Return of Sebastian Sallow | 10 Yr After Hogwarts

Chapter 5: Why are We Whispering?

"It's a little on the early side to be seeing you here," Sirona observes.

"True, true," I smile and take another long, warm gulp of coffee before offering, "I was awoken by a very eager House Elf and an early-morning letter delivery."

"Oh? Another impromptu tryst with Thiago? Where are you meeting him this time?"

"Sirona!" I act aghast, as if that wasn't absolutely an option. Though rare, Thiago has swept me away from time to time for all sorts of adventures. They were certainly passionate at one time, but we regularly travel together for assignments without any...anyhting. But today the mere suggestion of it strikes an odd cord in me. It feels unfaithful, somehow.

"No! Thank you SO very much," I chide.

Sirona laughs and teases, "you know it's only because I'm jealous."

Over the years, Thiago has visited me Hogsmeade countless times and he and Sirona have become friends in their own right. Though Sirona makes friends with everyone, Thiago's good nature is magnetic and he fawns over her as though she were a queen. She loves it, and he knows it. I do believe he's the only person I know who can make Sirona openly blush. I can't help but admit they'd make a strangely perfect pair.

"The letter was, in fact, from our very own Professor Matilda Weasley at Hogwarts." 

Sirona's eyebrows raise. We both enjoy taking little jabs at the expense of Professor Weasley's formality.

"She signed it, and I quote, 'Your Friend.'"

"'Your friend?'"

I nod emphatically, as wide-eyed as Sirona.

"You'd almost think she was finally considering you...an equal. How very intriguing."

"Right? Me n' Matilda. Doing friend stuff." I can hardly finish the ludicrous sentence without laughing and Sirona joins right in. She gets it. She knows that I'll never be able to address my former teacher, mentor, and mother figure as "Matilda." Professor Weasley knows it, too. On the other hand, I haven't been her student since I graduated from Hogwarts 7 years ago and, well, she isn't my mother. We work together as colleagues regularly, due to the time I spend in the Forbidden Forest adjacent to Hogwarts' grounds.

I'm the Liaison and Keeper of Centaur Relations for the Ministry. In other words, I'm one of the few witches or wizards who's not a total asshole to them so they trust me and I keep tabs on their goings-on -- as if it's any of our business. It's the best part of my job, quite frankly. And, to my credit, it is a bit more complicated than that. I love the forest as if it were a part of my own soul and, suffice it to say, I've put in the time needed to assimilate with the centaurs. Plus, I spend a lot of my spare time helping out Professor Howin with Hogwarts' beasts, especially where rehabilitation is concerned, so my paths cross with Professor Weasley regularly. 

My friend, Professor Weasley.

"As you can imagine," I explain, "Penny wouldn't let me sleep in after reading it. So here I am!"

"That makes sense," Sirona nods.

"But the real news is..." I lean across the bar, drawing Sirona's ear in closely, "...I had a fantastic dream."

Sirona balks playfully. "I'm disappointed! That was a good build up."

"Don't you want to know what it was about?" I beg.

"I hate to disappoint you, darling, but no-one cares about other people's dreams. It's boring!"

I'm pleading, now. "This one wasn't boring. I woke up sweating!"

"Fighting off a horde of trolls, were you?"

"No! Sirona! It was one of those dreams. Like...like from a pensieve, almost. It felt real. I woke up tired."

"Oh?"

"I know. And it was....steamy."

"Steamy?"

"Steamy. Really...Really, really. Really steamy."

I smile. She looks at me intently and I nod.

"Oh."

I nod again.

"Thiago?"

I shake my head and say quietly, "Sebastian."

Genuinely surprised and even more quietly she asks, "Sallow?"

"Yeah."

There's a pause as Sirona takes it in. This goes deeper than a random, spicy dream. She knows every detail of my life, let alone every detail of my "spicy" life. Ten years ago, she was the first one who was privy to my torment. She knows how Sebastian and I were inseparable, bound by our sense of duty and curiosity. How we did everything together, confided in one another, and yet never quite crossed whatever invisible line that existed, containing our friendship. How I would have sprinted across that line if I had known he would disappear after our fifth year.

She knows how deeply we cared for each other, and how I understood the darkness in him on a tangible level that made me a little afraid. She knows about the Unforgivable Curses. She's the only one I told because I knew she'd understand how nothing in life is black-or-white. 

She knows that I can't help but write to him every so often to cope with the pain of his absence.  I write maybe 2-3 times on a good year -- and Sirona knows that just over half of my letters have returned to me. How I write as though he never left. As if we were still friends. Because I can't cope with the reality that he barely even said goodbye to me after everything we'd been through. How I keep my confusion, anger, and resentment to myself. Keep my heartbreak to myself. I only share that with Sirona.

An idea dawns on her face, she whispers, "Did he write you back?"

"No. And my last letter was months ago - six or eight, even. Made it, though. I think." I'm whispering, too. 

"How strange." She pauses to think.

"I know." A beat. 

"Maybe it's just a dream?"

"Maybe," I acquiesce. "...Why are we whispering?"

Sirona's face breaks from serious to a wide grin and in a more normal speaking volume she says, "I don't know! Doesn't it seem like something we should be whispering about?"

I let out a small laugh, "Yeah, that feels right!" She's not wrong. Musn't make a peep, is what Sebastian told me, after all. Or, perhaps, commanded of me. Jumping jelly snakes, what a dream. A familiar shiver zips down my spine. It feels like it begins from somewhere in space above my head,  and pierces down through my toes and into the floor. Distract, distract, distract.

I quickly finish the last sip of my hot morning happy brew. "Welp! I had better go and see Matilda, don't you think?" I joke as I slide my mug from me. "As always, thank you for this. I love you, Rona."

"Always, my dear. Love you too. Good luck today with...whatever it is!" 

Sirona shoos me out the door of the Three Broomsticks. The morning light has become more intense since I entered and I'm seeing spots as my eyes adjust from the dim light of the Inn to the blasting sun. The chill of the morning is dampening and I feel refreshed and alive. I feel relieved to have shared with Sirona, lighter. I give my full body a quick shake to toss of the bizarre energy that has been clinging to me since I awoke. Enough of all that.

With a skip in my step, I start down the cobblestone pathway towards Hogsmeade's front entrance. Time to see what urgent news my friend Matilda has to share.