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

[eighteen]

A/N: This chapter deals with mature subjects including trauma, murder, and mild sexual references. As we enter Act Two of the story, these themes will becomes more prevalent throughout.

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-x-

Darkness, in both the literal and figurative sense, was handy for hiding many things one might want to keep shrouded in mystery: secrets, as Sebastian knew from experience, did very well veiled in the darkness of ignorance, while physical objects, like stolen books and mysterious relics, fared much better hidden in dusty corners, stashed under dormitory beds, or even - if desperation called for it - buried in underground caverns where the likelihood of their discovery was slim to none.

Sebastian had always been grateful for the reprieve of darkness, but never more so than after he'd climbed out of that narrow alcove, overwhelmed by the scent of jasmine and fucking roses and the lingering warmth of a small, soft body pressed firmly against his. - Of all the bloody secrets he was trying to keep from coming to light, the physical evidence of desire was not one he'd anticipated.

Thankfully, the source of that desire - who was presently still hidden under his disillusionment as they ventured across the moonlit lawns, still smelling like a fucking flower garden, and still, he imagined, warm and soft and supple - hadn't appeared to have noticed his... predicament. But then again, maybe she had. Maybe the wide berth she was giving him was because he'd practically moaned into her mouth.

Sebastian clenched his jaw, thankful that he'd had the foresight to don his long robe lest his disillusionment charm fail at another inopportune moment.

He was no stranger to girls, of course, nor oblivious to the effects he had on them; there were perks to being taller and older than the other boys in his year, and despite the rumours that abounded about his murky past, he'd never suffered a lack of romantic attention. In fact, if the groups of giggling girls that followed him around were anything to go by, the rumours seemed only to increase his popularity, not diminish it. As such, he'd touched and been touched enough times that if the opportunity with a willing partner presented itself, it wasn't something he generally shied away from.

But by Merlin's nine-inch goatee, this was different. She was different. Girls, generally speaking, were one thing, but Aurélie was... Well, she was -

'She's not Anne, Sebastian!'

'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?'

Hours after he'd rushed a certain Ancient-Magic-wielding-redhead to the infirmary, Sebastian had stumbled back to the Slytherin common room, bleary-eyed with exhaustion and tense with stress, to find Ominis pacing before the fireplace, still dressed in the immaculate black outfit he'd been wearing in the Undercroft and evidently keen to pick up their argument where it had left off. Neither time nor sympathy had tempered Ominis' anger; if anything, the intervening hours seemed only to have sharpened it.

'It means you have a saviour complex!'

Ominis didn't tend to shout, but when he did, his usually composed voice held all the contempt, the fury, and the power of the Gaunt's behind it; a stark reminder of the enemy that Sebastian was facing. Now that Ominis had seen - or rather, sensed - the truth about Aurélie's gift, there was no doubt of his brothers' involvement in the plot against her - for no other family was depraved enough to commit cold-blooded murder in the pursuit of power.