Chapter Text
Sebastian had barely believed it when Lysander rushed in.
“Sebastian!” the raven-haired boy panted, his pale face flush from having apparently run much of the way to their dorm. “Sebastian, he’s- he’s here! With Black!”
The Sallow twin frowned, a pit of dread forming in his gut. “Who’s here, Sander?”
Lysander turned away as if nervous to say.
“Victor Rookwood.”
A dark look flashed across Sebastian’s face. “Rookwood is here, in the castle?”
Lysander nodded. This information felt almost unbelievable to Sebastian. Hogwarts was supposed to be a safe place, and the idea of Victor Rookwood just gallivanting around its storied halls was not to be borne.
“Should’ve known that he’d have his filthy claws in Black, just as he does my sister,” he spat. "Though I’m sure the headmaster is only too happy to oblige.”
Also like my sister. That part remained unsaid.
The brunette didn’t hesitate to deliver his next question, however, and was on his way towards the headmaster’s office in no time at all.
As he traversed the Trophy Room and wended down the paneled hallway, Sebastian imagined he could almost smell the man as he’d passed down this very hall only minutes before.
Sebastian realized he hadn’t asked Lysander the password as the gargoyle came into view. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done in the office anyway.
Well, eavesdrop, of course.
Instead, he cast a disillusionment charm and tucked himself into a corner to wait, all the while, the potential motivation behind this unexpected visit and possible topics of conversation between the two insufferable wizards raced through his mind. Although he knew it was unlikely, every single one of his imaginings circled back to Anne somehow.
Does Black.. know?
The thought made Sebastian so angry that he was caught almost off-guard when he heard Rookwood’s brown leather shoes begin to clack their way down the stairs. He held his breath until the man had passed him, watching the back of his head with seething hatred, but careful to follow only a few paces behind.
There was a particular scent to him, definitely. And though the Slytherin was loathe to admit it, a good one.
But Rookwood did not go far. He paused for a moment, long enough to produce a bottle from his pocket. Sebastian couldn’t see what it was, but he knew within seconds that it had been Polyjuice Potion, as the wizard in front of him transformed into Professor Black.
Because of course he did.
It had felt real. The hand on her breast. The warm weight of his body pressing her slight one down into the mattress. Anne felt the stretch – pleasant but tinged with discomfort – of him inside her, his thick manhood filling her in all the right ways.
But it wasn't by the weight or the feel of him that Anne knew who was on top of her. It wasn't even his groans of pleasure, nor his words of encouragement. It was the smell.
The subtle hint of pipe tobacco, fresh in his jacket pocket, and also the burnt remnants of his last pipe. A dash of fire whiskey, and something else that made up what could be called Eau de Rookwood.
Anne was open for him. Not only were her legs splayed to allow his narrow hips to make contact between them, but her entire body felt open, accessible, and alive, as if offered to him on a banquet table.
And on his part, the man acted ravenous, almost brutish. He devoured her with his hands, his tongue, his lips, and his cock.
Anne moaned into the wizard's mouth, legs locking behind his buttocks, urging him deeper, welcoming him inside. She imagined that she felt his release, warm, as it pulsated deep into her raw womb. They were joined in one flesh, male and female, man and woman, wizard and witch.
Complete.
In her dream, Anne's nether region shuddered without being touched, the spasms coming quick and hard as she imagined Victor Rookwood grinding into her, his pelvis bringing her release as he savored his own.
That staccato rhythm was at the front of Anne's mind as she awoke to find herself alone in her humble room at Squib Cottage.
A dream, then..
She tossed the covers off of her sweaty form, sighing as she placed her dainty feet upon the floor – one and then the other – and went about the business of readying herself for the outside world.
Anne had never experienced climax during her sleep before, and part of her couldn't have been sure that's what it was. It hadn't been at all satisfying, and yet she'd enjoyed the dream immensely.
As Anne dressed, admiring the way her lilac robes accentuated her girlish figure, she took a hard look at her curves, finally starting to show, to creep up over the bone and display her womanliness in its full glory.
And yet the knowledge that she wasn't quite cured, that all of this could slip away within a mere moment, gnawed at the back of her mind. She willed away those unwanted thoughts, the fear that crept into her every joyful moment, instead choosing to focus on what was within her control.
Victor Rookwood had cursed her. He'd openly admitted it. But Anne was sure, so very certain, that he would be the one to reverse her curse. After all, he'd done so much that he hadn't needed to in order to help save her already.
Putting her faith in him felt right. And even more so, it felt like the only option.
And so with full knowledge and determination to keep moving forward, Anne plaited her hair with ribbons. She no longer needed to cast any kind of charm to obscure her sunken face, fashionable though it may have been considered to muggles.
In a final and very deliberate act, she slipped on her mother's engagement ring.
DEAREST.
The ring felt heavy on her finger. It almost burned. And Anne knew the ring was a wish, a manifestation of a future that she hoped for. It was beautiful as it glistened on her finger, finally at the point where it was no longer at risk of slipping off.
The feeling of wearing it was bittersweet. Not like having a true engagement ring of her own would be.
And then an idea befell her.
What if Victor—what if he doesn’t know what type of ring to get me?
Perhaps he needed to see it for himself. Perhaps she should show it to him so that he could get the proper idea.
It was just a ring, after all, and it had been her mother's. Surely he would not find it too forward.
Anne skipped gleefully past the breakfast table, shouting a hasty goodbye to Mrs. Abbott, who was taking a bite of her buttered toast, and began down the dusty path to Hogsmeade.
Oswald had felt paralyzed ever since the conversation he'd had with his boss the previous day. He hadn't been sure at all how to approach Anne and was still warring with himself as to whether he should even attempt to execute the mission he'd been assigned.
Frankly, he hated it. He hated the idea of doing anything untoward with Anne, misleading her in any way.
And yet part of him was certain that any involvement he may have in Anne – or any smidgen of attachment of hers he may divert from Victor Rookwood — would be well within her best interests.
The dark wizard’s intentions for Anne, while certainly not his most nefarious by a long shot, were far from honorable, and Oswald was not certain that Mister Rookwood himself had any understanding of what it was exactly that he wished from the girl nor why he was involving himself with her at all.
But Victor Rookwood was nothing if not a kind of enigma.
His motivations were usually fairly clear, however, they were also at times muddied by values and emotions that sometimes seemed anathema to the cutthroat gang leader.
Not entirely a monster, Oswald thought, but definitely no saint either.
Oswald wished he could just tell Anne what was happening. He wished that he could make her see the light. But he was terrified of destroying her, breaking her heart into so many pieces that it could never be put back together, regardless of how much unicorn blood was utilized.
The girl had a dream. That much was obvious. The fact that her dream seemed to center around Victor Rookwood was an absolute travesty. Oswald wanted to be angry at how stupid she was being, but could muster nothing but pity for Anne.
"Seduce her," the boss had ordered, and Oswald had thought about it long and hard.
He'd been putting more distance between himself and his own lady friend recently, mostly due to the antics with Anne, and it wasn't as if they had anything formal going on, although Oswald had hoped there would be some chance of that happening.
As long as he didn't actually touch Anne, he didn't see the harm in doing what Rookwood asked.
But being quite young himself and very randy, Oswald struggled to resist imagining how Anne's innocent face would look with her lips wrapped around his cock. He shuddered at the idea, tantalized and yet sworn never to experience that reality.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to take the girl out, maybe show her how she ought to be treated by a wizard. By a man.
Yes, it was a good plan. He could show her the way without disparaging Mister Rookwood at all, without showing Anne just how little she truly meant to the older wizard in the scheme of things.
He would show her how a gentleman who was truly invested should treat a lady or a girl such as Anne.
And so that morning found him smartening himself up, having taken his weekly bath two days early, damp hair still clinging to his forehead.
He already looked very smart in his Ashwinder uniform, but he added a tailcoat to make himself look even more presentable, and – freshly shaved and with a splash of Ernie’s cologne – Oswald found himself leaving camp and making his way towards Squib Cottage before he lost his nerve.
Sebastian’s back was already starting to hurt, but he was committed, and so he followed the impostor Black through what felt like the entire school, even to some areas that he himself was surprisingly unfamiliar with.
On his part, as they made their way deeper into the bowels of the school, Rookwood himself seemed a bit unsure of where he was going. That, or he’d heard Sebastian’s footfalls long after they had exited more populated areas.
The stranger their surroundings became, the closer both men seemingly knew they were getting. To what, Sebastian still could not say.
And then it clicked. The repository. It had been under the school.
Of course!
Sebastian watched as the wizard walking in front of him began to shift back into his normal appearance, seemingly unconcerned about doing so. Just as a phenomenal doorway came into view, Rookwood stopped, turning casually, his wand trained in Sebastian’s direction.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the dark wizard grinned. Sebastian stood and removed his Disillusionment Charm.
Victor’s expression flickered only for a second, but long enough for Sebastian to notice.
Perhaps he could see the resemblance.
The Slytherin folded his arms across his chest. He was tempted to test the school’s wards against dark curses, but was also certain that by eliminating Rookwood he would also be eliminating Anne’s best chance of ever truly shaking his wretched curse.
With something near a pout, he muttered a resigned “Rookwood.”
Victor dropped into a bow and doffed his hat, his grin wide as ever.
“Mister Sallow.”
It would have seemed polite to an outsider, but Sebastian knew it was mockery.
“Well? What is the likes of you doing snooping around a school?” Sebastian spat, thinking on his feet for an appropriate insult. “Looking for your next girlfriend?”
Rookwood’s face went blank for a moment as if in shock before throwing his head back in a hearty laugh. Part of him wanted to argue about the validity of the accusation, but he chose to respond with a more dignified “touché” instead.
Sebastian wasn’t laughing. “What are you doing here and, more importantly, what are you doing with my sister?”
The last two words were shouted rather than asked, with extra emphasis on “my”.
Rookwood ran with it. “My, my,” he began, taking a confident step forward. “Protective brother, are we? Anne is a big girl. She can look out for herself.”
The tone was patronizing and beyond aggravating, but Sebastian wasn’t sure how to argue back. Obviously, Anne was her own person and could make her own decisions, but that didn’t make what Rookwood was doing right. Sebastian felt so tongue-tied about how to convey that information that he didn’t respond at all, inadvertently allowing the dark wizard to continue.
“As far as what I’m doing here, well, I’m simply reacquainting myself with my alma mater, of course. Not that it’s any of your concern.”
“Shouldn’t mind if I join you, then,” Sebastian responded before thinking. True to form, it was reckless, but he didn’t believe Rookwood would try anything. Even though he may be cozy with Professor Black, it wouldn’t look good for a student to go missing (or end up dead) immediately following his visit to Hogwarts.
Rookwood paused for a moment, probably having the very same thought. He looked a bit irritated before responding with a smile.
“Certainly.”
