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The Gryffindor common room was a sea of scarlet and gold, the air thick with the scent of pine needles, cinnamon, and the faint smell of something Garreth Weasley had definitely improved with his wand and creative ministrations. The massive fireplace roared, casting a flickering, honeyed glow over the students who had crammed into every available armchair and floor cushion to celebrate the end of the term.
"I’m telling you, Natty, if the steam turns red, it means the courage is kicking in!" Garreth shouted over the din of a wizarding wireless set playing a peppy tune.
He was standing behind a table crowded with mismatched silver goblets, stirring a large cauldron that was emitting a series of rhythmic, musical pops.
Natsai Onai laughed, her eyes bright as she adjusted her position on the rug next to Vivienne. "And if the steam turns green, Garreth? Does that mean we should call Madam Blainey immediately?"
"Green means it’s just become a very effective floor cleaner," Garreth joked, ladling a shimmering, copper-colored liquid into a cup and handing it to Vivienne with a flourish. "Try it, Viv! I’ve dubbed it 'The Festive Fire-Breather.' It’s guaranteed to keep you warm all the way to London on the Hogwarts Express."
Vivienne took a tentative sip. It tasted like liquid sunshine and toasted marshmallows, with a spicy kick that made her toes tingle. "It’s actually... brilliant, Garreth. No smoke out of the ears this time?"
"Give it a minute," Garreth winked, already turning to regale a group of third-years with the 'scientific' benefits of his brew.
Natty leaned into Vivienne, her voice dropping below the roar of the party. "He has outdone himself tonight. It is good to see everyone so happy before we depart. You especially, my friend. You have been so busy with your... extra-curricular assignments lately. You look as though you have finally begun to breathe again."
Vivienne smiled, watching a pair of enchanted baubles chase each other around the Christmas tree. "It feels good to just be a student for an evening. No searching, no studying. Just Garreth’s questionable chemistry."
But as the laughter swelled and Natty began telling a story about the seasonal traditions in Matabeleland, Vivienne found her gaze wandering toward the portrait hole.
Her imagination pulled her though the stone tunnel and into the empty night beyond.
She thought of the cold, quiet corridors outside. She knew, with a certainty that pulled at her chest, exactly where Sebastian would be – shrouded in the dusty silence of the library or pacing the damp stone floor of the Undercroft. His mind would be a turbulent sea of dark theories and desperate frustration, finding the forced joy of the season to be nothing more than a shallow distraction from the looming shadows he fought.
Tracing the silver rim of her goblet, she closed her eyes.
She could almost feel the phantom pressure of his solid shoulder against hers. He would likely offer a scathing half-assed remark about the Gryffindor decor, his voice a low, rough velvet. Then, he would spend the night analyzing the volatile components of Garreth’s potion, leaning in close to whisper a secret joke meant for her ears alone—a fleeting moment of intimacy that would either ground her or set her ablaze.
The common room was full of her friends, full of warmth and light, but there was a specific, Sebastian-shaped hole in the evening that made the festive air feel just a little bit thinner.
“He would hate the music," Vivienne murmured, a small, private smile tugging at her lips.
"What was that?" Natty asked, tilting her head.
"Nothing," Vivienne lied, raising her cup. "Just thinking that even with Garreth’s best brew, some people are simply too stubborn to be cheered up."
Natty followed her friend’s desperate gaze to the door, her expression softening with a look of knowing and quiet understanding. "Perhaps. But perhaps they are just waiting for someone to bring the cheer to them."
Vivienne laughed, the heat of the cider finally staining her cheeks. "I think even I’m not that brave, Natty."
The golden warmth of the Gryffindor common room dimmed as the fire settled into a heap of glowing embers. One by one, students had drifted off to the dormitories, leaving only the faint scent of Garreth’s "Festive Fire-Breather" and the distant, muffled sound of snoring coming from students who didn’t make it to their beds.
Vivienne waited until the last pair of Seventh Years climbed the stairs before she grabbed her cloak.
She slipped through the portrait hole with a silent apology to the Fat Lady, who let out a sleepy, indignant grumble as the canvas swung shut. Her heart hammered against her ribs – not from fear of the prefects, but from an invisible charm that made the walls of the tower feel too small.
The corridors were vast and draped in the silver-blue light of a winter moon. Vivienne kept her back to the stones, her breath hitching at every creak and scuff of the floor.
She had barely made it past the first flight of stairs and into an arched hallway when a shape detached itself from the gloom nearby, movement swift and silent. She raised her wand, a stun on the tip of her tongue, when a hand shot out and gently caught her wrist.
"Careful, Viv. I’d hate for my last memory of the term to be waking up in the hospital wing with my hair singed off."
Vivienne let out a strangled gasp, her hand flying to her pounding heart from fear and relief.
"Sebastian! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Sebastian Sallow was leaning against a stone pillar, looking entirely too smug for a boy currently breaking school rules. Again. His hair was windswept and his cloak was dusted with a few stubborn snowflakes.
"I was just on my way to stage a daring rescue," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a reckless, giddy light that made her pulse skip. "I figured you’d been held hostage by a choir of singing Christmas crackers or, worse, one of Weasley’s experimental toasts."
"Huh.” A smile tugged at her lips, breaking through any previous anxiety. “And I was coming to rescue you from another detention incident," she admitted, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.
Sebastian’s smirk softened into something warmer. Something vulnerable, drenched in the moonlight. "Wonders never cease. The star pupil, sneaking out past curfew just to rescue a Slytherin? If the Headmaster heard of this, he’d have a stroke."
"Then we’d better make sure he doesn't," Vivienne teased, grabbing his warm hand and pulling him toward the shadows as the rhythmic thump-thump of a prefect’s footsteps echoed from the floor below.
She silently raised her wand, readying a disillusionment charm, as Sebastian practically read her mind.
“A Disillusionment Charm, really? How terribly Gryffindor of you,” Sebastian chided as he curled his fingers around her wrist. “Where’s the thrill in that? Safety is such a dull color on you, Vivienne.”
Vivienne shot him an incredulous look. “The thrill in not getting caught, Sebastian, is called not spending the rest of the term scrubbing cauldrons for Black. Some of us actually value our house points.”
His smirk only grew. “House points are a pittance. I’d rather see the look in your eyes when we’re a hair’s breadth from getting caught. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve, Vivienne.”
“I haven't lost anything,” Vivienne whispered, her defiance morphing into something far more dangerous as she met his gaze. “I just didn't realize you were in such a hurry to be ruined.”
“If it’s with you,” he murmured, his eyes tracking the movement of her throat as she swallowed, “I think I could be persuaded to enjoy the ruin.”
They moved as one, a synchronized blur of shadows navigating the moonlit corridors with a practiced grace born of bending the castle to their will. Yet, tonight, the air felt thick, charged with a frantic energy that made every breath a conscious effort.
They were coming down the stairs when a rhythmic clack of shoes echoed from the gallery above. The beam of a Lumos charm cut through the darkness, sweeping down from the landing above like a searchlight.
"Sharp’s on patrol," Sebastian hissed. "No – dammit, that’s a Seventh-Year prefect. Even worse. They think they’ve got something to prove."
"This way!" Vivienne whispered, tugging him toward a heavy evergreen velvet tapestry decorated with a three-headed dog.
They plunged behind it just as the light spilled into the corridor. The space was impossibly narrow, a shallow stone niche behind the fabric that smelled of ancient dust. Sebastian backed in first, pulling Vivienne with him until she was pressed firmly against the length of his body.
"Don't. Breathe," he mouthed, though his eyes were dancing with a reckless light that burned in the dark.
The footsteps slowed. The prefect stopped at the bottom of the stairs near the edge of the tapestry. The light from their wand seeped through the weave of the fabric, illuminating the silhouette of Sebastian’s face just inches from hers.
Her chest rose and fell against his, and she could feel the accelerating beating of his heart through his cloak. In the absolute silence of the hall, the sound of their breathing felt like a roaring secret.
Sebastian leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. She shivered.
"If we get caught," he whispered, his voice a ghost of a vibration, "I’m telling them you hexed me and dragged me here against my will. My reputation is at stake, Miss Ambrose."
The sheer absurdity of the lie, told in the middle of this escapade, sent a ripple of laughter up Vivienne's throat. She buried her face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound, her shoulders shaking against his chest.
"You wouldn't dare," she breathed into his collarbone.
"Oh, I would. I’ve already got the ‘damsel-in-distress’ face practiced," he murmured back. He mimicked an overly dramatic pout, his face contorting in the dim light.
Vivienne had to bite her lip so hard it stung to keep from erupting into full-blown giggles. The thrill of the danger, the ridiculousness of his jokes, and the warmth of him surrounding her created a dizzying, electric heat. She reached out, her hands instinctively grabbing the lapels of his cloak to steady herself as another wave of silent laughter hit her. He pulled her closer.
But as the footsteps finally began to recede, the humor began to shift into something far more heavy and concentrated. Their mingled breath was thick in front of them.
The laughter died in her throat, leaving them in a silence that was no longer about hiding. Sebastian’s hands, which had been resting tentatively on her waist to keep her from bumping the tapestry, tightened. The air in the tiny niche felt suddenly, incredibly hot.
Vivienne looked up at him. Had they been this close the whole time?
His head was tilted back against the stone wall, his gaze locked on her with a devastating intensity that left her feeling bare. The shrinking space amplified every sensation – the rigidity in his arms, the slight wobble in his hands holding her waist, the way his breath hitched as she shifted against him.
"Vivienne," he whispered, her name sounding less like a greeting and more like a realization.
She watched, frozen, as his gaze dropped to her lips and stayed there. The playful partner energy of the evening had vanished, overtaken by a raw, magnetic pull that rendered her helpless. In the dark, hidden from the world, the boundaries they usually kept so carefully in place felt thin enough to snap. Her heart pounded as if to break them itself.
Sebastian leaned ever so slightly, his thumb tracing her waist with a slow, agonizing deliberation. For a heartbeat, the castle didn't exist – there was only the scent of him and the weight of his stare.
The jarring sound of metal clanged around the corner, followed by shouting and labored grunting.
“I could do this for all eternity – and I just might!”
“Are you a muggle or a musketeer? Fight me!”
Vivienne flinched at the sound of the duel, bumping into Sebastian hard. The spell between them broke. They stared at each other in silence, eyes wide, as they listened to the thrusting and parrying from their hideaway. The sounds vanished as abruptly as they appeared.
Sebastian blinked, his hand dropping as he let out a long, shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh of relief—or frustration.
"Right," he rasped, his voice sounding completely wrecked. "They –”
“… Yeah, it’s –”
“We should… probably move."
Vivienne nodded, her mind spinning as she tried to remember how to breathe. "Right. Move. Somewhere... less crowded."
He reached out, pulling the edge of the tapestry back just enough to peek out, but he didn't step out immediately. He turned back to her, a small, lopsided smile returning to his face – one that was a little more fragile. A little more honest than usual.
"That was a close one," he barely whispered.
"Very," Vivienne agreed, staring up at him. She wasn’t talking about the prefect.
They found their way up to the Astronomy Tower, slipping out onto the viewing platform that overlooked the snow-covered grounds. The Black Lake was a sheet of obsidian, reflecting the stars like a mirror. The Highlands stretched beyond, white-capped and ancient, while the stars hung so low it felt as if they might snag on the castle’s spires.
Vivienne could see her breath in front of her, lazily pluming and mingling with Sebastian’s, before it disappeared together into the night.
"Safe," Sebastian breathed, leaning his elbows on the metal railing and looking out at the scene before them. He looked alive in a way he never quite did in the classroom – the shadows under his eyes seemed less heavy, the sharp line of his jaw more relaxed. Carefree brown eyes, no trace of the too-old and too-tired ones she normally stared into.
Vivienne’s heartbeat barely slowed as she watched him, taking him in. She swallowed.
"I missed you tonight," Vivienne said softly, the confession slipping out before she could check her tongue. Her hands retreated up into her sleeves. She felt color rising to her cheeks and thanked the stars they kept quiet.
Sebastian turned to look at her, the moonlight catching the splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He didn't make a joke. He slowly reached out, catching a stray curl of her hair and tucking it behind her ear.
Her skin warmed even more under his fleeting touch.
"I was there, you know," he said, his voice low. "Outside the portrait hole. I stood there for ages trying to figure out if I could talk my way past the Fat Lady without a password."
"You would have tried to talk to a painting?"
"I would argue with far less sentient things for the sake of your company, Vivienne," he teased, though his gaze remained fixed on her. "Besides, I figured the Gryffindors were having too much fun. I didn't want to ruin the 'festive' atmosphere with my brooding."
"You aren't broody," she said, bumping her shoulder against his. "You're just... focused."
"On you, mostly," he whispered.
She let the words sit silently between them, willing her heart to calm down. God, she wanted to touch him again.
Sebastian let out a long, steaming breath, and watched it vanish into the night.
"I used to think the Astronomy wing was the most boring place in the castle," Sebastian said, his voice low and contemplative. "Too much math, too little action. But tonight… I don't know. It feels like the only place that's actually quiet enough to hear myself think."
Vivienne looked up, tracing the silver lines of Gemini in the sky. "It makes everything feel small, doesn't it? The school, the assignments... even the things we’re worried about."
Sebastian turned his head to look at her, the moonlight carving the sharp angles of his face into something softer. "Do you ever wonder about them, Viv? Not just as navigation points or Arithmancy variables. But why we’re so obsessed with looking up?"
Vivienne smiled, leaning her chin on her hand as she turned to look at him. "I’ve always wondered why people like stargazing, even after all this time."
Sebastian let out a soft, dry chuckle before turning back to the shimmering expanse above. "A better question would be... do they gaze back?"
"Do you think they do?" she asked softly. She didn’t dare look away.
"I think if they do, they’re probably laughing at us," he said, the familiar wit returning to his voice, though it lacked its usual bite. "Imagine being eternal, burning for billions of years, and watching two teenagers nearly get caught by a prefect because they were hiding behind a dusty rug.”
“We probably look like the dust to them."
"I don't find much comfort in being dust," Sebastian said, his dry tone returning, though it was softer now. Heavy. "I’d rather be the one moving the stars around. Or at least one who knows how it works."
"You want to understand everything," Vivienne noted. "Every spell, every relic, every secret. Why is that? Is it just the challenge, or are you looking for something specific?"
Sebastian’s expression shifted. The playful light in his eyes flickered, replaced by something deep and unending. He looked back at the hills, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the railing.
"I think... I think I just don't like being helpless," he confessed. "The world is full of things that can break you without even trying. Sickness, accidents… rules. If I know more – if I have the power to change the outcome – then maybe the people I care about won't have to suffer the way my parents did. Or Anne."
He paused, the weight of his sister’s name hanging in the air. "Everyone thinks I’m just being reckless. Even Ominis. But I’m not looking for glory, Viv. I’m looking for a way to make the world stop saying 'no' to the people I love."
Vivienne felt a sharp tug at her heart. She reached out, her hand covering his on the railing. "You don't have to do it alone, Sebastian. You know that, right?"
He turned his hand over, interlacing his warm fingers with hers. He didn't pull her closer, but the connection was dear. "I know,” he breathed. “It’s just... hard to trust that the bridge will hold when you’ve spent so much time building it yourself."
He looked at her then, his eyes searching hers with a terrifying sincerity. She was exposed to him again, with no tapestry to hide behind from the world in front of her. "You’re the only person who doesn't look at me like I’m a problem to be solved, Vivienne. You look at me like... like I’m a partner. Like we’re actually in this together."
"We are," she whispered. "Through the vaults, through the detentions, through whatever comes next. I’m not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
It was a small word, almost childlike in its vulnerability, and it hit Vivienne harder than any curse could have.
"Promise," she echoed. The simple vow hung in the silent night air.
Sebastian let out a long, ragged breath, a ghost of a smile returning to his face. "Good. Because I’d hate to have to hunt you down across the globe. It would be very time-consuming, and my Italian is abysmal."
Vivienne laughed, the tension breaking into a warm, glowing comfort. "Is that right? Well, I’ll make sure to stay put just to save you the trouble of a translation charm."
They stood there for a long time, the cold seeping into their bones but neither wanting to be the first to move. They talked about the future – not the dark, looming things that threatened their world, but the small hopeful things they rarely allowed themselves to dream of.
Sebastian told her about his dream of traveling to the ruins of Greece; Vivienne told him she just wanted a simple garden where she didn't have to worry about the plants trying to eat her.
He wanted to learn how to properly fence one day – to duel without magic, and to put an end to Sir Gregor and Sir Gareth’s interruptions.
She wished to try some fancy chocolates she saw in a shop window long ago, a luxury she was never allowed.
“I’ll buy you some,” he pledged, his voice low and intense, promising more than just chocolate. “The best I can find.”
The descent from the Astronomy Tower was far slower than the ascent. The biting winter air at the top of the tower had left their skin tingling, but the heat between their joined hands radiated. Every time they rounded a corner, they didn't just stop – they gravitated toward one another.
"Wait," Sebastian whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration as they reached a courtyard.
He didn't just signal for her to stop; he caught her by the waist and pulled her into the deep shadow of an arched overhang. There was no prefect this time—just the distant, rhythmic ticking of the Great Clock—but neither of them seemed inclined to point that out.
Vivienne’s back pressed against the rough, chilled stone, but her front was shielded by the heavy wool of Sebastian’s cloak. He didn't pull his hands away this time. Instead, they lingered at her hips, his thumbs tracing her hip bone with a slow, distracting rhythm. She was glad for the wall’s support.
"Is there someone there?" Vivienne breathed, her eyes searching his. She already knew the answer, but the pretense of this hunt was the only thing keeping her from unraveling.
"Maybe," Sebastian murmured, leaning down so his lips were a hair’s breadth from her temple. His breath was hot against her skin. "Or maybe I just realized I haven't teased you about something in at least twenty minutes. It’s a record, really."
Vivienne let out a soft, shaky laugh, her hands finding their way to his chest. She could feel the solid heat of him through his layers. A rising steady thrum that matched the terrifying pace of her own heart. She let her fingers trail upward, tracing the silver embroidery of his Slytherin tie before resting at the nape of his neck.
"You're a terrible liar, Sebastian Sallow," she whispered.
"I’m an excellent liar," he corrected, his voice dropping to a velvety rasp that she felt down to her toes. He stepped closer, bridging the last inch of space between them until she could feel the buttons of his shirt pressing against her – a physical barrier that felt hopelessly flimsy. "I’ve spent the whole night pretending I wasn't thinking about that damn tapestry."
The charged air between them was akin to the prickling sensation her magic brought before it crashed down around her. Every lingering touch – the way his hand drifted from her waist to the small of her back, the way she leaned into him to merge their shadows – felt like a question they were both too terrified to answer.
He was so, so close to her.
Sebastian didn't speak; he didn't need to. His eyes dropped again. Dangerous. He slowly leaned down, his forehead resting against hers, his breath hitching as he closed the final, agonizing inch of space between them.
The world – the castle, the rebellion, the shadows creeping into their lives – narrowed down to this single, explosive point of contact.
His lips brushed against hers, a whisper of a promise, soft and unbearably slow, before he paused, giving her one last chance to pull away. Vivienne’s hands tightened on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, her breath catching in a heady desire.
With a low, ragged sound, Sebastian broke the boundary.
The kiss was everything the months of teasing and flirting had promised – desperate and vulnerable and all-consuming. It was longing and relief, their mouths moving together with a synchronized hunger that felt inevitable, a desperate attempt to tether them together.
Her teeth claimed his lower lip as she dragged him closer. He responded with fervor, his solid arms enveloping her in a tangle of robes. One low on her back, the other cradling the back of her head as he pinned her against the unforgiving stone wall.
She melted into him. He was tantalizing, and addicting, and grounding. There was only him – in front of her, in her mind, in her mouth, in her hands.
They pulled apart slowly, the freezing air of the night rushing in to fill the space between them, yet it did nothing to cool the inferno in Vivienne’s veins. Sebastian’s forehead still rested against hers, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy and ragged in the suffocating silence of the courtyard.
His hands were still firmly on her waist, gripping her as if afraid she might vanish into the shadows.
"Vivienne," he whispered, his voice broken, a rough vibration against her skin. It was a plea, a confession, and a terrifying realization all at once.
He had said her name dozens, hundreds of times by this point. But now it carried a weight that threatened to crush them both. She wanted him to say it over and over. She swore to herself she would never get tired of it rolling off his tongue and slipping through those lips.
She couldn't speak. Her voice was gone, stolen by the sheer intensity of what had just passed between them. She simply nodded, her hands still tangled in his hair, memorizing the textures of her undoing. The silence that followed was thick and laden with the weight of unspoken promises and the terrifying uncertainty of what this meant for them.
As they moved toward the Grand Staircase, the sneaking became an excuse for constant, incidental contact. A hand on her elbow to guide her through the shadows; breath brushing against ears as they crouched behind a marble banister; fingers clinging together as they raced up a shifting flight of stairs. It was another dance of almosts that left Vivienne’s skin humming.
They reached the corridor leading to the Fat Lady’s portrait. The hall was silent, bathed in the soft, dying glow of the wall sconces.
Sebastian stopped at the end of the corridor, pulling her around the corner into the final shadow of the evening. He didn't let go of her hand. Instead, he took both of hers in his, bringing them up to his mouth, and kissed the inside of her wrist, before trapping them firmly against his heart. She felt it thunder beneath her touch.
"Well," he tried, the witty banter finally failing him. His lowered eyes searched hers with a raw hunger that made her breath hitch in her throat. "I suppose this is where the Gryffindor returns to her tower and the Slytherin crawls back to his dungeons."
"It seems that way," Vivienne whispered. Merlin, she wanted to burst.
Sebastian leaned in, his gaze dropping to her lips, then back to her eyes. She was mesmerized by his smallest movements. He reached out with one hand, his fingers tangling in the hair at the back of her head, drawing her just a fraction closer. The world narrowed down to the scent of cedarwood, the cold stone at their backs, and the desperate pull of wanting.
He kissed her forehead – a lingering, soft touch that felt more like a brand, a claim, than a goodbye – and then he let his lips drift down to the corner of her mouth, hesitating there for a heartbeat that stretched for an eternity.
"Goodnight, Vivienne," he rasped against her skin.
He pulled back, but only just far enough to look at her, his hands still clinging as if he couldn't quite bring himself to release her.
"Goodnight, Sebastian," she managed, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her body ached for more of him.
She turned toward the portrait, giving the password in a dazed murmur. As the canvas swung open, she looked back one last time. Sebastian was still standing in the shadows, his silhouette dark and resolute, watching her with an intensity that promised this was only the beginning.