Hogsmeade bustles with it's usual midday busyness, people dipping in and out of shops. Sebastian sits lounged outside the The Three Broomsticks, nursing a pint. His day has been bad but, Merlin, did it just get so much worse.

His brown eyes are trained on you where you sit there giggling by the fountain, your face lit up from some stupid joke that Gareth, of all wizards, has just made. The Weasley's cheeks are flushed in that boyish way of his when he talks animatedly about something that's only worth half-listening to.

That isn't even the worst part. A bundle of tulips sits beside you on the bench, fresh and vibrant and perfect. It makes Sebastian’s brow furrow.

If Gareth was going to start dating his kindred spirit, the least he could do was buy your favourite flowers. Because that's what Sebastian used to do, before he broke your heart.

The break up had been quick, he was too stubborn to let it drag. He'd insisted you were better off without him, safer without him, that the dark arts would get you into trouble. What Sebastian hadn't expected, was the seering red jealousy that burns in his chest at the sight of you moving on. In his mind, it hadn't been permenant. In his mind, he'd cure Anne and you'd be waiting there for him with open arms. Not necking a ginger.

Finally, your little date comes to a close, and when Gareth mooches off, Sebastian raises to his feet. His hand catches your elbow as you walk past, that smirk of his curling his lips. "Long time no see," he hums lowly, his eyes dropping to the bunch of flowers in your grasp. "Tulips. Your least favourite."