Chapter Text
Chapter One: Lukewarm Reunion
He turned the parchment over in his hands, reading it again and again, trying to digest its meaning. He'd never thought news this splendid would make him feel so weary.
Admittedly, when he'd first thrown his lot in with the pureblood supremacists, he hadn't expected much to come of it. He'd only expected to be led to some possibly useful resources. He hadn't been asked to do much, just sent on errands to infiltrate select individuals. Low-hanging fruit, even for them.
Until now.
Someone, and his contact seemed awfully certain of herself, had the power to cure blood maledictions.
She wrote that this man had done it before, but, she said, he would need some convincing. It was about time he brushed up on those Crucio skills. They had softened the target up for him.
He was, of course, not above torturing someone if it got him the results he desired. Wouldn’t be the first time.
He made his way to the meeting point with uncharacteristic unease. On the eve of such an opportunity, he should have been jumping on his heels, yet the prospect of torturing people he didn't have a personal beef with, purely for information, hadn't exactly grown on him over the years.
He preferred clandestine operations. People were messy. When pressed, they all said what he wanted to hear. It was much more practical to forgo these confrontations altogether.
The door of the warehouse opened with a loud creak, and the stench of blood and Lobalug venom hit him like a wall.
They clearly didn't need him. They just wanted to see if his heart was in the right place. This was likely meant to be a test of his loyalty. He had admitted demonstrated a level of avoidance to violence.
Someone he didn't recognise stood beside the entrance next to Arlie. A few other familiar faces were scattered here and there amidst the little crowd, ten, maybe fifteen people. They parted at his arrival to reveal the centre of attention.
A man sat there, bound to a chair, head fallen over. His mangled face was shadowed by blood-soaked red locks that bobbed slightly with each ragged breath, coming out as pathetic wet wheezes.
"Sebastian!" Freda beamed, swaying into his line of vision from behind her toy for the day. "How nice of you to finally join us!"
"We got a special treat for you today! This maggot fancies himself a Slytherin, if you can believe that." She giggled, and the crowd erupted in laughter.
She clapped her hands and ran her bony fingers through her victim's hair, snapping his head back.
"As if Salazar Slytherin would ever let his kind hold a wand, much less let him through the school gates." She murmured as she backhanded him. The echo of the loud smack overshadowed her cracking voice, "Traitors, all of them!"
Each time she moved, he felt the knot in his chest tighten. He feared she'd step aside and unveil who Sebastian knew to be sitting in that chair.
"And they have the gall to steal the magic of our ancestors, hoard our legacy for themselves!"
He knew instinctively who the man was as soon as he heard that throaty chuckle, followed by the shit-eating grin putting all of his blood-covered teeth on display, no matter how badly they'd damaged his face.
"Sticks an' stones, luv." He slurred, barely coherent, more blood trickling down his chin with each syllable.
"Crucio~" Freda preened, circling him like a predator with calm delight. "They even squeak like pigs—"
It would perhaps be apt to say that he felt possessed, idle hands reaching for his wand without his control. It was an impulse, a reflex, an act disconnected and fundamentally detached from any form of coherent thought.
Freda was a scrawny young woman. She liked shepherd's pie and chamomile tea, both Muggle inventions, not that she knew it. She fancied Sebastian, and if her pastime hobbies hadn't included vying for mass murder, Sebastian might have fancied her too.
Over the span of six months spent in and out of her bed, Sebastian, against his will, had learned many tidbits about her. Predictably, she liked to be in control, though she didn't actually enjoy it all that much. She simply wasn't used to being spoiled between the sheets, and it made her anxious. Sebastian used to find that a little sad.
None of it mattered. With a single green light from his wand, it all lay dead next to her on the ground.
He estimated he had half a second more before the audience processed what they’ve just witnessed and made minced meat out of him, he, for whatever reason, chose to use it by throwing a Relashio towards their center of attention.
He barely made out a vague Protego shield erupting around them before he heard a coarse cry of "Pestis Incendium!" and fire surrounded his entire vision.
He had half a mind to shield himself from the cacophony of spells cast in the wake of his betrayal. He managed to ward off some, purely by reflex. It felt so natural to fight beside his old accomplice. They always did make a good team.
A deadly team.
He'd seemed to be in a state to fight, at least. It would have been far too unlikely for him to let a few washed-up dark wizards get the better of him to begin with.
Within a few minutes, the fight was over. They stood over the fallen members of Sebastian's new ‘friends.’
"Yer wand, quick!" The other man shouted from behind him.
"What?"
"Yer up shit creek, mate. Just give me the wand!"
5th Year - 1st Semester
"Nervous?" Sebastian teased.
The other boy pouted, scanning the towering shelves of dusty, unclaimed cases. "'Bout a fancy twig?"
"You already knocked me off my arse with a borrowed one." He gave Rhys a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Imagine what you'll achieve with your own."
Unfortunately, the process didn't go nearly so smoothly as Sebastian had anticipated. When Ollivander had first fitted him for his own wand, it had taken a few tries, though he'd been assured that Sebastian’s case wasn't exactly a common occurrence.
It seemed his luck -or lack thereof- had rubbed off on the newcomer. Rhys went through five wands before finding one that didn't try to combust at the first touch, which made it something of a mystery how he'd managed not to kill anyone with the borrowed one.
"What's yours, then?" he asked, mostly to distract himself while Mr Ollivander disappeared into the back of the shop to contemplate his next approach, rather than out of any genuine curiosity.
Sebastian drew his wand and rolled it between his fingers, showing it off, then snatched it back the moment Rhys reached for it. "Not sure I should hand this over."
His wand was a very unfortunate combination of two extremely particular components. On the rare occasion someone else tried to cast with it, the results were catastrophic, but hilarious nonetheless. And he wouldn't be much of a Slytherin if he hadn't been prone to a little mischief every now and then.
Rhys rolled his eyes. "Come on, mate. What's the worst I can do? Set the shop on fire?" He gestured towards the scorch marks already blackening one corner, courtesy of his own earlier attempts.
"Just don't give it 'a swish'," he said with a smirk before handing it over.
Rhys held it like a wet piece of tissue paper– seemed almost afraid of it, if anything. Sebastian might have been offended, if he thought for a second the boy knew the first thing about blackthorn's reputation. As it was, he was simply erring on the side of caution, for once.
The wand sat snugly in his palm, with no apparent complaint, and Rhys finally gathered the courage to examine it. The handle was chipped and wonky, Sebastian had almost forgotten it until he saw it in the other boy's hand. It was a hand-me-down from Solomon, one of those things that are given out thoughtlessly out of necessity rather than any genuine bond.
"How peculiar…" The wandmaker scuttled closer, adjusting his glasses, eyes narrowing with sudden interest. "Well, go on, give it a swish!"
"Don’ think I should…" Rhys shot Sebastian a questioning look, which he answered with a shrug.
Reluctantly, Rhys flicked the wand, and, to everyone's mild surprise, nothing caught fire. At least not in their immediate vicinity.
Ollivander plucked it from his hand, studying it with newfound fascination. "Blackthorn. Eleven and three-quarter inches. Unyielding." He turned it slowly, murmuring to himself. "Curious… Curious, indeed."
"What?"
"Mr Sallow's wand proved a challenge too. Dragon heartstring, paired with quite an unusual wand wood– one whose loyalty must be earned rather than given… But unyielding... an unyielding blackthorn will not suffer being held by anyone but its true master."
"Poor Weasley dissolved the bones in his entire arm trying to cast a simple Levioso," Sebastian offered, grinning.
"The f—" Rhys caught himself, biting the inside of his cheek. "Why'd you give me that for?!"
"Could it be..." the wandmaker mused, entirely unbothered by his client's distress. He shoved aside a great stack of fresh boxes from the top shelf and began rummaging through older stock beneath.
Rhys sidled up next to Sebastian to avoid the resulting dust cloud, brushing a fine layer from his shoulders. "What's he on about?" he whispered.
"I can never tell."
"Dunno what all the fuss is about. Was doin' fine as it was–"
Before he could finish the thought, Ollivander thrust a well-worn, faintly moth-eaten case in front of his face. "Here. Take it."
Rhys plucked it out warily and put a few careful steps between himself and the others, clearly braced for another destructive incident. He gave it a half-hearted wave and ducked immediately afterwards, –though nothing happened.
"Once again," Ollivander urged, "really mean it, this time."
"Mean what?"
He clapped his hands together. "Magic!"
"Right…"
Rhys drew a breath, steadied himself, and brought his arm down in a single sharp motion, as though he were swinging a blade.
A thin, violent line of wind followed the movement, slicing clean through the unfortunate counter situated right in front of him in the cleanest display of Diffindo Sebastian had ever witnessed. All without incantation, too. Nothing but a gesture.
"Marvellous!" Ollivander breathed, sagging with relief.
"Marvell– Are you mental? You can kill someone with that–!" Rhys flailed a hand towards the ruined counter, and in his outrage the wand slipped clean from his grip.
Before it could roll away, Sebastian caught it with the toe of his boot and scooped it up. He didn't know enough about wands to be able to tell much about it, but it looked gnarled and rough– somehow oddly fitting for its new owner.
"Well, it’s chosen you–" He pressed it back into Rhys's palm. "Try not to cut anyone in half."
"Heartstring of a Hungarian Horntail is not easily won over. Countless capable hunters have perished in pursuit of this beast." Ollivander's gaze sharpened. "Mr Lloyd, I will tell you what I told Mr Sallow five years ago: with this wand, you'll find that the most destructive spells come as easily as the simplest charm… I urge you to handle it with utmost care– in the hands of a dark wizard, the devastation it could wreak is immeasurable. Immeasurable, indeed."
"So don't drop it," Sebastian teased.
Rhys shoved his own wand against Sebastian's chest. "Don't get smart."
He left the shop with the same bafflement he'd entered with, close at his heels.
"So we are what, then? Wandsies?"
"Wandsies?"
"Yeah. Same wand, innit?"
"Wandsies?" he repeated. "Uttering that word should be considered an Unforgivable Curse."
Rhys narrowed his eyes, a foxy little smirk tugging at his mouth. "Mine's longer, though. Just sayin'."
"And knobblier."
He complied, but let the question hang in the air.
The other man quickly stashed Sebastian's wand in the pocket of a relatively non-crispy dead man, and just in time, too, because they soon found themselves surrounded by an opponent of an entirely different calibre.
One of the Aurors stepped forward. "Mr Lloyd, why am I not surprised?"
He threw his arms up in surrender, a distinctly Muggle gesture he still retained. "You wouldn't happen to have some Wiggenweld Potion on ya, would ya?"
The woman casually threw a vial his way. "Knock yourself out."
"Cheers." He downed the potion and sucked in a sharp breath as his face rebuilt itself.
"Fiendfyre, Lloyd? You're bordering on illicit territory. Again."
"'Bordering' bein' the operative word there."
She approached Sebastian with caution, wand still ready at hand. "Friend of yours?"
Sebastian swallowed and opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"Yeah, from Hogwarts. Got to him before they got to me, tryin' to get a lead or whatever."
"He looks to be in pretty good shape for someone who received the traditional dark wizard welcome."
Rhys shrugged. "They didn't have to rough him up now, did they? They got me. They was probably gonna do him in."
"Your wand." The woman ignored his jabs and extended a hand to Sebastian.
"I don't have it," he said, his gaze darting between Rhys and the Auror.
After all these years, he was still covering for him. For whatever reason.
"Check the bodies," she ordered.
When his wand came out of a pocket of one of their targets, nobody inspected the cast spells. In fact, no further questioning took place at all. Seemed Rhys had nurtured enough goodwill with law enforcement for them to look the other way, which shouldn't have come as a surprise, given how easily he networked.
"Aight,if we're all done, I'm gonna grab a couple o' pints with me old mate here." He grabbed him by the shoulder and practically hauled him outside before the Aurors could investigate further, ignoring the protests of the officer who politely withheld her suspicions.
He found himself dragged to a Muggle pub two streets down. The other man kept his mouth tightly shut until they got their drinks.
He washed up at the loo, and Sebastian had the chance to see the man in all his glory once again.
Years had been extremely kind to him, physically. He retained the fine physique of an athlete, though he doubted Rhys still played. Despite his stocky frame, he appeared somewhat malnourished, sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks that resembled the first time he'd set foot in Hogwarts rather than how he'd left it.
He was handsome. Sebastian could admit that to himself now. In fact, the lack of confusion and guilt that came with that single admission was immensely liberating. Even with his chapped lips and mussed hair, even with tired eyes and neglected stubble, he was still the most attractive person he'd ever seen.
Nothing had changed.
"Right, what the fuck?" Rhys said finally.
He just gave him a shrug. They hadn't talked in some six years. Even back at Hogwarts, they'd barely interacted after that whole ordeal with his uncle. As reunions went, this was not exactly ideal.
He hadn't changed much, aside from the nine o'clock shadow painting his cheeks. His face, even healed, held more scars than he remembered, but his dishevelled hair and the dark circles under his eyes hadn't fixed themselves with age. Same blasé tone, same profanities.
"You're working for the Ministry now?" he asked instead.
"I don't, actually. Ominis asked me to look into this one. He was bangin' on about losin' his 'friend', but you're glad I got there before the cavalry, right?"
"And your brilliant plan was to get captured and tortured?"
"I was stalling. Didn't expect ya to floor the fucker immediately, did I?"
"Oh?" He snorted over his drink. "Was I supposed to read your mind?"
He snickered. "Hadn't learned that spell off your new mates, I wager."
"They're not—" He let out a deep breath. "I thought they could help me with my research."
"Yeah, I bet. How's that workin' out for ya?"
"Poorly, as you may have guessed."
"Tortured any filthy Mudbloods lately?"
Not tortured. Harassed.
And now he was here with a Muggleborn he had saved. Who he had killed for. But if he looked up, he'd be compelled to reconcile, so instead he fixed his gaze on the foam bubbling on his drink.
6th Year - 1st Semester
"This tastes like piss." Rhys huffed, crinkling his nose at the butterbeer.
"It is an acquired taste, I admit." Natty nodded. She'd barely touched her own.
Sebastian swiped the redhead's drink from under his nose. "More for me, then."
"Fine, but I ain't paying." he shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't look now, but I think you got an admirer." Natty nudged him on the shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows towards the table to their left, occupied by a cluster of fifth-year girls who had their eyes fixed rather pointedly in their direction.
Rhys tilted his head towards Sebastian, unbothered. "I ain't the prize catch, luv, just the runner-up. Mighty fine one at that, mind."
Sebastian chuckled. "Humble, as always."
Natty seemed less than convinced. She kept on, grinning wide. "Regardless, you might want to start planning for Halloween."
"Reckoned I'd go with you," he mumbled.
"I am flattered, but I am already spoken for."
"What? By who? Why?"
"I have admirers too, you know."
"No, yeah– For sure." He trailed off, throwing a quick glance at the opposite table, weighing his options.
Rhys hadn't shown much interest in dating, though he'd been spoiled for choice since day one. Sebastian assumed he'd been busy enough with hauling their arse out of trouble and all to be thinking about romance, and he certainly didn't lack for extracurricular activities to keep himself preoccupied besides.
"Who you taking?" he asked Sebastian, changing tack.
"Haven't thought about it," he admitted. He'd had a few offers, but nothing specific had struck his fancy. Truth be told, he wanted to ask Sweeting. They hadn't exactly talked much, save for the odd bit of casual chatter within Rhys's circle, but she seemed a nice enough girl.
Rhys leaned back in his seat and scanned the room, his gaze eventually catching on the far side of the inn. "Oi, Evie! Evangeline!" he bellowed over the din of the patrons.
The girl's head snapped up in confusion, her features tensing the moment she spotted the source of the voice.
"You free for the masquerade?!"
"Whatever, don't tell me." Rhys shook his head. "But that shit's low, bruv. Even for you."
"Even for me?" He raised a brow. "We haven't spoken in years, I haven't seen your face since graduation, and now you're giving me a scolding? Is that it?"
"Just tryin' to wrap me head around it."
"Well, don't."
"Charmin'." Rhys sighed with a dry chuckle. "Go on then. Don't let me keep ya from your new hobbies."
Sebastian grabbed his coat and jumped to his feet. He took a few lurching steps towards the door before turning back with the same brash motion. "What are you going to tell Ominis?"
"That I fucked up some dark wizards," Rhys said from his seat.
"Still blowing smoke up his arse?"
"Apparently tryin' to blow it up yours, you absolute fuckin' bellend," he sneered.
They could have done this back and forth until they ran out of insults, or he could just leave.
That is, if his limbs weren't fighting against his will like rusty hinges. It should have been logical to get out while he still had the chance, because he remembered how it felt to watch him walk away the last time. He'd rather not go through that again.
Rhys had every right to be cross with him. He deserved his contempt. Him, Anne, Ominis...
The rational part of his brain knew that. Nevertheless, that didn't seem to be the part that had been in control today.
In his anger, he stormed away from the road to find a safe place to Apparate without prying eyes. He eventually reached a relatively secluded clearing and cast some Disillusionment Charms just to be sure. He'd likely just be fined, but it was wise to keep low for a while, especially since he'd just been caught red-handed and narrowly escaped a trial that would no doubt have landed him in Azkaban.
He Apparated to his room at the Leaky Cauldron, where he'd made a temporary residence for the time being. He never got around to getting his own place. Never saw the need.
Stacks of books and tomes filling his room wavered at his entry; some fell down with a gentle breeze. He didn't even remember what half of them were for, but he kept them close at hand just in case he needed to decipher an obscure incantation.
The dark wizards were a dead end too. So he could cross that off.
He dropped himself onto the bed and swiped the clutter of papers off the mattress with his arm.
Today, Sebastian realised, much to his dismay, that he missed him. And quite clearly, he hadn't moved on from him.
After six years, Rhys still had the power to waltz into his life and topple it upside down without a care.
No, Rhys wasn't the cheeky little shite he used to be. He was a bit of a prick, really, though that had done little to deter Sebastian's fancy then, and it did nothing to dissuade it now.
He could've asked him about Anne. He'd be sure to be keeping in touch. He could've asked him about himself. They could have bantered about everything and nothing, like they used to.
He'd disappeared after graduation. He had kept in touch with some of his friends, but the general consensus was that he'd returned to the Muggle world. That's where he'd always been more at peace.
From what Sebastian had heard, he'd turned down some sweet station from the Ministry. Auror headhunters had been on his tail on the back of his stellar N.E.W.T. scores. That's something they both shared; Sebastian had had to avoid more than his fair share of rather aggressive offers back in the day.
For all their bravado, neither of them was made for that life, it seemed. Rhys trusted the law as far as he could throw it, given his past.