Chapter Text
Sebastian Sallow's eyesight blurred in the Wizemgamot courtroom, a fog of muted colours and indistinct shapes. Every sound around him, the mixture of muffled voices and pages turning, echoed as if filtered through the depths of the Black Lake. He strained to fix his gaze on Deputy Headmistress Weasley's red hair, a bright marker in the fog of his disoriented mind, but even that kept slipping away from him.
Fragments of distant, distorted words floated towards him.
"Abuse...acted in self-defence," came the impassioned rebuttal of Weasley's voice, her tone steeped with conviction. "A child, faced with unimaginable events..."
Images swirled in his mind—most jarring was the flicker of his uncle's face contorted in furious disdain for him over the years, a vivid and searing montage that soon melted into the memory of his lifeless eyes. His stomach churned in protest; he was overwhelmed by an urge to vomit, to scream, to beg, yet his limbs remained locked in place, detached from his racing thoughts.
"...extenuating circumstances..." Headmistress Weasley's voice faded in and out. "...trauma and desperation... we failed him..."
Her words ignited a blaze of shame in his chest. He had been weak, seduced by the whispers of answers—of a cure, of a miracle that might save Anne, no matter the means. Now, amidst a sea of stern, stony faces and the soft rustle of the ceremonial robes and endless parchment being moved around the room, he felt small and afraid. His heart ached for the warmth of his mother and father's embrace, for the reassuring steadiness of his sister's presence, yet those comforts were now but distant memories buried in grief and guilt.
Sebastian's vision swam with stinging tears, and as if conjured by his desperate need for connection, he glanced towards the endless rows of seating, finding Bee and Ominis. Despite the strict rules of his private arrest and trial—a procedure reserved for underage transgressions—he had been allowed the solace of those closest to him since their testimonies concerning that fateful day were indispensable. They didn't turn him in— it was just inevitable that his sudden death would be investigated. And it was— continuing this mess into that summer.
He'd seen Bee in several different states before this. The intense focus that set her olive eyes ablaze with laser-like concentration, the creased furrow of her brow, the subtle habit of biting her lip when deep in thought; the way anger contorted her face as her jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, nose flared; and his favourite—the way she would laugh with her entire body, throwing her head back, her eyes crinkling at the corners and her cheeks rising in a joyful burst that nearly shut her eyes closed by sheer force. Now, Bee's shoulders were tense, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and her brow was tightly drawn with a fierce determination to be strong for him. When their gazes met, her face softened a little, as a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as if she was promising that everything would be okay.
Beside her, Ominis stood tall, his normally stoic demeanour cracking under concern. His light eyes were unblinking; he was breathing heavily, as his hands tightened at his sides— a physical struggle to restrain the instinct to rush to Sebastian's side despite the futility he felt. There was an unspoken, protective ferocity in his stance, a vow etched in every line of his form to stand by his friend, even after all that had transpired over the past year.
For a brief moment, their presence soothed the weight on his chest. But it didn't last. He lowered his eyes, unable to meet their worried gazes any longer. The cold stone floor swam beneath his feet, the intricate patterns in the granite suddenly became interesting.
Through the haze, he became vaguely aware of the cloaked people in plum-coloured robes, raising their hands in a synchronised way. Slowly, the noise began to coalesce into something resembling meaning. "...majority vote... extenuating circumstances... acquitted."
The word 'acquitted' fell like a lightning bolt, sparking through the fog in Sebastian's mind— primal, instinctive gratitude at being spared. For a moment, everything snapped into sharp focus. He saw the relief wash over Weasley's face and heard the collective exhale from the spectators. Bee's face gleamed with relieved tears, while Ominis sagged with released tension.
But as quickly as it came, the clarity vanished and was quickly overshadowed. The guilt gnawed at him like a ravenous beast, its teeth sinking deeper with each passing second.
10 years later
The early morning sun struggled to pierce through the perpetual London fog, casting a hazy glow over the Victorian home nestled in Borough. Sebastian stumbled through the front door, his hair a dishevelled mess and his clothes wrinkled from the night before. The faint scent of unfamiliar perfume clung to him as he made his way to the kitchen, desperately craving caffeine.
With tired eyes, he waved his wand at the coffee maker. The machine gurgled to life, filling the air with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Sebastian leaned against the counter, rubbing his temples before heading upstairs toward the bathroom for a shower. He heard the telltale creak of Bee's bedroom door opening, and he knew he had to be quick to get in the shower before her—an ongoing battle between them. Her voice, still thick with sleep, called out, "Seb? I need the shower—" and just as her hand reached for the handle, her words were cut short by the sound of a pop, the bathroom door slamming shut out of her reach, and the lock clicking into place. Sebastian's triumphant laugh echoed from behind the door, followed by the rush of running water.
"Sebastian Sallow, you absolute PRAT — I was here first! You can't just DISAPPARATE! You lazy fuck!" Bee's outraged cry echoed through the flat. She pounded on the bathroom door, her hoarse voice growing louder with each word. "I swear — if you use up all the hot water again—"
"I never said you can't join in, darling," he called out teasing her, voice muffled from inside the shower, prompting her to let out an exasperated shriek and pound the door once more.
From his bedroom, Ominis emerged, his usual neat appearance marred by an impressive case of bedhead and a wrinkled pyjama set covered in tiny, embroidered unicorns and kneazles (a joke gift from Bee that he secretly adored). He shuffled towards the commotion, hands covering his ears.
"For Merlin's sake, it's too early for this," he grumbled, "Some of us need our ears, you know."
Bee's face softened at the sight of Ominis, his sleepy appearance and adorable pyjamas melting her irritation. She sighed and reached out to gently pat his arm.
"Sorry, Ominis," she said, her voice lowering to a more considerate volume. "That git, that we somehow love, just knows how to push my buttons."
Ominis nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Believe me, I understand. Come on, let's go downstairs."
They made their way down the creaky stairs, the worn wood groaning beneath their feet. The living room and kitchen were bathed in the soft, hazy light of the foggy morning. Bee waved her wand lazily, and two steaming mugs of coffee that Sebastian made floated towards them from the kitchen. Ominis caught his mug mid-air, while Bee curled up on the L-shaped couch, and breathed in the fresh coffee, taking a quiet moment to enjoy it. She summoned the new Daily Prophet from the letterbox. The newspaper unfurled itself, hovering in front of her as she sipped her coffee. Her eyes skimmed the headlines, occasionally pausing to read an article more closely.
"Anything interesting?" Ominis asked, his voice muffled as he rummaged through the kitchen cupboards.
"Same old, same old," Bee replied, turning a page. "Ministry squabbles, Quidditch scores... Oh, and apparently there's a new exhibition on magical soil opening at the British Museum of Magic in collaboration with Hogwarts next week."
Ominis had his hands full with ingredients. He set them down on the counter and began assembling breakfast. "That sounds interesting. Garlick must be thrilled. Maybe we could check it out?"
"Yeah, that could be fun," Bee nodded, her eyes lighting up with interest. She set the newspaper aside and joined Ominis in the kitchen, her feet dragging on the cool tiled floor but were barely audible over the sizzle of the frying pan.
As Ominis carefully placed the layered thick slices of ham and cheese between butter-slathered bread onto the pan, for him and Sebastian, Bee reached for a bowl from the cupboard. She moved on autopilot, putting together her breakfast of creamy yoghurt, a medley of colourful berries, and a generous heaping of crunchy granola. All they could hear was the gentle clink of Bee's spoon against her bowl, the rhythmic scrape of Ominis's spatula on the sizzling pan, and the gurgle of the coffee maker as they both refilled their mugs.
"You know, Ominis," she said, her tone deceptively casual, "you could always slip a bit of Bulbadox powder into Seb's sandwich. Teach him a lesson about hogging the shower."
Ominis chuckled, shaking his head as he flipped the golden-brown sandwiches onto plates. "Tempting."
Sebastian, with a towel tied low around his waist, as drops of water trickled down his freckle-dusted shoulders and chest, strolled nonchalantly into the kitchen. He was fit but soft, with muscles that were present but not chiselled. His wet, dark brown locks were a wild tangle—as if he had towel-dried it—curling slightly at the nape of his neck despite its recent wash. His face was flushed pink from the warm water, highlighting a spray of freckles that scattered across his nose and cheeks, and around his full lips.
A playful grin spread across his face. "Now, now, Bee," he leaned over her shoulder to pluck a raspberry from her bowl with his fingers. "You can do better than Bulbapox powder. We're not children anymore." Bee rolled her eyes at him but couldn't resist a small smile as she swatted away his hand before he could steal another berry.
"Yes, because you two are adults," Ominis mumbled, voice dripping with sarcasm. With a dramatic huff, she gathered her breakfast and coffee. "I'm going to go shower. I'll be quick, I promise, Ominis." And Bee rushed past him towards the stairs, Seb's eyes followed her. Then he reached for the plate Ominis had prepared for him, his eyes widening appreciatively at the perfectly toasted sandwich. The aroma of melted cheese and ham wafted up, making his stomach growl.
"Thanks, mate," he said, genuine gratitude in his voice. "You're a lifesaver."
Ominis nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Someone has to keep you fed."
Sebastian chuckled, moving to the coffee pot. He tilted it, watching the last drops of rich, dark liquid fall into his mug. The warmth seeped through the mug, a comforting sensation against his palms. The mug was a charming creation Bee crafted when she dabbled in pottery as a hobby a couple of years ago. Its surface was uneven, each curve and bump a testament to its handmade appearance. He could feel the tiny imperfections along the glazed ceramic as his fingertips ran over them. And he adored it so much that he's been using it every morning since the day she gifted it to him.
They settled at the kitchen table, a weathered oak that had seen countless meals and late-night conversations. Ominis took a couple of bites of his sandwich and observed Sebastian's slow breaths and subdued yawns as he ate his and drank his coffee.
"Late night?" he asked, unbothered but inquisitive in that knowing-Ominis sort of way.
"Something like that."
Ominis paused, letting the silence stretch as he chewed. His pale brow creased faintly as he connected the dots. He set down his sandwich, not quite sighing. "Merlin's balls, Sebastian. On a Thursday?"
They laughed, and it filled the kitchen, bouncing off the forest green, tiled walls, their hanging devil's ivy by the sash window, and combining with the ever-present hum of London beyond the glass.
Ominis shook his head but didn't push, only reached for his coffee again. "Who was it? Where did you go this time?"
Sebastian chuckled, running a hand through his still-damp hair. "Just someone I met at a bar with Garreth. A Muggle."
As if on cue, Bee strode into the kitchen with her breakfast in hand. "Muggle?" she echoed.
Her deep-green eyes blinked with interest as she leaned against the kitchen counter. The light cast a cool glow over her pale, olive skin, softening the high angles of her cheekbones against the roundness of her face. Her dark auburn, French bob was already dry and wavy, a little unruly in the best way. Her soft beige blouse rested loosely over her chest, was tucked into comfortable, chestnut high-waisted trousers, draping over the curve of her hips that had a leather wand holster.
Sebastian bit the inside of his lip and averted his eyes back to Ominis.
Ominis's lips turned into a teasing smile. "Sebastian was just saying he went home with a Muggle last night. Fell in love, did you?"
At Ominis's words, the spoon hovered forgotten near her lips, a blob of yoghurt threatening to fall. For a split second, something flickered in her eyes before it was quickly masked by amusement. A laugh bubbled in her throat. "Sebastian?" she said, licking the spoon clean with dramatic flair. "No offence, but he'd probably combust."
Sebastian rolled his eyes dramatically. "You two are insufferable," and he caught the time on his clock. "Go shower. I don't want to leave during the morning rush."
Ominis nodded with a sigh. Another day, another grind. He pushed back from the table. As he passed Bee, he paused. "New perfume?"
Bee grinned, "Found it in that little boutique off Diagon Alley we talked about. Do you like it?"
"It's nice. Very you," Ominis nodded appreciatively before disappearing upstairs.
Left alone, Sebastian and Bee shared a moment of comfortable silence. The soft tick of the clock on the wall and the distant rumble of London traffic filled the air. Sebastian ate his sandwich, and Bee finished her yoghurt, the spoon scraping against the bowl as she gathered the last bits.
"So," she said finally, her tone casual as she rinsed her bowl in the sink. "A Muggle, huh? Where did you meet?"
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "I was with Garreth last night, and we went to that speakeasy in Shoreditch – you know, the one with the entrance hidden behind a fridge?"
Bee didn't answer, just tilted her head and nodded, enough to let him know she was listening, so he continued. "Garreth wanted to see what the hype was all about, you know what he's like with Muggle stuff. We met there and just started chatting, and Garreth was talking with her friend."
Bee nodded, her eyes alight with careful interest as she shifted to face him, leaning her hip casually against the counter. "What's she like?"
Sebastian continued, "Well, honestly, I'm not sure—I mean, she was nice and relaxed, but I did have some trouble keeping up. She was... sweet. Relaxed. Really into horoscopes. Asked me what I was and got properly offended when I didn't know."
Bee chuckled. "You're a Scorpio."
He blinked. "How the hell do you know that?"
"Seriously? How many birthdays have I spent with you?"
He huffed a laugh, leaned back in his chair. The muscles of his stomach shifted with the motion, and the towel dipped just slightly lower. Her eyes flicked over him, but returned to his face.
"Anyway," he said, voice softer now, "went to hers. Just got back."
Then her shoulders eased just barely, and she exhaled through her nose. "Right," her voice airy "Well, I'm glad you had fun." Bee's gaze drifted to the clock on the wall, and her eyes widened slightly at the time.
"Merlin," she muttered, already stepping away from the counter. "Go get dressed."
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, a slow grin forming. "Why, Beatrice Everly," drawing the words out like honey, "are you scandalised by my modesty?"
A pink flush crept up Bee's cheeks as she met his challenge head-on. "Please," she scoffed, though her voice betrayed a hint of breathlessness. "We have to go in like ten minutes. Go before I accio that towel and traumatise us both."
Sebastian raised his eyebrows. "Okay, okay—I'm going," he said, rising slowly, the towel precariously low on his hips, revealing a trail of dark hair down his freckled stomach leading toward his groin. She tried to keep her eyes on his face.
And with a wink that sent Bee's heart racing despite her best efforts, Sebastian walked out of the kitchen, leaving her to catch her breath and wonder, not for the first time, about the complicated dance they'd been doing for years.
—
As they stepped out of their flat, the London morning enveloped them. There was a fine mist in the air as they wove through the narrow, cobblestone streets, their footsteps echoing off the old brick buildings, and walked through busy, car-inhabited streets surrounded by taller modern builds. London Bridge Station loomed ahead, and they slipped through the bustling crowds, a mix of professionals and tourists. The trio navigated the maze of platforms with practised ease. The Jubilee line train arrived with a rush of displaced, stuffy air. They boarded, squeezing into the hot tube, so crowded that they were packed in like sardines. Bee found herself wedged against Seb, her back pressed against his front, while Ominis had been squashed against the wall, grumpily trying to make room for himself. As the train lurched forward, all they could hear was the loud, sharp clacking of wheels on tracks. At Westminster, they disembarked, joining the sea of commuters ascending to street level. The Houses of Parliament stood against the misty sky. Big Ben loomed above them as they made their way towards Whitehall.
They approached an unremarkable public toilet. Its worn sign was barely legible, but the trio knew better. They entered one by one, each producing a special token emblazoned with the Ministry seal, vanishing in a whirl of water despite staying dry.
The Atrium bustled with activity. People in a variety of robes hurried across the polished floor, their footsteps creating a constant background noise. Paper aeroplane memos zoomed overhead, darting between departments with urgent messages. As they reached the grand fountain at the centre of the Atrium, Ominis adjusted his robes, smoothing out invisible wrinkles.
"Well, this is where we part ways," he said, "Be careful, you two."
Bee gave him a quick hug. "We always are," she teased.
Sebastian clapped Ominis on the shoulder. "At least most of the time."
With a final wave, he headed towards the lifts that would take him to the Wizengamot chambers.
Sebastian and Bee made their way to the Auror Office, their badges glinting in the light as they passed through the security checkpoints. The office was a hive of activity, with maps and magical photographs covering the walls, tracking the movements of dark wizards and dangerous magical creatures.
Their day was filled with the usual mix of excitement and tedium that came with being an Auror. They pored over reports, cross-referencing information about a suspected basilisk smuggling ring being led by Thomas Mulciber, who had been on the run. As the day wound down, they found themselves in the Leaky Cauldron, surrounded by a group of colleagues. The pub hummed with the chatter of magical folk unwinding after a long week.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, nursing a butterbeer. "You were amazing today, you know?" he said to Bee, who was sitting beside him, sipping on a glass of wine.
"Thanks, I just—," she never took compliments on her work very well, but hearing them from Sebastian always sent a thrill through her. "I think we're close to cracking this basilisk case. Just a few more pieces to fit together. I think we could—"
Their conversation was interrupted by Dillon Hawkworth, who just sat in front of them across the table, one of the newest recruits to the Auror Office. Seventeen, fresh-faced and eager, he was still in awe of working alongside some of the wizarding world's finest. "Hey, Mr Sallow, I heard something in passing today while training about your uncle being an Auror?"
For Sebastian, the bustling atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron seemed to fade away as he felt a cold weight drop in his stomach. His jaw clenched, and he could feel Bee tense beside him, her hand instinctively moving closer to his under the table.
"Yeah, and?" Sebastian replied, his voice carefully neutral, though his knuckles had turned white around his glass.
Oblivious to the sudden shift in mood, Dillon pressed on, his enthusiasm palpable. "Wicked! What was that like? Did he inspire you? Must have been nice. At home my family are too worried, none of them ever worked in the field like this before so—"
Sebastian's thoughts whirled like a storm, each gust bringing back memories he had buried deep. Images of his uncle yelling at him, striking him, kicking him out to sleep in the cold shed, striking her with fire in the catacombs, his vacant look— he painfully dug his nails into the palm of his hand in an attempt to put a stop to the memories flooding his mind. But outwardly, Sebastian remained still, almost unnaturally so. His face was a mask of calm, betraying nothing of what he felt within. He took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, using the sensation to ground himself in the present.
"We... didn't really talk about that sort of thing," Sebastian interrupted, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. He lifted his butterbeer to his lips and drained the last of it in one long gulp. The sweet, familiar taste did little to soothe him, but the action gave him a moment to distract himself.
Bee smoothly interjected. "Hey, Dillon, have you heard about the new Patronus training they're delivering next month for junior Aurors? Will you sign up?"
As Dillon's attention was diverted, Sebastian set his empty glass down with a soft thud. The noise of the pub slowly filtered back in, the warmth of the room returning. He noticed that Bee's hand was holding his, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze under the table. He allowed himself to exhale slowly, feeling some of the tension leave his body. But not enough.
Sebastian pushed back his chair, the legs scraping against the worn wooden floor. "Be right back," he muttered, standing up abruptly. The room swayed slightly as he made his way to the bar, weaving between tables and ducking under floating trays laden with steaming plates and frothing mugs. Sebastian leaned against the bar, his fingers tracing the outline of a dragon carved into the wood, as he waited for the bartender's attention.
"Another butterbeer, please," he said, his voice low. The bartender, an older witch with kind eyes, nodded and reached for a pint glass before pouring. Sebastian was so focused on the hypnotic flow of the butterbeer that he didn't notice Bee approach until she was beside him.
"Seb," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the noise. "Are you okay?" Her hand softly rested on his forearm, which was leaning on the bar.
He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before flicking away. "I'm fine," he said curtly, paying and reaching for his fresh drink.
Bee's brow furrowed, concern etched on her face. "You don't seem fine. Look, I know talking about Solomon is—"
"I said I'm fine," Sebastian snapped, his voice sharp enough to make Bee flinch and remove her hand from his arm. He immediately regretted his tone, but the words kept spilling out, fuelled by the alcohol and the churning emotions in his gut. "I don't need you hovering over me like I'm some fragile thing about to break. Just give me some space."
Hurt flashed across Bee's face, quickly replaced by a mask of cool indifference. She was used to Sebastian's mood swings and had weathered them for a decade, but that didn't mean they didn't sting. "Fine," she said, her voice clipped. "Have your space."
She turned on her heel, her jacket swirling around her as she made her way back to the table. Sebastian watched her go, guilt and frustration warring inside him. He lifted the butterbeer to his lips, letting the burn of the alcohol distract him from the ache in his chest.
—
As the night wore on, the group decided to move to a more lively venue, and others joined. They made their way to The Cosmic Veil, a trendy magical nightclub hidden behind a shimmering, gossamer curtain in a narrow alleyway hidden from muggles. As they passed through the veil, the world around them transformed.
The interior of the club was a marvel of magical imagination. The ceiling seemed to stretch endlessly upward, with swirling galaxies and shooting stars. Floating orbs of light in various hues drifted through the air, changing colour in time with the pulsing beat of the music. The dance floor was made of enchanted glass, each step causing ripples of iridescent light to spread outward like magical pond ripples. The music thrummed through his body, bewitched instruments playing modern wizarding tunes. There was a sea of moving bodies, swaying and spinning to the alluring rhythm. Cool mist swirled through the air, chilling their hot bodies as they danced.
Sebastian found himself in the thick of it, his body moving almost of its own accord. The firewhisky had loosened his limbs and quieted the nagging voice in his head. Here, in this moment, there was only the music, the lights, and the press of bodies around him. He'd found himself drawn to a witch he didn't know. She had long, platinum blonde hair and blue eyes that sparkled like the enchanted ceiling above. Without a word, they began to dance together, their bodies moving in sync. The witch moved closer, her body pressing against Sebastian's. Her hands traced patterns on his chest, then wrapped around his shoulders. Sebastian's hands found her hips, pulling her closer, and her leg slid between Sebastian's, as she grinded against his in a way that made his trousers feel tighter. Her breath was hot on his neck, her lips brushing against his skin as they moved together. Almost without realising it, they started kissing, growing more passionate as her nails scraped lightly down his back. They broke apart for air, both breathing heavily. He felt both numb and overstimulated; maybe he needed some air or another drink. He leaned in close to the witch's ear, his breath hot against her skin. "I'll be right back. Do you want something to drink?"
She smiled at him with her swollen lips, "Firewhisky."
Sebastian nodded, leaving her in the crowd. As he made his way to the bar, the ceiling above had shifted, now resembling the aurora borealis. At the bar, Sebastian found himself beside Garreth and Ominis, who were chatting and nodded to him as he arrived. Garreth's hair was even more dishevelled than usual, his cheeks flushed from dancing. Ominis, ever the composed one, looked only slightly rumpled.
As Sebastian waited for the bartender, the euphoria of the dance floor began to ebb, and reality seeped back in. The memory of his earlier exchange with Bee hit him like a splash of cold water. He winced, remembering the sharp tone he'd used, the hurt that had flashed across her face before she'd masked it. Guilt ate at him, twisting his stomach into knots. He hadn't really seen her since then. He scanned the crowded club, searching for a glimpse of Bee's auburn hair or the flash of her smile. The pulsing lights and swirling mist made it difficult to distinguish faces in the crowd from where he was, and Sebastian found himself craning his neck, standing on tiptoes to peer over the sea of bodies.
"Do you want anything, mate?" the bartender's gruff voice cut through his thoughts.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Firewhisky. Two, please," Sebastian replied distractedly, still searching the crowd. As he waited, Sebastian turned to his friends. "Have you guys seen Bee?"
Garreth shifted on his feet and then replied, "Oh, yeah. She left a while ago with some bloke."
Sebastian felt a sudden, inexplicable tightness in his chest. "Left? With who?"
Ominis shrugged. "Didn't recognise him. They were dancing for a while, though. The girls said he was 'well fit'," he added, lifting his fingers in air quotes.
Sebastian murmured, "Oh, well—good for her." His stomach twisted again, sharp and unwelcome, leaving him confused. He'd seen her hook up with others before—Merlin, he'd heard her through the walls. Not that he cared. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like he enjoyed it. Well... maybe he did, but not in the way that— Fuck. His jaw tightened as he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his nails into his palm hard enough to sting, trying to end the thought before it unravelled into something he couldn't shove back down.
He should slow down on the drinks. Probably. A glass clinked against the bar, then another. The bartender slid two tumblers of firewhisky toward him, and Sebastian blinked, barely registering them before paying and muttering a distracted thanks. As he turned back toward the dance floor, the heat in his chest flared into something restless, something stubborn. His gaze drifted over the dancing, intertwined bodies, scanning for a familiar flicker of auburn but knowing she wasn't there.
Sebastian brushed aside his strange sense of disappointment and returned to the blonde witch. She welcomed him back with a seductive smile and accepted the drink he handed her. As their glasses met with a clink, Sebastian attempted to stay present, concentrating on the thumping music, the heat of the firewhisky warming his throat, and the witch—whose name he still didn't know—tracing her fingers down his chest.
