How to Make a Villain - [Sebastian Sallow x F!OC]

[eleven]

Anne? Anne!

Though three years separated Sebastian from the worst night of his life, his sister's cries of pain pierced through the veil of time as clearly as if he were hearing them anew. Even now, as he stalked back to Hogwarts with a very irate redhead by his side, it was the echo of painful memories that he heard the loudest.

Anne, look at me! What happened? What did he do to you?

By the time they reached the castle, Sebastian knew he was beyond reason; that no amount of breathwork nor counting backwards from ten thousand was going to block out the resounding echoes of fury in his head.

I should have been there! Anne, I'm so sorry, I should have been there!

Sebastian briefly squeezed his eyes closed, fists clenched against the swell of pain that engulfed him as they stomped across the sloping lawn toward the castle.

Somewhere between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, the sporadic sun had given up its futile battle for dominance over the encroaching cloud cover. Now, in place of bright golden light, there was only flat grey dullness; instead of warmth, only a permeating chill that settled in his bones.

And wasn't that just fucking typical.

When it came to warmth, Sebastian only ever got the fleeting sort.

Being a Sunday, the castle was a veritable hive of chaos of which he himself had once been an active member of, laughing with his friends, stuffing himself full of sweets, and causing mischief. He'd been normal back then - happy. Now though, it was a very unfortunate soul indeed who dared interrupt Sebastian by laughing while he was in the throes of misery. Those with the audacity (or the sheer stupidity) to so much as look in his direction were met with the blunt force of his foul mood, his expression alone fierce enough to send them cowering in his wake. He didn't need a wand to inflict fear into the hearts of his fellow students, and Merlin help him if he caught so much as a glimpse of Garreth Weasley's ugly fucking mug at a time like this.

At the junction between the upper and lower floors of the school, Aurélie turned for the staircase that separated snake from bird. But Sebastian had other ideas. He reached out, almost instinctively, and ensnared her slender wrist in a firm grasp.

'No,' he grunted, tugging her away from the stairs, 'come with me.'

Her answering barrage of angry French would've amused him had he not been on the brink of a meltdown.

'If you going to insult me,' he said through his teeth, 'at least do it in English.'

With a groan of indignation, Aurélie wrenched her arm from his grasp and glowered up at him, hands on her hips, her vivid red hair serving to accentuate her anger. Where was that strength when she'd been literally accosted by a psychopath? When her life was in danger? How did she have the gall to shout at him now but couldn't lift a fucking finger to save herself an hour ago?

Anger flared between them, charging the air with heat.

'I am not a rag doll!' she hissed in English, her French accent more pronounced than ever. 'If you want something from me, at least say please!'

Sebastian groaned, dislodging a chunk of dried mud from his hair as he ran his hands through the tangled mess. How he managed to end up with mud in his hair, he didn't have the foggiest, but if Aurélie's dishevelled appearance was a reflection of his own then they must've made quite a spectacle.

'Fine!' he seethed. 'Come with me, please. I need to show you something important.'

With very little grace, Aurélie allowed him to guide her through the crowd of students, whose carefree jubilance felt like a personal insult. Surely, they were being happy just to spite him, grating on his already frayed nerves for a laugh.