Ten years after I began at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow is back. And he's Professor Sallow now. He disappeared after the fall of Ranrok and Rookwood, after I lost Professor Fig, and after Ominis and I couldn't keep him from losing himself. But I never...
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How my feet willed me to the Great Hall and how I am arriving fully showered, dressed and ready for a new day, I'll never know. Ever since Sebastian and I parted ways Sunday afternoon, after over 24 straight hours of the mind-fuck-iest mind fuckery of a lifetime, I've been lost in a daze of thoughts.
I make my way up to take my usual seat at the front by Imelda who is bright-eyed and much to peppy for this early in the morning. I can't help but notice that our old Headmaster Black is here, sitting next to Headmistress Weasley. How odd.
"Jingo! Gryffindor! What happened to you?" she says, raising her eyebrows basically up past her hairline.
My stomach drops. "What?!" I ask frantically.
"Ermmm...." she points to her neck and says "either you got attacked this weekend or someone had their way with you." She smirks. "Or both?"
"Shit. I hardly looked in the mirror at all today. Is it bad?" I beg, hoping against hope the answer is 'no.'
"It's not up to me to decide if teeth marks and a distinct bruise is 'bad,' Collins. I would never kink shame." Her smirk is maniacal. I quickly think of the various accessory options I have in my quarters and wave my wand as subtly as I can around my neck where, thankfully, appears a lightweight, neutral wool scarf.
Imelda leans closer, with a disconcerting level of intense eye contact. All she says is, "WHO?"
I can feel my face blush. "Some other time..." is all I can muster as my eyes wander across the faculty tables hoping against hope that—-nooope. He's literally right there. Already here. And most definitely watching this interaction. Staring right at me. Sebastian is holding in a laugh at the corners of his mouth. A laugh very much at my expense and I can't help but hold his gaze for a moment as a subtle smile rises to my lips, too, before sitting down for some breakfast.
I'm surprised by how much heat I feel from that simple interaction
As Imelda begins telling me about some intense quidditch practice she had over the weekend, I find my mind wandering to an even more surprising place...the heat of the flirtatious eye contact reveals the whisper of a thought deep inside...something hidden...I invite it to come to the forefront of my mind...and suddenly I clearly see how a part of me would like to remove this ridiculous scarf. It's only there for everyone else's comfort. Why shouldn't I proudly wear Sebastian's marks upon my neck? Like an inscription. He claimed me. A part of me wants to show off this brand seared into my skin that tells everyone exactly who I belong to...And—
"Anyway, I told her she was stupid as a blowfly to think she'd get me to relinquish the pitch." Imelda says with a wave of her hand.
Phew! Jumping jelly snakes, get it together, April.
The aforementioned heat is now a pulsing fire and I am relieved to distract myself with Imelda's drama, saying, "good for you! I always admire how you stand up for yourself." She smiles, saying "I do, don't I?" and continues her story, quite self-satisfied.
