HL one shots + asks

Arm Candy

You were always told that boys would be boys. You thought it meant that they would still enjoy having fun, play games, and run around with sticks they used as little toy swords or wands. What could be harmful about that? Perhaps it meant women couldn't have fun. And you liked to have fun which likely is why you so easily fell for Sebastian Sallow.

He made you feel like you could be a child again.

Running into reckless danger without worrying about the consequences the next day. Sneaking around in libraries late at night, kissing in closets so the ghosts didn't catch you, and frolicking in sunny meadows.

Yet it didn't last long.

You learned quickly that books held paths that led to dark corridors and corruption. Hearts could be like closets, holding secrets that were moth eaten. Meadows became burned and bloodied battlefields.

And you grew up.

Though you weren't destroyed. You became stronger. Pain and fire refine those willing to face it. Beautiful and powerful you were now a diamond. But diamonds are no longer tender and soft. They have sharp edges that need to be seen and smoothed. Because tender hearts still hold onto violence. To protect the ones they love, willing to risk the pain of the body to defend, and the pain of leaving their souls soft, kind and vulnerable.

Sebastian wondered why you wouldn't run around with him anymore. Why you stuck to your studies rather than exploring the highlands. Why you no longer wanted to even step outside Hogwarts walls.

"Sebastian I've told you, I'm tired of being a hero. I just want to be myself. I hate being in danger all the time. Don't you also want to live in peace now?"

Now that it was all over?

Sebastian shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah sure I do. You've been through enough."

You sigh relieved, leaning into his shoulder as his warm strong arm wraps around you with the scent of old books, fire, and dark magic.

Dark magic?

"Sebastian you promised." You sigh, annoyed that you had to have this conversation once again.

"Promised what?" He asked, playing the innocent.

Part of you wished to hold onto the past, music playing like an old symphony that narrated the hard times and romance that made everything worth it.

"You know what I mean Sebastian!" You say, fighting the angry tears that spring to your eyes.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist love. It's an old sweater I forgot to wash. I haven't touched anything to do with the dark arts since. Believe me, eh?"

His eyes seemed earnest enough, soft brown peering into yours, down from the freckled face you cherished. The way he held your chin tilting your head up so that you would look at him. See that he meant every word.

But you knew that sweater. It was your favorite, you kept track of every time he wore it. And he had worn it a week ago, when you were up late together in the library studying and he had spilt ink on it.

The stain was now gone.

Excuses were tiny violins in the background easily ignored but ruining the present melody more and more daily. So obvious but still prettily played.

And you still let it pass.

You let him believe that he'd convinced you and tried your best to encourage him in the things he did right. Things he could replace his addiction with.