Unforgivable - Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader x Ominis Gaunt

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

𝕐/ℕ

The world around me gradually stopped spinning and slowed as we landed, but my vision and my mind did not. 

I did not land as elegantly and gracefully as I did with Professor Weasley...quite the opposite. My knees buckled the moment my feet touched a solid surface, and I crashed down onto the floor...which was made of pale, beige stone...cold and unforgiving. 

I cried out in pain as my body smacked down against the floor, and winced as some of the more jagged parts of the stone bit against my palms and the side of my face. My dress sprawled out around me, and my veil encompassed my shoulders like a shroud...though it did absolutely nothing in the way of protection...let alone shield me from the man who dragged me to this place. 

"Apologies," his sinister voice rang out from somewhere behind me. "I know it's customary for the groom to carry his new bride across the threshold, but as you're aware...we were in a bit of a rush." 

I pushed myself off the floor, nails digging into the stone as I attempted to refrain from vomiting due to the fear that was tearing at my insides like a wild, feral beast. I turned until I was sitting straight, and I lifted my eyes to him, squinting as the spinning began to slow and my captor slowly came into focus.

At first, I thought it a nightmare. Perhaps I was still asleep, and I'd dreamt up all the wedding preparation, only for the dream to have turned sour right at the most crucial moment. Knowing how my head works...it wouldn't be such an outlandish belief to have. 

But upon studying him...I realized right away that it couldn't be a nightmare. The last time I'd lain eyes on Sebastian Sallow, he was a mere boy. Sixteen years of age. His face was still rounded with youth, his eyes still bright and glistening with hope, a body not fully grown into yet. That is how he appeared in my nightmares...that teenage boy. The last image I'd ever maintained of him.

But this was no mere boy standing before me now. He was a grown man...an entirely different man at that. His eyes no longer held a hopeful glimmer, but rather, they were darkened with hatred...with bloodlust...with soullessness. In the dim lighting in the foreign room around us that emanated from a few wall sconces...they almost appeared to be black, rather than brown. He was brooding...foreboding...terrifying. 

His hair was the same, however...that same jostled array of brown swoops and curls...that same rich brown. It was a bit longer than before, but not too much so. His broad face had matured tenfold since I last saw it, and it was twisted up into an expression of rage met with satisfaction...arrogance. His full lips were tight, his eyes scanning my every move. And despite the fact he hadn't seen the sunlight for a decade...his freckles were still prominent across his cheeks. 

I half expected his body to be thin, skin and bone...the product of a decade of malnourishment just like the other prisoners I'd witnessed in the cells neighboring his own. But it wasn't. He was a wall of solid muscle. He was lean, not an ounce of fat on him to be sure...but enough mass to him that could challenge a fully grown graphorn. He was threatening to burst free of that pitch black suit he was adorned in...the seams clinging to each other for dear life. But that's simply because that suit wasn't made for him. It was made for the body of another.

Made for...Ominis.

"Where is he?" I demanded. I tried to will my voice into being confident and strong...but it came out as more of a raspy choke. There was no point in kidding either of us...I wasn't confident. I was horrified...knowing that every breath I take in his presence may very well be my last. "Where's...where's Ominis? What have you done to him?"