” she said, stunned.

Sebastian turned away, an agony on his face so similar to that of a victim of Crucio that she was surprised he didn’t howl with pain.

“I… suspected,” he said, the end of the words cracking. “You… confirmed it… just now.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching for him, but he didn’t react to her touch. “Bassy… she fought so hard, for so long.”

“When?” he repeated.

“Three years ago,” she said, and he loosed a tiny, broken sound that pierced right through her heart. “I wanted to let you know, to visit, hell, even to send an owl, but we weren’t allowed. We tried everything, I promise.”

He shook his head, his shoulders beginning to quiver, and Dracaena tugged him back to her, a hand at the back of his head, her fingers winding into his hair until he slumped against her, his arms rising, grasping at her blouse.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “We… Ominis and I, we buried her on that nice hill in Feldcroft. Ominis said she used to like the view there. It’s right under an apple tree, so she gets blossoms twice a year. We… we take a trip every couple of months to leave her fresh flowers. I was going to tell you Bassy, I swear I was, I just… I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Sebastian didn’t answer her, but his shoulders still shook with restrained sobs, the neck of her blouse growing sodden as she held him, the light outside dimming as the coolness of autumn pushed the twilight into the sky.

✧˖°⊹ ࣪ ˖ * ˖ ⊹°˖✧

It was almost nine o’clock by the time Sebastian stirred, and Dracaena cupped his cheek, tilting his face to hers and kissing him gently. Sebastian leaned into it with a low groan, but she pulled back, searching his face.

“You doing okay?”

It was a foolish question, but Sebastian nodded.

“I knew,” he said, his voice low. “I… knew… somehow. I just… didn’t know when. Thank you… for telling me.” He leaned in to brush his lips over hers once more. She allowed it for a moment, then moved to kiss his cheek.

“You should eat something,” she said. “We missed lunch, darling. You must be famished.”

Indeed, her stomach was doing a rather marvellous impression of a grumpy hippopotamus, but Sebastian shook his head.

“I’m… not hungry.”

She frowned a little. “Bassy, you have to. I don’t want you wasting away, there’s barely anything to you as it is.”

He shot her a glower, but far from upsetting her, her heart leapt. There was the Sebastian she knew, the argumentative, stubborn man she knew so well.

“I said… I’m not… hungry.”

She fought a smile. He’d been able to manipulate her once, using his charm and intelligence to sway her into doing almost anything he wanted. She’d not forgotten what she’d learned from him.

“Please?” she said, letting her eyes widen a fraction, her brow knitting. “For me, Bassy? I’m worried about you. Won’t you just have a little, to make me happy?”

He curled his lip in a sulky grimace, and it was a struggle not to laugh at such a display of petulance.

“The food here… tastes… like the way… Prewett’s robes… used to smell.”

“I’ll try not to be offended,” she said cheerily, and Sebastian shot her a guilty look.

“Sorry.”

She did laugh this time, and rumpled his hair, drawing a tiny smile from him. He allowed her to help him to his feet and lead him to the table, and he winced a little as they went.

“What is it?” she asked, peering at him in concern.

“Ache…” he said, and made an inarticulate gesture. “Legs… my back.”

“Hm.” Dracaena settled him at the table. “That’ll probably just be because you’re not used to moving around so much. Tell you what, I’ll make us some dinner, and if you eat it all, I’ll give you a massage, how’s that sound?”

Sebastian glanced at her, and she noted a definite spark of interest. “Alright.”

She quickly busied herself at the stove to hide her grin, ferreting around in the cupboards above. To her absolute delight, she discovered a pound of butter wrapped in wax paper hidden behind the tins. Yes, the Aurors had advised not to feed Sebastian anything too fatty, but he needed to put some weight back on, and soon. She repeated their first meal of white fish and beans, and absolutely drenched it in butter, crumbling a little salt over it for flavour. She’d have to ask Ominis if he could possibly send something a bit more hearty than the crap they’d been provided.

Sebastian brightened after the first mouthful, even smiling a little as he tucked in.

“Better?” Dracaena asked, the small dinner barely making a dent in her own hunger, but that mattered little.

“Yeah,” he said. “Much. Thanks.” He glanced at her, then away again, rubbing the back of his neck and giving a slightly exaggerated wince. “What… now?”

She withheld a smirk, knowing full well he was thinking of her hands gliding over his back. She was thinking of the exact same thing, and the realisation sent a flash of guilt into her belly. Merlin’s arse, she was engaged! She knew it would help him, to soothe his sore muscles, but she knew all too well where such things could lead. Whenever she favoured her fiancé with such a treat, it always ended in deliciously lazy, loving sex.

Her cheeks warmed as she thought of him, his alabaster form scattered with beauty marks melting under her hands. By god, she’d give anything to have him here. Even now, after years together, the thought of him made her stomach flutter.

Sebastian was still stealing furtive looks at her, and Dracaena smiled, tilting her head at the sofa. “Lie down over there, love. I won’t be a moment.”

Aside from when he’d had his fright from the Aurors knocking on the door, Dracaena was quite certain this was the fastest she’d seen Sebastian move as he almost darted for the sofa, perching on the edge as he fixed his eyes on her. She tidied up the plates, giving herself a mental pep talk, trying to convince herself to behave, to keep a firm line between the comfort he needed and letting things get too far.

Taking a steadying breath, she turned back to him and gestured for him to lie down. He obeyed instantly and she leaned over, plumping one of the cushions to rest his head on. She settled herself beside him and rested a hand on the small of his back.

“Usually this is done without a shirt,” she said, almost guiltily. “You don’t have to take it off, of course, only if you’re comf-”

He was struggling with the garment before she’d even finished speaking, and she huffed a soft laugh, reaching over to help him out of it. He gave her a shy smile, his eyes bright.

“You’re… okay with this?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied with far more confidence than she really felt. She knew what Ominis liked, and his slender frame hid a surprising amount of taut, elegantly defined muscle. Sebastian was all skin and bones, what if she hurt him by accident? She swallowed past a drying throat. “Just… try to relax, okay? Let me know if you need me to stop or change anything, yeah?”

Sebastian nodded, closing his eyes as Dracaena set her palms on his shoulders, moving them in small, slow circles, watching the slice of profile she could see. His expression didn’t change, but his features relaxed a little, and a long, slow sigh left him as she slid her hands over his shoulder blades, applying light pressure. The motion seemed to soothe him, the tightness in his back easing slightly as she followed the direction of his spine, easing her hands almost to his hips, then back up to the base of his neck.

She tried to think of anything but the feel of him under her hands as she worked, but soon realised this was an exercise in futility as he let out a soft, breathy groan, wriggling his shoulders against her hands. Dracaena closed her eyes a moment, then increased the pressure marginally, the corner of her lips pulling out in a crooked smile when Sebastian hummed contentedly, his long, bony fingers digging into the sofa cushions. Each time she moved her hands down to his hips she paused, feeling him tuck them forward, pushing into the sofa.

She fought with herself for a solid half an hour until she decided she just couldn't do it. Not now. Not tonight. Dracaena drew a soft breath and pulled her hands away, her regret palpable.

“Better?” she asked, quietly.

Sebastian mumbled something unintelligible, reaching back for her hand. It didn’t take a genius for her to know what he was asking, but she couldn’t. Mustn’t. She took his hand instead, giving it a light squeeze, and he seemed to understand, a tiny, sad-sounding whine murmured into the sofa.

“I don’t want to do too much,” Dracaena whispered. “It… can damage your muscles if we do too much.”

While true, the excuse still rang hollow to her, and it was with no small level of guilt and confusion that she helped Sebastian roll onto his side and curl up around her, his head in her lap. She stroked his hair until he fell asleep, staring at the wall opposite as the room darkened to black around her. Whether she would manage the rest of the week without messing up again, she wasn’t sure, but no matter what he had said or implied, her Ominis deserved better than that.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #mc x sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #dracaena hoctina #post azkaban sebastian

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cursedonyx · 12 days

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ISTG if I see one more Temu ad I'm going to go to their headquarters and shit on their ceo.

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cursedonyx · 12 days

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✨Having someone who is invested in your story and discusses it with you is like a solid half of the fun of writing. I'm not even kidding.✨

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cursedonyx · 13 days

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I feel called out

yeah sex is cool I guess

but have you ever had someone leave a comment with a paragraph-long review of your fanfic containing genuine praise, thorough criticism, and an in-depth analysis of all the lore hints you dropped that you spent ages intricately crafting

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cursedonyx · 14 days

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HL Cast in a Muggle Nursing Home

Time has passed, as it does so well, and our sweethearts have all ended up in the same nursing home in the late 1900s/early 2000s for the sake of convenience. Why a muggle nursing home? Why not?

Sebastian Sallow

Still a troublemaker through and through. Sebastian’s charm has only increased with age, and it only takes a wink and a smile before whatever tomfoolery he got into is forgiven. He has no concept of curfew (has he ever?) and will regularly wander off either alone or with Ominis to see if they can get into mischief or visit the local library (or pub). He will absolutely use his advanced age to excuse whatever nonsense he gets up to, but he’s still sharp as a tack and perfectly lucid. He really enjoys quieter moments as well, settling in his favourite chair with a good book, though the muggle TV holds a lot of fascination for him. He loves watching The Bill, and he once stole a muggle policeman’s hat, though his absolute favourite thing to watch is cartoons, particularly Tom and Jerry.

He doesn’t have family to visit him, he never had children, but he’s more than okay with that. He’s got his friends and his partner, and that’s all that matters to him.

Ominis Gaunt

Extremely proud, he refuses even the slightest help, and gets very angry if the staff don’t respect this. He would quite literally rather die than have someone help him shower or feed him, and he has on occasion used the Confundus charm on staff that won’t leave him alone. Aside from this, he is unendingly polite to the staff and generally keeps out of trouble, unless he feels things have gotten too quiet. Then, it’s a whisper in Sebastian’s ear, and the pair of them cause no end of bother, reliving their school days with abject glee. His favourite muggle invention over the last century is absolutely personal audio players, and he’s got a little mp3 player stuffed full of audiobooks and dramas. Make sure he’s got plenty of tea and a good stack of sandwiches, pop him in a patch of sunlight, and he’ll happily stay there all day, listening to his books.

Similarly to Sebastian, Ominis never had children, but he’s content with this decision. Considering what happened with Voldemort, he’s even more convinced that he did the right thing by not breeding. He and his wife are perfectly happy together as they are. Besides, the other's grandchildren/great-grandchildren get on his nerves, and he'll hide away if they visit.

Garreth Weasley

Loves a spongebath, our Garreth. He’s definitely the type to pretend he’s more helpless than he actually is just so he can flirt with the staff. He has absolutely dropped something on purpose and asked for someone to pick it up for him just so he can smirk at the view as they bend over. He’s energetic for his age and has visitors from his family at least twice or thrice a week, who always try and convince him to come and live with one of them instead. The main reason he’s here instead of at home is so he can keep Leander company. Garreth’s not able to experiment with potions so much in a muggle nursing home, so he’s swapped his passion for potions into culinary experiments. He’s a surprisingly talented chef, and when he’s allowed in the kitchen, everyone enjoys a magnificent meal. He keeps up a friendly rivalry with Sebastian and Ominis (house pride and all that), but over the decades they’ve all become extremely good friends.

Leander Prewett

Leander’s grown in confidence over the years into quite a suave person. Of course, it's not a patch on Ominis’ charm but he’s no longer interested in imitating people to try and seem impressive – he’s just happy with who he is. He’s developed a bit of an eccentric fashion sense and his wardrobe is huge. Poppy can often be found raiding his closets looking for something he doesn’t wear anymore so she can make outfits for her pets. He’s still reserved in some ways, and his favourite thing to do is potter about in the garden (usually wearing his favourite feather boa and some 1991 novelty glasses that he picked up somewhere). He does sneakily grow some magical plants among the usual muggle ones, and it always makes him chuckle when the staff think they’re hallucinating the big bush by the window moving by itself. If the weather’s not right for gardening, he’s tinkering with muggle items, and Garreth’s great-grandson, Arthur, is more than happy to show him a thing or two.

Natsai Onai

Natty is the kind of granny everyone loves to sit by as she tells the most fantastical stories. She’s filled out quite a lot over the years, and she gives the warmest hugs. Natty’s more often than not surrounded by all the grandchildren of all the residents that have them, including her own, who call her ‘Nana Nats,’ much to her delight. She’s a published author, writing about her adventures at Hogwarts and as an Auror as though they were fantasy detective stories. Though she’s quite well off because of this, she stays here with her friends and uses her money to always make sure there are sweets for the grandchildren and presents for her friends and the staff. In quieter moments, she’s either cozied up with Amit or taking tea with the girls, gossiping and pouring over muggle magazines about knitting and crochet. She adores making jumpers for everyone for Christmas.

Poppy Sweeting

Poppy is just as obsessed with animals as she has been all her life, and she’s constantly rescuing birds that fell out of their nests, squirrels with injured paws, hedgehogs that need a good clean, not to mention the veritable army of stray cats that know they’ll get fed if they come to this particular nursing home. The staff have long given up trying to stop this, and Poppy’s bedroom looks kind of like what would happen if Snow White sang for three hours straight. She frequently frightens the life out of the staff when they find her halfway up a tree in her slippers and poncho, trying to see baby birds in their nests.

When she’s not hoarding every wild animal under the sun, Poppy can most often be found trying to use the internet to learn more about animals, or watching nature documentaries by Sir David Attenborough (something she and Ominis share a fondness for). She enjoys helping Garreth in the kitchen when he’s allowed, especially if he’s baking, but that’s mainly so she can lick the bowl.

She leaves cat hair everywhere.

Amit Thakkar

Amit is a kindly old grandpa who knows more about space and the cosmos than perhaps anyone else alive, and he’s written several books on the subject that are popular in both wizarding and muggle communities, though he is best known as one of the country’s leading Magical Historians. He delights in sharing this knowledge with anyone who will listen, and he’s usually got a pocketful of Indian sweeties to share with anyone who endures his lectures for longer than ten minutes. He likes to keep active and loves going out for walks with Natty when they’re both feeling up to it before enjoying a hot chocolate and retiring for a nap.

Imelda Reyes

Imelda achieved her dream of becoming an International Quidditch Star, and even now, seventy years later, she will not shut up about it. Her trophies are proudly displayed in her room along with banners and posters that she’s had to charm to stop the muggle staff noticing anything weird, and if asked, she poutingly tells them she used to be a Rugby star, which is also true. Imelda played Rugby in between playing quidditch, and she was very, very good at it. She adores the sport and watches it religiously on the muggle TV, deriding football as a ‘game for ninnies.’ Any Rugby matches happening nearby, no matter who’s playing, she’s going to nab herself some tickets and go. Poppy frequently tags along to these, and these two little old ladies cause no end of mayhem once there. They’ve even been on the news a few times by accident.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #leander prewett #poppy sweeting #natsai onai #amit thakkar #imelda reyes #hogwarts legacy imagine

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cursedonyx · 14 days

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Hooooooo boy.

Thank you very much for the tag @wedonthaveawhile, I'm a little worried because I have an obscene amount of WIPS that most likely will never be finished 😅 Titles in bold are WIPs available for reading and can likely be found in my Masterlist.

How to Play:

Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or (a sneak peek for art) tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

✧˖°⊹ ࣪ ˖ Hogwarts Legacy WIPs ✧˖°⊹ ࣪ ˖

Hogwarts Legacy: The Price of Power - my current priority and main fic standing at over 100 chapters and updating twice weekly. I have no concept of moderation.

Book 2 - the sequel to tPoP ^^^ (It has an actual title but I'm not revealing that yet)

Taming the Serpent - an Ominis fic

The Bars Between Us - mostly Seb fic

Professor Fig Adopts the Emerald Trio - self explanatory

Of Creatures and Cauldrons - a slow burn angsty unrequited crush with a happy ending Poppy x Garreth

Brewing Desires - Prof Garlick x Prof Sharp

Unpublished WIPs 👇🏻

All Tied Up and Nowhere to Come - Sub!SebxMC

Food Fight - a scene I was going to include in my main work that couldn't fit anywhere that I might make into its own thing

Garreth x Leander - my fave MLM ship

HL Cast React to You Showing Them a Muggle Sex Toy

Massage - Ominis sleeping on floors gives him a bad back

Modern AU Nonsense

Obliviated Omi

Poppy x Melly

Precious Locket modern AU - OmixMC

Permanent Sticking Charm - OmixMC - MC wriggles a lot

Sebastian Makes a New Friend - Seb gets adopted by a cat

Spiders Are Awful

Subby Bash WOOOO - don't ask

This Time for Sure - HL retelling timeloop

The above doesn't include the fifty-six or so ideas I have cluttering up my brain that I've not had a chance to write yet 😅

I don't think I know enough people to do a tag for all my WIPs...

No pressure guys! @blackhehecat @shingodzilla98 @imagrindylow @morelikeravenbore @sallowgauntsupremacy

WIP Folder game!

I was tagged by @snowfolly to join. Thank you so much for the tag, sweetie! :3

How to Play:

I'll categorize them by fandom. They're in varying degrees of completeness and anywhere from a few paragraphs to 27 pages. XD

Dragon Age

Redcliffe Chantry

DAO Redcliffe

DAO The Ritual

DAO Epilogue

DAO Kissing in the Rain

To Rainesfere

DAI Redcliffe

DAI Trespasser

Hogwarts Legacy

Scriptorium

HL A Life Together

Original Fiction

An Elven Tale

Elven Tale: Shackled

Elven Tale Courage Coming Out

I'm not sure if I have this many to tag, but if you see this and want to join, please do! Tagging @wingedwartigers @sillyliterature @anto-pops @fantasy-art-room @oxygenforthewicked @blueraineshadows @just-another-fanfiction-writer @queen-of-stoneharts @kittynomsdeplume @tessa1972 No pressure!

#hogwarts legacy

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cursedonyx · 14 days

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Helloo

(English isn‘t my first Language). I‘m new in the hogwarts legacy fandom and adore your fanfictions and cute stuff around a lot!

Could you write just a little Fanfic about mc is sick and fig is taking care? Haven‘t found a sickfic about them but have the feeling i need it because i love their parent-child-like relationship. >w<

Have a nice day!

Sorry it took a while, but I hope this is what you were looking for!

Professor Fig looks after MC when they're poorly.

Word Count - ~800

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MC felt like ass.

They’d woken that morning with a sniffly nose, but by the time they’d dragged themselves out of bed and to the Great Hall for breakfast, they’d realised something was terribly wrong. Everything they ate tasted like cardboard, and no matter how much they drank, their head just didn’t stop hurting. Their muscles were like water, and it was a struggle to stay awake.

Professor Fig noticed as they staggered up from their house table, swaying alarmingly and almost toppling over backwards. He was on his feet in a moment and rushing to their side, supporting them gently.

“We need to get you to the Hospital Wing,” he said, propping them up as the other students craned to get a look at the commotion.

MC shook their head as quickly as they could, then stopped when it made them dizzy. They hated hospitals, and Fig knew this as well as anyone. With a low sigh, he tugged their arm over his shoulders and supported them out of the Great Hall, eventually bending to scoop their legs and carry them when it became clear they weren’t going to be able to walk all the way up to his office.

Once there, Fig laid them on the sofa and covered them with a blanket, peering in concern at their shiny red nose and puffy eyes. He picked up a cloth and mopped at the beads of sweat on their brow.

“Dear oh dear,” he said. “You’ve come down with quite the illness, it seems. You must have been overexerting yourself again, hm?”

MC nodded vaguely, and it rather seemed to Fig that they weren’t completely lucid. He cooled the cloth with a charm and laid it on their forehead, settling back on his haunches and watching them with deep concern. It was no secret that he’d grown to care deeply for MC, as if they were his own, and it pained him greatly to see them so unwell.

He levitated a chair over and sat upon it, wondering what to do. Obviously the best thing to do would be to have them under the care of Madam Blainey, but MC was deathly afraid of hospitals and anything resembling them. It’d only serve to distress them.

Fig sat back and ran a hand over his face. He remembered rather well all the times he’d been poorly as a boy, curled up in his bed or on the threadbare sofa his parents owned. A smile touched his lips as he remembered his father reading to him in his sonorous voice, lulling him to sleep, his mother making a hearty chicken broth on the stove to soothe his sore throat.

That would be it, then. If MC wouldn’t go to the hospital wing or take any medicine, he’d just have to do it the old-fashioned way.

Making sure that MC was as comfortable as possible and asleep, Fig darted down to the kitchens and begged the house elves for ingredients for a soothing chicken broth. It took a while to convince them that no, he didn’t want them to make it for him, he just wanted the ingredients, and maybe a recipe or two. He had to do this himself, it wouldn’t be the same if the elves did it for him. The best part of a homemade, healthsome soup was the fact it was made with love.

Fig carted the ingredients back to his office and cooled the cloth on MC’s brow again, checking to see if there had been any improvement. They were sound asleep, but their breathing was laboured and their fever was high. Setting his lips in a thin line, Fig conjured a cauldron and began to prepare a wholesome soup.

MC woke a few hours later, the rich scents of chicken and thyme pushing through the stuffiness of their nose. Wincing, they shifted on the sofa, wondering where they were, but Fig was beside them in an instant, pressing a small bowl of steaming soup into their hands. When MC proved they could spoon it into their mouth unaided, Fig shuffled onto the sofa behind their head, letting them rest against him as they devoured the broth and asking for seconds, warmed from the toes up by this magical brew that seemed to clear their head and soothe their spirit.

Fig chuckled, making sure they had plenty to drink, and summoned a book of fairy tales into his hand. He opened to a random page and began to read, his soft, gentle voice filling his office as MC set their bowl aside and curled up, their head in his lap, their eyelids fluttering as they listened to him read. Within the hour, they were asleep, but Fig kept reading, hoping that the stories he told would somehow wind their way into MC’s dreams, giving them fantastical visions of the impossible, knowing in his heart that they were capable of all that and more.

#hogwarts legacy #eleazar fig #professor fig #sickfic #caretaking

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cursedonyx · 14 days

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Gimmie ideas or I'll have to gremlin it and hope for the best

#garreth x leander #leander x garreth #hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #leander prewett

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cursedonyx · 15 days

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Professor Fig Adopts the Emerald Trio (Part 2)

The second instalment of an AU in which Professor Fig has survived, and has adopted Sebastian, Ominis and Dracaena.

Part 1

Sixth year begins and with it comes the NEWT preparations. Fig discusses with the Trio what careers they might take, and tries to help Ominis begin to process his childhood trauma. Sebastian and Dracaena end up in possession of contraband.

Word Count – 5.7k

Warnings – Mentions of childhood abuse (Ominis) | Contraband (drugs)

The summer of 1891 was an enjoyable affair for the Emerald Trio. Dracaena, Sebastian and Ominis spent most of their days taking full advantage of the mostly empty castle, exploring every nook and cranny and delving into places they were more than certain they shouldn’t be, before retiring for the evening and having dinner with their new guardian, Professor Fig.

Dracaena took the opportunity early on in the summer to show them all, including Fig, the Room of Requirement, revelling in the praise heaped upon her by her mentor and her best friends for all she’d done with the space. It became a retreat of sorts for her and her best friends, a far warmer and more comfortable hidden spot than the Undercroft, which they visited only on rare occasions (and mostly when hiding from Peeves). Fig didn’t come into the Room all too often, telling the trio that it was their space, and he’d only enter if he needed them for something that couldn’t wait. That didn’t stop him enjoying his frequent invitations, particularly enjoying spending time with the beasts Dracaena had acquired during her adventures, and bonding with the Phoenix that she had named Miriam.

But time marched on, and summer eventually came to a close. The other students came back, and word quickly spread that the three were now cared for by none other than one of their own Professors. Some muttered irritably that they were now protected from consequences, and others tried to test the waters by teasing and attempted hexes, but they were dealt with as Sebastian, Ominis and Dracaena had always dealt with irritants. Swiftly and without mercy, which landed them all detention before the first week of term had ended.

The weekend arrived, and Dracaena lounged on one of the sofas in the Room of Requirement, her feet propped in Sebastian’s lap, occasionally tickled as he turned a page of the book he was reading. Ominis was tending to a large Flutterby bush he’d been cultivating all through the summer, and Professor Fig was seated at an elegant desk, marking homework. Deek swanned around, a smile on his face as he offered them all tea and biscuits, the light pattering of his feet accompanying the gentle music piped from a magical gramophone.

With a light sigh, Fig placed the last essay onto the pile and leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face as Miriam the Phoenix ruffled her feathers from the perch behind him. He eyed the three Slytherins, one corner of his lips lifting and pulling out a touch. His charges. His kids. His smile broadened, and he decided to disrupt the soft peace by clearing his throat.

“I think we all need to have a little chat,” he said, fighting to make his expression stern as all three of them stilled, throwing guilty looks to each other, Ominis doing a remarkable job of it, all things considered. He let the silence hang a long moment as they turned to him, then he chuckled.

“About your future careers,” he clarified, smirking like a schoolboy as his adopted charges all uttered various sounds of relief and irritation at his little joke.

“Merlin’s arse, Elly!” Dracaena said, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “You made me think we were in for a bollocking!”

He chuckled, warmed by the freedom with which she now spoke to him, her comfort with his presence obvious. The lads weren’t quite so informal, but that would come with time. At least they all still called him ‘Professor’ when they were around the rest of the school. He waved a hand, and the three gathered in front of his desk, conjuring their preferred chairs and settling before him.

He clasped his hands and leaned forward with a smile. “So, any thoughts on what you want to do once you’re finished with Hogwarts? I know the careers advice of last year might not have sunk in with all you endured.”

Dracaena was the first to answer, ever eager and certain of herself.

“I thought being an Auror would be good,” she said.

“Yeah, I thought about that too,” Sebastian agreed. “Or maybe a cursebreaker, or research, or something like that.”

“Marvellous ideas,” Fig said, turning to Ominis. “What about you?”

He gave an elegant shrug. “I’ve no idea.”

“Surely you must have some thoughts?” Fig pressed.

Ominis twisted the corner of his mouth. “Nope,” he replied, his hands tightening in his lap.

Sebastian and Dracaena shared a significant look at this oddly colloquial word, and Sebastian cleared his throat.

“You know, I’ve got to go grab something from the library,” he said. “Care to give me a hand, Drac?”

“Yep,” she jumped to her feet, and caught Fig’s eye, tilting her head meaningfully at Ominis with a look that said he needs your help. Ominis began to rise, but Dracaena put her hand on his shoulder, leaned down, and whispered in his ear. A flash of fear crossed his face, but his friends were already halfway out the door.

“Well…” Eleazar cleared his throat gently as the young Slytherin before him shuffled his feet, looking for all the world as if he wished he was anywhere but here. “Is… everything alright, Ominis?”

His shoulders tensed immediately.

“What have they said?” he demanded. “There’s nothing wrong with me!” Almost instantly, another flash of fear lit on his elegant features. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Frowning lightly, Eleazar got to his feet, and the young Slytherin bolted out of his chair, taking several steps back. Alarmed, Eleazar followed, raising his hands.

“Ominis, it’s alright, you're not in trouble,” he said. Far from relaxing the lad, he seemed to become more agitated, his eyes darting around, as if he was seeking an escape he couldn’t see. “Come on now, come and sit with me, and we’ll have a nice cup of tea, and a chat about whatever’s bothering you, hm?”

Ominis looked terrified.

“You think he’ll be alright?” Dracaena said, following Sebastian through the castle. “I feel awful, like we were abandoning him.”

“Nah, He’ll be fine,” Sebastian said, the back of his hand occasionally bumping hers as they walked side-by-side. “Fig really helped me, more than I thought he would, and Merlin knows Ominis has some heavy shit to get off his chest.”

Dracaena sighed. “All the same, I do feel a bit guilty. He always seems so much happier when we’re with him.”

“Well, you,” Sebastian grumbled under his breath.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing.”

She chuckled, and took his arm, causing a blush to flow up the back of his neck. “So, what was that thing you needed to get?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Sebastian grinned. “I’ve been trying to get Ominis alone with Fig for ages now, and didn’t want to waste the opportunity.”

“Is that the only reason?” Dracaena teased, and the blush crept onto Sebastian’s cheeks. He glanced away.

“Fancy a walk?” he said, gesturing vaguely at the windows. “The weather’s good.”

They made their way down to the grounds and took an easy, rambling route, meandering up to the quidditch pitch to spy on the Gryffindor team’s practice for a few minutes before they were chased off by an irritable Madam Kogawa, losing ten points apiece for Slytherin. They decided it was worth it. Giggling together, they wandered off in the vague direction of Hogsmeade, before Sebastian glanced meaningfully at the Forbidden Forest.

“We've only landed the one detention so far,” he said casually. “I feel a bit strange without getting into trouble every now and then. How about it, Hoctina, you feeling brave enough to go in?”

Dracaena gave him a level look, trying not to grin at the cheeky smile on his face. “You do know I was in and out of that Forest more often than I was our common room last year, right?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Rubbish. Yeah I get that there’s a load of rumours about you, but you don’t need to make them up to impress me. We already did loads together that would scare the pants of most people.”

“So why are you doubting me?” Dracaena said, sufficiently rankled. She dropped his arm and marched over the tiny bridge, her nose in the air, Sebastian scampering along behind her. His free laughter told her he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and she sighed, chuckling a little herself at how easily he’d played her. He’d always had such a talent for it.

“Hang on,” Sebastian said, after trekking down the path for a good ten minutes and occasionally blasting spiders out of the trees. “What’s this?”

Dracaena paused, peering at the tangle of thorns Sebastian was investigating. A battered pair of boots poked out, and she felt the familiar prickle of cold shiver up her spine, the same feeling she got whenever she saw a dead body.

“Careful,” Sebastian said, as she stepped closer. He held out a hand to stop her. “There’s a Devil’s Snare in there, probably what got the poor bugger. It’s hiding now because the sun’s up, but still, be on your guard.” He used his wand to levitate a few of the brambles out the way. “Looks like he was a courier, there’s a parcel there. Maybe we could deliver it on his behalf?”

“Good idea,” Dracaena said. “But why was he walking through the Forest if he was delivering something?”

Sebastian accioed the parcel into his hands and frowned as he turned it over, a light clinking coming from within.

“No address,” he said, and picked at the string tying the brown paper together. “I wonder what…”

The paper fell away, and Sebastian’s brows went up as several tiny bottles were revealed, all neatly packed together in a small crate. Each tiny bottle contained a swirling, white-blue substance that seemed to slide between a liquid and gaseous state.

“Bloody hell,” Sebastian said. “This isn’t good.”

“What is it?” Dracaena asked, huddling up to him as he picked out one of the tiny bottles. “Unicorn blood?”

“Nah, that’s way thicker, and the colour’s more silvery,” he said. “This is moonflower essence. It’s extremely rare, worth an absolute fortune, and very, very illegal.”

Professor Fig sat patiently on the sofa in the Room of Requirement, a leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping the air slightly as he sipped steadily at a lovely cup of tea. He was settled back against the arm, trying his hardest not to ask for the fourth time what the matter was with Ominis. The young Slytherin was sitting bolt upright on the opposite end of the sofa, clutching a cup of tea that he hadn’t touched. Half an hour had passed, and he’d not said a word aside from variations of “I’m quite alright, thank you,” despite the older man’s gentle probing.

Eleazar had his suspicions, of course. The way he’d reacted when he’d thought he’d spoken out of turn to a parental figure spoke volumes of the kind of trauma he suspected he’d endured, and he knew as well as anyone that Ominis had to talk about his past in order to be able to process what he’d gone through, to begin to heal. But he couldn’t force it, for that would only make matters worse.

So he sat, and he waited. Unfortunately, it seemed Ominis was far more accustomed to long periods of silence than Sebastian was, and he sensed that if he was going to get anywhere at all, he was going to have to prove that he could be trusted. But how? Ominis was mistrustful by nature, and it didn’t take much for him to dismiss those around him as a bunch of lying fools, even if he wouldn’t say such a thing about his elders out loud.

The best way to get Ominis to trust him enough to open up would either be through gradual increments over a very long period of time, or it would have to be through shared experiences. Eleazar had no desire to wait for possibly years for Ominis to open up to him that much, walking on eggshells and praying he didn’t inadvertently abuse the young man’s trust. But he had very little in common with the lad, in truth. From what he knew from the gossip amongst the professors, Ominis was the polar opposite of his family in every way, though this realisation had only really come to pass in recent months as his dear Dracaena practically dragged him out of his shell when they were together.

Ominis, it seemed, had not had a happy childhood. The fact he went to live with the Sallows the moment he could signified that. But Eleazar had had a thoroughly enjoyable boyhood with warm and loving parents. How could he connect with Ominis like he needed when they were so different?

Another fifteen minutes passed, and Ominis gave a long, almost silent sigh.

“Forgive me sir, but I really ought to finish tending my Flutterby Bush,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Might I be excused?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Eleazar said. “You’re not being kept here against your will, you know.” He paused as Ominis set his untouched tea on the low table and got to his feet, berating himself silently for not being able to help the lad when he so desperately needed someone to care for him. “Do you want some help? I might not be the most green-fingered of men, but-”

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you,” Ominis said, his tone carefully neutral, and Eleazar avoided swearing aloud by a narrow margin. Of course the poor chap would think everyone wanted to help him because they assumed his blindness rendered him helpless, and not just because they wanted to out of the kindness of their hearts.

But then, Ominis hadn’t known much kindness in his life.

“Well, perhaps you could talk me through what you’re doing?” Fig got to his feet as well. “I’ve always held a bit of a fascination with magical plants, but never really had the time to study them.”

He was keenly aware that Ominis wanted to be alone, but he couldn’t give up, not now. He had no idea how long Dracaena and Sebastian would be before they finished fetching whatever it was they were going to get (or rather, knowing them as he did, getting into mischief), and if he missed this chance to get through to Ominis, it was unlikely he’d ever get such an opportunity again.

Ominis’ shoulders moved with another silent sigh. “Of course, sir.”

Eleazar followed him down a corridor and into a rather glorious, long room, where Dracaena had conjured a number of potting stations at one end, the walls covered with tools, diagrams and cuttings, and at the other end were her cauldrons, where she and Sebastian occasionally experimented, with significantly more success than their Gryffindor friend, Garreth.

Ominis headed straight for the Flutterby Bush, a pretty little shrub whose leaves waved and shivered independently, giving the whole plant a pleasant rippling affect. Eleazar took up a station beside Ominis, clearing his throat a little to let him know where he was, and he clasped his hands, waiting patiently.

To his utter delight, this tactic worked.

Though Ominis’ speech was monotone and halting to begin with, he soon settled into his usual pattern of casual conversation, a small smile even appearing on his lips as he spoke about the shrub before him, how to care for it, nurture it, and what results Professor Garlick expected by the end of term.

After half an hour of this, Fig risked a question.

“What is it about Herbology that you enjoy so much?” he asked, crossing his fingers.

Ominis gave an elegant shrug.

“It’s predictable,” he said. “Magical plants generally won’t hurt you, and those capable of causing harm do so only as it’s their nature, and that’s easily avoided if you know what you’re dealing with. You don’t have to deal with dangerous plants if you don’t want to.”

“It’s safe, then?” Fig said, and Ominis hesitated, his fingers brushing the tips of the shivering leaves.

“Yes,” he said, slowly. “I suppose one could call it that.”

Fig clamped his lips shut, waiting for Ominis to continue speaking. He had to wait a while, but his patience was rewarded as he sighed, lowering his hands to the worktop.

“Plants don’t lie to you,” he said, his voice so soft Fig could barely hear it. “They don’t seek you out to hurt you. They don’t force you to hurt other people. They don’t ignore you and manipulate you and disregard your feelings out of spite.”

Eleazar leaned to the side, peering at him. Ominis’ face was set in a fierce scowl, quite at odds with his gently delivered words. He looked about ready to hit something, and his hands were white-knuckled on the worktop.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use another cup of tea,” Eleazar said gently, and to his delight, Ominis nodded, turned, and led the way back to the sofa.

“What should we do with it?” Dracaena asked, staring at the little crate of tiny bottles in Sebastian’s hands. They’d rushed out of the Forbidden Forest as fast as their legs could carry them and holed up in the nearby stately ruin lying along the road to Hogsmeade. Now, they were huddled up behind a stack of crates, and Sebastian had conjured a blanket to lie on top, shielding them from all sides. The space was quite small, and they were pressed up together. Dracaena tried very hard to ignore how warm he was.

“We could do loads,” Sebastian said. “By my guess, there’s got to be at least fifty-thousand galleons worth of essence here.”

Her jaw dropped. It was an almost obscene amount of money, enough for her, Sebastian and Ominis to buy a big house and live happily on the profits well into their middle ages, probably longer if they were sensible. Of course, Fig would live with them, and…

“We probably shouldn’t,” she said. “Bassy, if this really is worth that much and is as illegal as you say, how the hell would we even sell it? How would we explain where we got the money if we managed it?”

“Well… we’d need to launder it so the Ministry doesn’t get suspicious,” Sebastian said, rubbing his chin. “But that’d mean we need a business, and none of us are likely to do that until we’re out of school.”

“So we just sit on it? What if we’re caught with it?”

“Azkaban, probably,” Sebastian said, pulling one of the bottles out again and tilting it to and fro, his eyes on the swirling, liquid mist within. “A few drops of this makes for a powerful hallucinogen, giving you visions of blissful things. Easy to get addicted to, but the more you use it, the more you need, and the more you take, the worse the visions get, until you’re in a waking nightmare, but you can’t stop. People who get addicted to this end up wasting away because they forget to eat, cowering in a corner and surrounded by horrors.”

Dracaena bit her lip. “We probably shouldn’t sell it, then,” she said. “I don’t want something like this out on the streets where vulnerable people can be hurt by it.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Hey, if people want to take it, it’s not for me to tell them no,” he said. “Their body, their choice, right? And if it makes us rich in the process…”

Dracaena thumped his arm, and he chuckled, rubbing it.

“Take it easy, Sparks,” he said, teasing her with the nickname she hated, and she stuck her tongue out at him. His eyes flicked to it immediately, and his smile slipped for a fraction of a second. He wrenched his gaze away and back to the bottle in his hands, barely larger than his little finger.

“It’s not just used as a drug, it’s a really valuable potion ingredient too,” he said.

Dracaena laughed. “That's better. So we sell it to Pippin?”

Sebastian shook his head. “He’ll want to know where we got so much… even a single bottle of this would raise eyebrows.” He pursed his lips, and Dracaena found her eyes drawn to the shape they made. “The only way to sell this would be outside of Ministry regulations. If we own up and say we found it to anyone on the right side of the law, the Ministry would confiscate it, and maybe we’d get a ‘well done’ in the Daily Prophet or something. Now, I don’t know about you, but if someone asked me whether I wanted to take a risk and the result was fifty grand, or do the ‘proper’ thing and get a thank you if I’m lucky, well, I know which one I’d pick.”

Dracaena nodded slowly. “You make a good point,” she said. “But it’ll be dangerous. We should probably take it back to the castle and hide it somewhere until we know what to do with it.”

“Don’t tell Om-” Sebastian began, but Dracaena poked him hard in the ribs and he yelped with a pained laugh.

“Have you learned nothing? If we don’t tell him, he’ll find out anyway, then be upset we excluded him,” Dracaena scolded. “I’m telling him the moment we get back and Fig’s out of earshot.”

Ominis slumped on the sofa, his head hanging. His voice had returned to its monotone state, but for the first time, Fig was glad of it. He thought he’d heard the worst kinds of neglect when Sebastian had told his story (though he suspected Sebastian hadn’t quite told him everything), but the horrific abuse the young Gaunt had suffered at the hands of his family chilled him to the bone. It was a wonder he was even alive, and the story had only reached up to when Ominis was four years old.

“Marvolo used to put me on a broom for fun,” he said, speaking to his knees. “One might think that’s a brotherly thing to do, but once my feet left the ground, I had absolutely no idea where I was. I didn’t have my wand or even the barest hint of magic at such a young age, so I had no way of telling whether I was two foot from the ground or twenty. He used to love sitting in the sun with a book, listening to me screaming for help. It was music to him. He always did it when Aunt Noctua was away, because when she caught him at it, even my father couldn’t stand in the way of the beatings she’d give.”

A tiny flicker of a smile passed his lips. “I suppose it’s funny in a way, looking back on it. She used to frighten the daylights out of Marvolo, but I wished she wouldn’t sometimes. He always hurt me worse after she twisted his ear of whipped his behind bloody. I do miss her.”

“When did she pass?” Eleazar asked, gently.

“Oh, many years ago now. I think I was six when she stopped coming back.” A flash of pain crossed his face, swept away almost instantly by the carefully neutral expression he so often wore. “Ten years… I can hardly believe it.”

Eleazar raised a hand as if to place it on the young man’s shoulder, but he thought better of it. Ominis was a bit funny about being touched, he shied away from contact from almost everyone. Indeed, he’d only ever known Ominis to accept a brief hug or pat on the back from Sebastian, though he did seem perfectly content to lean on Dracaena when they studied. Not that this surprised him, she was a warm and likeable young witch, able to get on with just about anybody.

He tilted his head as Ominis sighed slightly.

“I apologise for going on so, sir, I don’t want to talk your ear off,” he said, his voice still low and dull. “It must be a frightful bore to listen to me complain so.”

“Nonsense,” Eleazar said. “It’s good for the soul to get things off your chest once in a while.”

Ominis shook his head slightly, turning away, and Eleazar bit down on a swearword. He’d been doing so well, and now he was pulling away again! He drew a steadying breath. Patience, Eleazar, let him go at his own pace.

“I could make us another hot drink, if you like?” he offered instead. “Perhaps something other than tea? A coffee, perhaps, or a hot chocolate? I might even have a little firewhisky on hand if you’re in need of a pick-me-up?”

Ominis huffed a soft laugh. “No thank you, sir,” he said, lacing his fingers together and leaning back until he was resting properly against the back of the sofa, his hands in his lap, his head pillowed, his crystal eyes gazing unseeing at the ceiling.

“Did you know that my parents tried everything they possibly could to fix this?” he said, waving a hand at his eyes, before it fell back into his lap. “Everything, I’m told. Gold no object. There was no Healer too expensive, no shaman too far away, no treatment too experimental.”

Eleazar, who had been about to take a sip of coffee, froze, the rim of the cup touching his lip. The darkness in Ominis’ voice chilled him to the bone, and he dreaded hearing what was to come next.

“None of it worked,” Ominis said, his head lolling a little to the side, his eyes closing. “All of it hurt. They’d make me sit there for hours, trying all these different spells, making me drink potions, rubbing poultices into my eyes…” he shuddered. “I think if I wasn’t blind already, I’d have lost my sight for all that they did. Apparently one of their experiments fused my irises together, not that it made any difference to me, but it made them treat me more like an outcast. ‘At least people will know right away that you’re broken, boy, and won’t trouble themselves with you.’ That’s what my father said when it happened.”

“Ominis,” Eleazar began, but the young Slytherin seemed oblivious to his presence.

“They used to give me a piece of chocolate once they got bored of trying to fix me.” He said. “I was never in the mood for it, I was usually in too much pain to think about eating anything. But they forced me, told me I was being ungrateful. I never could stand the taste of it after that.”

Eleazar shifted guiltily, thinking of all the times he’d made the trio a hot chocolate before sending them off to bed, the warm treat a favourite of his as well. Ominis had always accepted with polite thanks, and usually left more than half his cup undrunk once the other two had scoffed theirs. The few times it had been empty, the cup had been spotless, and Eleazar suspected he’d vanished the contents so as not to offend.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Ominis, what you’ve endured is terrible. I don’t know how someone who was hurt so badly by those that were meant to love you has turned out to be one of the most well-mannered, kind people I know.”

If Ominis registered the gentle compliment, he didn’t react to it. Instead, he sighed.

“It gets worse,” he said gloomily. “Once I got my wand, and had practiced enough with it, they decided to let me join in on the family sport, something I’d always been curious about, until I found out what it was. Marvolo had always called it ‘hunting,’ and I suppose it was, in a way. The thing is, what they were hunting was muggles.”

“Ah, shit, they’re still in there,” Sebastian said, his ear pressed to the door opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. “Can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s mostly Ominis talking.” He flashed Dracaena a grin. “Told you it’d work.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said. She’d been anxious about Ominis’ declining mood for a good while now, and she got the feeling he desperately wanted to talk about it, but didn’t know how to start. She was wise enough to know she was ill-equipped for helping him considering the little she knew of his past, no matter how much she wanted to be the one he bared his soul to. “But enough about that for now, where the hell are we going to hide the moonflower essence?”

“Shh!” Sebastian flapped his hand at her, glancing nervously along the corridor. “Anyone could be creeping up on us!”

“Revelio,” Dracaena said, her wand revealing nothing but them. “No, there’s no one.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust the portraits,” Sebastian muttered. “Gossips, the lot of them.”

“I guess we could hide it in your dorm?” Dracaena suggested, eyeing the bundle of robes Sebastian was carrying, the crate of essence hidden within.

“Why mine? If anything, we should hide it in yours, everyone loves you and would believe you if you said you didn’t know what it was or where it came from,” Sebastian argued.

“Because I can get into your dorm, you can’t get into mine,” Dracaena said. “If one of us is indisposed, the other should be able to move it pronto, don’t you think?”

“I could get into your dorm if I wanted to,” Sebastian muttered, then his cheeks flushed. “We can’t just keep carrying this around. Maybe if we just hid it in a suit of armour or behind a tapestry or something?”

“Too exposed,” Dracaena said. “We can’t risk someone stumbling on this. Knowing our luck, I bet Peeves would find it.”

As if he was summoned, the colourful poltergeist zoomed around the corner, cackling madly, his arms full of star charts he’d clearly just stolen. He pulled up short in midair with a screeching noise as he saw them standing there, and his little black eyes narrowed in malicious glee.

“Oooh, it’s feeble Fig’s new adoptees!” he cackled. “Up to no good, it seems to me, thinking a professor dad will save your skins!”

“Don’t,” Dracaena said, grabbing Sebastian’s wrist as he went for his wand.

Seemingly disappointed by their lack of reaction, Peeves glowered, his beady eyes lighting on the bundle of robes in Sebastian’s arms. His grin almost split his face in half when both students tensed.

“Oooooh, what’ve you got there? Is it foody or drinky, or something much more naughty?”

He swooped towards them, dropping the star charts, his hands outstretched. Sebastian swore and dived to the floor, holding the robes to his chest. Dracaena stood over him, firing hexes at Peeves as he soared about her, trying to get to Sebastian. She swore herself as he began throwing things at her, vases, potted plants, portraits that yelled at their unexpected flight, and more. She drew the line when he pulled a fat tarantula out of his pocket and flung it at her face.

Dracaena yelped and whacked it away, and unfortunately, it decided to take refuge down the neck of Sebastian’s shirt. He flung himself into the air as though he’d been electrocuted, the bundle of robes flying away as he scrabbled for his collar, howling like a wounded wolf. Dracaena avoided his flailing limbs and hurled herself after the robes as Peeves shot forward, cackling. He caught one end of the robes and Dracaena caught the other, and the wrapped package came flying out.

“Accio!” Dracaena yelled, and it shot into her hands. “Depulso!”

Peeves was blasted backwards, vanishing through the wall with a yelp.

“Get it off get it off get it off get it off!” Sebastian yelled, kicking and slapping at his torso. Dracaena spied the poor tarantula making an eight-legged run for it into the shadows, but delayed saying anything, because at that moment, Sebastian saw fit to tear his shirt right off.

She raised a brow, admiring the freckles on his shoulders, the light dusting of hair on his chest and navel, the tiniest hint of weight around his belly. He blinked up at her, caught her staring, and they both went as red as Gryffindor.

“No spider,” Dracaena said, clearing her throat and nudging his shirt towards him with her foot, averting her gaze. “Look, we better get out of here befo-”

The door to the Room of Requirement opened, and Professor Fig poked his head out. His brows flew up as he caught sight of Sebastian sitting half dressed on the floor, both he and Dracaena blushing furiously. To her surprise, she saw that his eyes were rather red.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Fig said, trying to smile. “Did you get everything you needed?”

“Uh…” Dracaena glanced at the package in her hands, then at Sebastian. “Actually, Elly, there’s something pretty serious we need to talk to you about.”

Sebastian swore under his breath.

The package sat on Fig’s desk in his office as he stared at it the following day. Dracaena had told him everything about what they’d found, and he’d advised them both, firmly, that as tempting as it was to sell it and get a lot of gold for it, it would only end up in trouble for the lot of them. He would have to take it to the Ministry. Sebastian set up a fierce protest of course, arguing a passionate case as to why they should do things his way as Dracaena sidled over to Ominis and gave him a huge hug that he eagerly returned, burying his face in her shoulder.

Fig had already had a word with Aesop and written to Minister Spavin, and most of the little bottles would make their way to the Ministry for a small reward, about a hundred galleons or so.

He chuckled softly. It wasn’t fifty grand, but it was something. The other would be tucked away in Sharp’s private stores for his more difficult potions.

His smile slid away as he remembered all Ominis had told him before Dracaena and Sebastian had their fight with Peeves. He hadn’t been able to stop himself weeping, hastily casting a Silencing Charm on himself as he listened to all the poor lad had endured. Endless abuse, mindless torment, even torture.

But listening to him had helped him. Ominis had strode to breakfast that morning with a smile on his face, arm in arm with Dracaena, Sebastian on her other side, the three of them laughing and joking freely. Dracaena had caught his eye and mouthed a thank you to him. Fig had raised his goblet, hoping against hope that his youngest charge would feel more comfortable coming to him with any problems he had in the future. The first step, after all, is always the hardest.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #dracaena hoctina #Professor Fig #eleazar fig #Dad!Fig

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cursedonyx · 16 days

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just a heads up

if you’re an active follower of mine, i do recognize your username and/or icon. i smile when i see it in my activity. i get excited when you add funny tags to things. i get really happy when you reblog my op posts. so thank you, i appreciate you massively.

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cursedonyx · 19 days

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Of Creatures and Cauldrons

Part 3

Word Count – 2.2k

Warnings – None really, just more unrequited love

Part 1

Part 2

_.-*-.__.-*-.__.-*-.__.-*-.__.-*-.__.-*-.__.-*-.__.-*-.__.-*-.__.-*-.__.-*-._

It took several months before the shame of Poppy’s fumble had faded enough for her to walk the corridors of Hogwarts without the hood of her robes pulled up, her face searing with humiliation at the memory of that night in the Three Broomsticks. Natty was by her side more often than not, trying to cheer her up with stories of all the times she’d embarrassed herself in front of other people.

It did help, just a little, but Poppy still did a remarkable impression of a beetroot whenever she was withing twenty feet of Garreth.

If nothing else, she supposed she was grateful for his lack of interest in this instance. With some luck, he wouldn’t have registered her terrible appearance, so absorbed was he in mooning after Draccie.

Draccie herself seemed as oblivious as ever to the attention of her fellow students, still going out of her way to help people when they asked her, even if it was only helping with homework. Poppy noticed Ominis accompanying her on almost all of these small ventures, a masterful glower on his brow as soon as he realised the person asking for Draccie’s help was a boy, and their intention was to get Draccie alone. The glower became a smirk when Draccie refused to send him away, stating everyone could do their homework together, much to the would-be-amour’s chagrin.

More than once, Poppy considered asking for her help herself, swinging between wanting Garreth to notice her and wanting to never think about him again. But in the end, she never did. Draccie had enough on her plate as it was, and she was shrewd enough to figure out the object of her affections.

She couldn’t risk that. She didn’t want anyone to know.

Poppy hoped that Draccie’s obvious disinterest in anything romantic would be enough to dissuade Garreth’s affections towards her, but she knew him better than that. Day after day, in class and at meals, in the library or out on the Quidditch pitch, Garreth spent his time staring at the dark-haired beauty, occasionally glaring at Ominis when he made her laugh.

Quidditch itself was back on, Professor Black having run out of reasons to keep it cancelled. Garreth was one of Gryffindor’s beaters, and the sight of him in his uniform did things to Poppy’s insides that she couldn’t explain. She kept her eyes trained on him whenever Gryffindor played, admiring the speed and agility he had, despite his large frame. She cheered especially loud whenever he managed to whack a bludger into an opposing team member, even if they were a Hufflepuff.

Garreth, of course, used his popularity on the pitch to try and talk to Draccie, asking her what she thought of his performance, boasting about all the times he knocked someone off their broom, and bravely soldiering on whenever he got clouted himself.

It hurt to see. And even though Draccie often had a quip at the ready, a house-proud Slytherin to the very end and her personal blind guard-cobra standing at her shoulder, Garreth was undeterred. If only he would talk to Poppy about Quidditch instead, she’d engage him like he wanted, complimenting him on his flying, gasping with admiration at his successes and commiserating with him about those times he wasn’t quite so lucky. But he never talked to her about it of his own volition, and Poppy had had far too many embarrassments for one year to want to risk another.

As the last match of the year (Slytherin vs Gryffindor) came to a close in a thrilling conclusion, Poppy watched as the Gryffindor team was borne away on the shoulders of their housemates and the Ravenclaws, the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins huddled together at the other end of the pitch, complaining loudly about the margin of ten points by which they lost the cup. Garreth kept twisting back, clearly looking for Draccie in the crowd, but he was carried back to the castle before she emerged from the huddle.

Biting her lip, Poppy kept her jubilation inside. She was overjoyed that Garreth’s team had won, and by such a tiny amount, but she had to keep that hidden. Hufflepuff had come last, she should be sad, but she wasn’t, and she wasn’t popular enough to stand out from the crowd any more than she usually did. Perhaps, if she was quick and sneaky, she could get away from the moping students and join the party the Gryffindors were going to have.

She pulled the hood of her cloak up and hurried away as the gang of students surrounding the Slytherin team made their slow way back to the castle, a few of them supporting Imelda, who was babbling incoherently, wide-eyed and pale.

Poppy made her way up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and stopped as the woman eyed her with no small amount of disdain, her Hufflepuff scarf a blatant warning that she was not of Gryffindor house. Students weren’t allowed in each other’s common rooms, though she knew all too well that this rule was occasionally flouted when the older pupils began dating each other, and she herself had been into the Gryffindor common room more than once, as Natty’s guest.

Natty wasn’t here now. No one was. They were all on the other side, no doubt drinking spiked pumpkin juice and eating food stolen from the kitchens, laughing, celebrating, having a good time.

A good time she couldn’t be a part of. If only she could ring some kind of bell to get their attention, but it wasn’t to be. She was outside, all alone, her heart aching as she thought of all the things she might do if she could just speak to Garreth when Draccie wasn’t around, her confidence bolstered by a few butterbeers, complimenting him, stroking his ego, wheedling her way closer and closer until…

Poppy found herself dashing away as her eyes filled, snuffling as she wound through the castle, heading down. She didn’t want to go to her common room, no matter how warm and welcoming it was, everyone knew her there. She could go to her beasts, of course, but she’d need to bring them something other than her affection, for which her ability to give was currently in tatters. With another sniffle, she scrubbed her face with her sleeve and headed for the Greenhouses, hoping to take some cuttings of a few plants for her furry and feathered friends to nibble on. No one ever went to the Greenhouses unless they absolutely had to, or unless they were boys hoping to get a look up Professor Garlick’s skirt.

But as Poppy stumbled inside, she saw there was a person in there. Professor Garlick turned at the sound of her footsteps, her face lighting up and then falling almost in the same instant.

“Oh, Poppy,” she said, rushing forward. “Goodness me, is everything alright? Your eyes are all red!”

“I’m fine,” Poppy lied, even as her lip trembled. She wanted to turn and bolt, but her tears spilled fresh over her cheeks before she could force her feet to move, and it seemed to root her to the spot. She raised her hands to her face in a vain attempt to hide her distress, but it only seemed to amplify her sobs.

Professor Garlick was there in an instant, ignoring all protocols between student and teacher and wrapping her in a comforting hug, letting her lean against her chest and cry.

“There, there, it’s alright,” Professor Garlick soothed. “What’s got you in such a state? Was it the Quidditch match?”

Poppy shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. Yes, in a way it was, but it was so much more than that. How could she tell Professor Garlick that the man she loved most of all only had eyes for another, and barely even knew she existed? How could she explain that Garreth forgot she was there the moment Draccie walked into a room? How could she describe the searing resentment she felt towards her friend, who had done nothing other than be pretty and confident, and the guilt she felt because of that?

Professor Garlick led her over to a bench and settled her down, using her sleeve to wipe Poppy’s tears away. She picked up a flutterby bush bloom and brushed her cheek with it, making soft cooing noises as she did so. The delicate petals tickled, smelling faintly of peach, and despite herself, Poppy managed a smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just being silly.”

“Nothing that can upset you this much is silly,” Professor Garlick replied, her head tilted to one side, her eyes large and warm under her wide hat. “Maybe I can help? I won’t tell anyone else, I promise.”

Poppy sighed. She really did want to tell someone, and Professor Garlick wasn’t really that much older than her, perhaps twenty-two, or maybe twenty-three. She’d been a Hufflepuff too when she was a student here, and everyone only had nice things to say about her. Well, other than that horrible boy Hobhouse, but he was a prick anyway.

“It’s nothing,” she said again. “I guess it’s just…” she trailed off and shrugged, unwinding her scarf and dropping it on the bench beside her.

“It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Professor Garlick’s smile was knowing, and it widened as Poppy looked up at her, alarmed. Had she really been so obvious? “Don’t worry, I won’t ask who it is. Is he a bit of a dungheap?”

Poppy spluttered a laugh.

“No,” she said, and sighed again. “He’s wonderful. He’s so handsome and clever and brave and he never gets deterred from anything. He’s so popular too, and he doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Well, that’s his loss then, isn’t it?” Professor Garlick said, tucking the flutterby bloom behind Poppy’s ear, where it waved its petals, tickling gently. “You know, he might come around.”

“No, he won’t,” Poppy said, and she hung her head, her eyes prickling again. “He likes someone else, someone absolutely amazing, but she’s not interested in him. I’m worried she’s going to become interested one day, and then I won’t have a chance at all. Everything I’ve tried to make him notice me has all gone horribly wrong. I’m hopeless.”

“You’re not hopeless,” Professor Garlick said, cupping her cheek and making her meet her eyes. “Poppy, you’re not. You’re a beautiful little seedling, still growing, but I know better than most that those plants that take the longest to bloom are often the most beautiful and rare. Whoever this boy is would be a fool not to see that.”

Poppy managed a smile. Despite herself, she really did feel better to have said some of what was in her mind out loud, to another person. Though her heart was still heavy, she did feel the tiniest bit lighter. Professor Garlick returned her smile, patted her arm, and got to her feet.

“You should scamper off now,” she said. “Go find yourself a nice patch of sunlight to sit in with a good book, and you’ll forget all about this soon, I promise you. Don’t forget, you can always come and talk to me if you need to, we Hufflepuffs have to stick together, hm?”

Poppy nodded and resisted the urge to hug the young professor very tightly about the middle. She gathered herself and made for the doors, just as Professor Sharp came in. He raised his brows slightly, glancing at Professor Garlick.

“Ah, Professor Sharp, you’re here for those dittany leaves?” Professor Garlick smiled.

“Indeed,” he said, his gravelly voice low. He glanced at Poppy. “Run along now, Sweeting, there’s a good girl.”

Poppy hurried off, heading for the great double doors to take her outside, then pulled up short. She’d forgotten her scarf, and the tasty succulents for her beasts! She about faced and dashed back to the greenhouses, pausing at the top of the steps. Professor Garlick had her back to the door, sitting on one of the workbenches, sighing dreamily. She was prone to flights of fancy, and Poppy decided not to disturb her, hurrying to the bench and collecting her scarf, swiping a handful of leaves as she went.

It was only when she reached the beast pens that she began to wonder why Professor Sharp had been kneeling in front of Professor Garlick. Was he helping her tie her shoes? Poppy shrugged and petted one of the Kneazles.

Maybe Garlick was right. She was a seedling, not yet sprouted, not yet blossomed. Sure, it would come in time, and she had a whole summer to work on herself. She’d be a whole new woman once she came back to Hogwarts for her final year, and if Garreth didn’t realise that…

She sighed. Well. Maybe she should try and forget, to move on. He wasn’t going to change, she knew that. It would be tough, but it had to be done, to save herself any further misery. She tilted her head towards the sun, closing her eyes as a breeze stirred her hair, the corners of her mouth pulling out. Yes… she’d learn to love herself first. That was more important than anything.

~ for @holymoly-panda, sorry this took so long 😞

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #poppy sweeting x garreth weasley #garreth weasley x poppy sweeting #poppy sweeting #garreth weasley #professor garlick #professor sharp #Sharp says 'good girl' at one point #have to feed the sharp girlies

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