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

[seventeen]

Misfortune, in Aurélie's experience, had a way of finding her on the tail-end of happiness.

At the age of seven, news of her family's imminent move to France had come on the same day the tooth fairy had left gold under her pillow; at fourteen, she'd been accepted into advanced classes at Beauxbatons only to lose her pet owl that same night; and on the day her magic had awoken, the long-awaited sunflowers in her father's garden had bloomed in time to witness strands of arcane energy bursting forth from her fingertips. Like a stain on her favourite dress, or a detention on her perfectly clean record, so her brightest memories were tainted with a dark spot she couldn't get out.

The latest bout of misery, however, had found her in a more appropriate setting: wrists deep in raw meat, surrounded by snorting, hungry death horses with a Hufflepuff companion whose sweet disposition belied her apparent penchant for chaos; after witnessing Sebastian's performance at Crossed Wands, Poppy fancied herself something of a match maker — much to Aurélie's mortification.

'But he fancies you! You can't honestly tell me you don't see it!' Unafraid of darkness, death omens, or belligerent Slytherin boys, Poppy Sweeting's voice trilled through the shadowy stables and brightened the dark corners like she were light incarnate.

Not for the first time that evening, Aurélie sighed, feigning a disinterest that was becoming increasingly difficult to uphold.

'Poppy,' she said evenly as Sugar the Thestral accepted her meat offering with a horsey snort of delight, 'I think Sebastian fancies all the girls.'

'Noo...' replied Poppy, dragging the word out in a sing-song voice, 'all the girls fancy Sebastian, but Sebastian fancies you.' When Aurélie gave no reaction to this bold declaration, Poppy threw her hands up in frustration. 'Oh, come on!' she implored, startling the nearest Thestral into a series of indignant snorts. 'The way he looks at you? And the way he got all close to you in Crossed Wands? He certainly didn't teach me Confringo that way!' she finished, fanning her cheeks with her hands.

Aurélie turned away, wrestling with the smile that fought to break free across her face. Try as she might to suppress it, the memory of Sebastian's touch glowed as warm as his bluebells in her pocket.

'Well, it doesn't matter even if he does like me,' she continued, picking through the meat bucket for an extra juicy morsel for Sugar, 'which he doesn't. You know I'm going back to France after graduation.'

'But does he know that?'

The question made her stomach twist into knots. 'Of course he does,' she mumbled, avoiding her friends' knowing eye. 'Everyone does.'

'But have you actually told him?'

Suddenly, there was a screech and a rustling of feathered wings as a post owl barrelled into the stable, startling the Thestrals into nervous jitters as it soared toward them. Thankful for the interruption, Aurélie smiled up at the feathered distraction only to yelp a moment later when it flung a letter squarely at her face.

Misfortune had found her again, but this time, as conveyed by her uncle in a concisely worded letter devoid of comfort or sympathy, it had chosen to befoul the lives of the Guillot family.

Long-time friends of her mothers and neighbours to the Collins' since Aurélie was eight, it was Antoine, the father, whose quick intervention had saved her the night of the attack. A retired Auror, as brave as anyone she'd ever known, he'd fought off her attackers and become a key witness to the cloaked figures who'd murdered his dear friends.

And now he was suffering for it.

His family were suffering for it.

If only he'd arrived minutes later.