Sebastian is a charming guy. Girls, regardless of their houses, look him up and down. The attention is welcome, of course—the feeling of subtle superiority, the act of knowing he could have whoever he wanted. It's been like this ever since he set foot in Hogwarts.

Despite the basic flirting and stolen kisses behind the school, it's common for people at Hogwarts, especially since they're so similar to each other, to not be captivating. They were the same people as every year. Either arrogant or fearful. There was no other option.

Despite that...

He saw it. How could he not? A precious, clumsy little thing, walking behind Professor Black, his eyes roaming the entire Hall. Arriving late. He liked the way you looked ever since he first saw you.

And then you were there, rubbing his face in the ground in the duel. A rookie, beating Sallow. It's humiliating—and unbearably enjoyable. Few people challenge it, even fewer win.

Being assigned—and chosen by you—to help with basic magic was a blessing. Eventually, it turns into stealth—entering the private library section with him, like two rats. He can't say he doesn't like it.

Fifth grade was enjoyable. A little teenage crush, hormones raging. It's common for attraction to be stronger than anything else. Sixth grade was suffocating. Flirting was served up like a buffet. The Slytherin knows, you wanted it too. Regardless, it seemed like they were both standing in the same square.

Maybe both were scared. Maybe both thought they were getting it wrong. Until seventh grade. As another year was celebrated, Sebastian made a point of staying by your side the whole time. The noise, while not entirely unpleasant, was too much. And then you asked to leave.

Oh, what an idea.

Everything was spinning toward this situation. You looked beautiful—heavenly, he would dare say. One thing led to another. Hands snaking around waists, furtive glances. Were your lips always this soft?

And then your arms were around his neck.

By Merlin, if he'd known it would be this good, he wele naould have made it sooner. It's delicious, smooth. He wouldn't trade it for all the butterbeers in Hogsmeade.

And once an addiction starts, it's hard to break. In this case, it's impossible. Always sneaking around the empty hallways with you—oh, he hates Peeves' threats.

Things evolve, one thing leads to another—it's morning. The sun is ambiguously welcome. Sebastian's body is clinging to your waist, skin to skin. He looks sleepy. Would you wake him? Messy hair, eyes twitching from natural body spasms.

Sallow hates it when you move. What the hell bothers you? The bed is soft, he's warm, and the sheets cover you both. Don't be ungrateful. As he awakens to your movements, his hands grip your sides.

“Stop moving yourself,” his voice is hoarse with sleepiness. His teeth bite into your shoulder in warning. “It’s early. Stay.”