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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Sebastian's eyes are intent on mine and – of course – I nod my acceptance of his invitation.
'Anything for you,' my gut instinctively wants to tell him, but I keep myself quiet in the presence of our friends and the students. Thiago observes the exchange quite intuitively as he offers, without missing a beat, "shall I show our students how it is we prepare our bodies, minds and hearts for capoeira in Brazil? Similar to your jujutsu, I believe?"
"Yes, thank you Professor Braga," Sebastian says straightforwardly, "we'll only be a few minutes." He looks towards me as he says, cordially, "Professor," and nods his head towards his office. He turns on his heels, shoves one of his hands in his pockets and walks with long strides and his head hung low towards the front of the classroom. It takes everything in me not to reach for his other hand as I follow him past the tables and benches, up the stairs to his office. But not in front of the students.
His body language is so different from this morning at the Great Hall. He was so bright and playful. Flirtatious. I wonder what's happened.
"Thank you. I needed to see you," he says urgently before correcting himself and saying more softly, 'no. I wanted to..." His words are a little stilted, "I don't..can't'..need..you..." as I close the door behind us and move towards him. He is pacing a little near the center of the room but I realize my charmed collection of books has followed me like a dutiful shadow. Briefly, I turn around, stacking them on the floor with a wave of my wand.
By the time I return my gaze towards Sebastian, he has closed the space between us. With the same intensity as his gait, he takes my cheeks in each of his hands and looks down at me from above, searching my face wildly with wide eyes. Whatever softened him seconds ago is gone.
His eyes look so tired, but with a slight glimmer of a hopeful light overtop a pressure of intense wanting. Within them I can see his ever-present sadness but his gaze is loving, a little afraid, and very, very fierce. A glint of green, though not entirely present, is shimmering just below the surface of his dark, intense brown irises.
"What's going on?" I ask kindly, bringing my hands up to his chest. Before I can say another word, Sebastian demands with an authoritative, direct quality of voice that is familiar to me from years ago, "you are mine, aren't you?" His eyes grow wider. "Say you're mine." The nature of his request, and the urgency of it, sparks a fire between my legs that makes me wonder what he'd do if I responded coyly. But something tells me now isn't the time and my mind commits to focusing as it races to make sense of him and grapples with how to respond.
