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'm completely knackered.
I'm entirely exhausted.
Walking out of Sharp's office, my body spasms occasionally with remnants of the Cruciatus curse that I don't care to try to control. What's a shot of jolting pain, anyway? Especially at the end of a day as ruthless as this. As if the previous volatile days weren't exhausting enough, I can now confirm with certainty that one of the worst ways to spend a morning is sitting for hours in front of the Veil of Death at the Department of Mysteries.
Sitting at my old piano in my quarters, my fingers twitch occasionally with remnants of the rusty musical ability I'm trying to invite backinto the forefront of my mind. Despite having not played in ages, it seems a fitting end to a day as unrelenting as this. I think through one of Aunt Noctua's favorites and begin to plunk out Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata in C-Sharp Minor, Adagio Sostenuto. As the melody unfolds, I'm able to realize how volatile the previous few days have been. Still, I can confirm, most certainly, that a truly depleting way to spend a morning is sitting in front of a massive pensieve of your not-dead-after-all, long-lost best-friend's harrowing memories.
After April and I fell asleep last night I thought I'd have felt peaceful. What better way to tumble into dreaming than wrapped around the most wonderful woman, having shown her the love she deserves? (Or, a fraction of it, anyway.) But the physical destruction my emotions caused and realities of the Minister's expectations weighed heavily on me. At a certain point, late into the morning – somewhere between the riddles of the moonlight shimmering across April's cheekbone and the sanctuary of being tucked beneath her leg slung across my torso, I made up my mind to face facts. Better sooner than later. I hardly slept a wink thereafter.
::Serves you right, dozy prick. You knew this would happen.::
After Thiago and I parted ways for the night, I would have thought I'd have fallen asleep in an instant, given the few hours I had to do so. What better way to sleep than to exhaust yourself, entirely? But the realities for April's affinity for Thiago are so obvious to me now. Before meeting him, her stories of their adventures and dalliances always seemed so boorishly dramatic. But between his laughter, incredible stories and the vulnerable seriousness of his more complicated pieces, I realizeThiago isn't boorish at all. He's tender. Kind. Charming. Passionate. Intentional. He's wonderful. His spark for life is extraordinary. I hardly slept at all.
::Careful, now, Ominis. Cards close to the chest.::
I was surprised by how refreshed I felt after my morning catnap. At least there was that. And the way April looked at me during breakfast – Merlin's beard – I swear I could feel her hands on my skin through the light of her eyes, alone. That was, by far, the best thing about today.
I was surprised by how uncomfortable I felt with Imelda's ludicrous antics at breakfast. But I was heartened by what April had to say about Thiago. At least there was that part about today. The thought of it causes my fingers to fumble on the keyboard – drat! – a stupid mistake. I decide to restart the piece at the beginning, slowly pulsing the haunting, opening arpeggios of the sonata.
