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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I feel my awareness gradually come back into my body with the warmth of Sebastian's arms around me and the dewy feeling of his skin against my cheek. I sync the movements of my chest with his, breathing deeply, inadvertently inhaling him and alighting the deep spark of wanting for him that I can never seem to escape that makes me feel so awake. How have I lived so long without these arms that feel so much like a part of me?
Shit. Everyone is in there. Everyone can see...me.
...a familiar sensation descends like a tidal wave. A calming sense of peace. A buoying hopeful energy that makes me feel so much less exposed and raw. The golden, glowing energy that somehow both emanates from and pulls towards Sebastian's chest.
"Thank you," I finally say to him, gripping at his arms with my hands.
"There she is!" he says kindly, leaning away to look into my eyes. His face seems strained, somehow. Apprehensive. Poor Sebastian. I thought I'd have time to consider if I'd ever bring him down here. Tell him about this place. Speak to Ominis, first. It's all gone so wrong.
I jump into crisis management mode, spilling, "I am so sorry, Sebastian – I was going to tell you – but it was so long ago – I haven't been here since graduation –I hadn't thought about – We didn't think anyone would ever – I'm so, so sorry–"
"--hey hey hey, no. No. Nothing to apologize for," he says assuringly, through an impressive wall of emotional defense.
"I really never thought..."
"April, this is..."
It's a fucking lot is what it is.
He stammers, "they – we – should have listened to you. I shouldn't have let them ignore you. I'm...I'm..."
I watch his eyes search for what to say next. I can't imagine what kind of bitter mind wrecking he just endured. How awful to know your friends mourned you as though you were dead. But...we had lost him.
"We had to...find a way to...process" I start a measly explanation, but it's something like the truth.
I can see his eyes still searching for words. I offer, "maybe we got carried away..." He shakes his head slightly, and says, "no, not at all...it's..." He's still lost for words. And I'm not sure if I want to throw him a lifeline for his stammering or perhaps prevent him from saying something I'm not ready to hear, so I joke gently, "I suppose I just wasn't clever enough not to get caught."
All his lines and dimples break into a radiant smile and I'm relieved he understood my reference to his own , brazen advice. But I still can't read the look in his eyes. And I'm not entirely sure what makes him feel inclined to take my head in his hands and kiss my forehead.
As he pulls away, he holds my face gently and looks deep into my eyes, whispering, "You....you are...." I see a tear form in the corner of one of his eyes and I'm straining to read him.
