Covered In You | Sebastian Sallow

𝒮𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝒪𝓃𝑒: 𝒯𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝒯𝓌𝑜

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Maisie Peters - Milhouse

~ * * ˏˋ ☾ ˎˊ * * ~

25 July 1896

The Ancient Magic coursed through her veins; Rosalie could nearly see it reflecting in her own irises. The blue and silver wisps that made her whole. The magic that was fueled by the heat and energy from her soul; it caused her to physically feel its warmth atop of her prickly skin. A power that wrapped around her arm so tightly, aching to break free from her fingertips. The magic that many wizards were blind to, but it was a magic that made her the greatest weapon the Ministry of Magic had to offer.

Yet she never once had to use this great power in the field. During each battle, she swallowed the magic down. She tried to forget it existed, although it tried tearing through her skin with each swish of her wand. She forced it deep inside her core, refusing to become the weapon the Ministry sought after. Distracting her mind from using the magic caused her more harm than good. It kept her guard down to her enemies; it was challenging to keep her wits about, but Rosalie still never lost a duel.

"Incarcerous!" she roared, securing the last poacher in the camp in the Forbidden Forest—just south of North Ford Bog. She crossed her arms and huffed a relived breath. Another victorious day working for the Ministry.

"Untie me, you barbaric wench!" the freshly tethered old man spat; his chest heaved against the tightly wrapped ropes.

Rosalie rolled her eyes and crouched in front of his face. His reddened cheeks were covered in dirt, and the cut above his eyebrow was slowly bleeding down. "I'm not listening to you berate me while you beg," she toyed with a chuckle.

"You and your little bastard partner can all go to hell!"

She stood and turned on her heel, exposing her back to the poacher and her partner. "Bruin, put him to sleep. I'm ready to end this."

Bruin masked a brave face; this was his first real experience in the field ever since he moved up in rank after the International meeting. He had spent the entire day studying Rosalie and her movements. How she instigated an attack. How she tried her best to use the least amount of magic. He was left with many questions, but surely all will be answered with more experience.

He swished his wand in a zigzag motion. Suddenly, the poacher relaxed his breathing and a soft snore escaped him. "That was fun," he commented sarcastically.

"Clearing poacher camps is never fun. Especially when you nearly get your head blown off," she scoffed and he flushed with embarrassment. "Now, we have to lug these bodies to Pilliwickle." A bitter taste lingered in her mouth.

"Wait, can we not apparate them to the Ministry?" he asked, perplexed.

"No, there's charms and wards to prevent apparation. It would be dangerous if anyone and everyone could appear anywhere they wanted.