Sinner // Sebastian Sallow

EIGHTEEN

Spending your Christmas with Sebastian Sallow is probably one of the worst ideas you've ever had.

But here you are; sitting on the hearth in front of a crackling fire in a bleak house. It's an unloved room, from the absence of the entire Sallow family, yet the atmosphere is still warm enough to resemble some sort of home.

You've not been without your uniform robes before in Sebastian's presence; wearing a simple shirt and a coat without your yellow trademark feels wrong. However, the boy working away in the little kitchen wearing not a hint of green on his trousers or shirt doesn't seem to care. The bread dough he's kneading with his hands takes all of his focus for the time being, brow furrowed and tongue slightly poking out between his lips.

Domestic Sebastian Sallow isn't a memory you're going to forget for a while, and so far you've only had half a day of it. You can't imagine what he'll be like after two weeks.

You slowly draw yourself back to the crackling fire, tucking your legs underneath yourself on the floor, "Are you sure you don't want any help with that?"

"No, you're a house guest, after all. Would be wrong of me,"

Fingers trailing over the worn down red rug, you point out, "I am staying with you for more than a few days. I have to help you at some point."

The wooden surface underneath the dough ceases rattling all of a sudden, "You can help me later on with other things, but I want to do this."

Your brain works slowly, listening in to when the wood begins to shake again underneath the pressure of his hands, "I didn't know you enjoyed making bread."

There's a huffed laugh in response, "There are a few things you don't know about me."

Sebastian finishes his sentence with your name, which is just enough to get your head turned back to face him. There's no mallace in his tone, nothing to indicate he holds your unknowingness against you, and a soft smile across his face tells you all you need to know.

"Why don't you just use magic?" you ask, choosing to let go of the weird sensation in your stomach.

"That's too easy," Sebastian explains. "And I enjoy the muggle way of making bread anyway. It's...therapeutic."

That's fair, you think to yourself, settling for his answer and the flames licking the sides of the fireplace, "Do you like any other cooking?"

"I do, I find it takes my mind off things."

You'd quite like to probe into what it takes his mind away from, but decide against it. You're a guest here, after all, you can't make it awkward.

"Ah," he catches your attention again. "There's something you can help me with now. See that door on the front of the stove?"

You jump up onto your feet and nod, "Yes, want me to open it?"

"Please," he says, shifting the dough and forming it into a shape on a tray.

Deciding against using your wand, you pad over to the stove and hold the door open. The entire ordeal is too domestic for you to bear, so you keep your eyes trained to a particularly interesting corner of the ceiling in an attempt to divert your thoughts. You refuse to look at him until a hand ghosts over yours, and you find yourself letting go of the door.

He spares you a warm smile of gratitude, "There's just one part I don't use muggle ways of doing things."

"What's that?" you ask, and he answers your question by simply taking his wand into his hand and casting a spell over one particar stove door. The fire inside roars to life.

"It's just so much faster," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't care for standing here and attempting to start a fire."

It's fair enough, and you don't question Sebastian further.

"I need to set up the guest bedroom properly," he continues, muttering a cleaning charm under his breath to remove the dough and flour remnants on his fingers. "It's not been furnished properly, and the mattress needs to go down. Are you sure you don't mind a mattress on the floor?"

You smile, an attempt to be as reassuring as possible, "Yes, I'll be fine. Having a whole room is more than enough. Can't I help you?"

"You can if you want," he nods his head once, tucking his wand away and taking a few steps towards the bedroom door. "Maybe that'll make you feel more at home."

You don't have a home, but you're sure you can make one room a little more to your taste.

And you definitely have the blank canvas to do so. As soon as you step into the room, you're met by dust. A mattress sits propped up against the wall, and a lone bedside cabinet is placed on the other side. There's no sign of previous life here, so barren and dead.

Sebastian taps his wand, and the oil lamp on the table comes to life, "It really isn't all that much, but I hope it'll do."

"It's absolutely fine," you smile, digging out your own wand and looking back over your shoulder. Your eyes fix on to your trunk by the front door, "I'm not fussy anyway."

You recall your nights training with Ominis, and use the experience to your advantage. Lifting the trunk up into the air without even speaking the words Wingardium Leviosa, you pull it towards you and through the bedroom doorframe.

"Where did you learn that?" Sebastian puts a hand on his hips, attention more focused on your belongings than you.

"Ominis and I have been practicing wordless magic," you explain, setting the trunk down on the floor. You're surprised you managed to demonstrate it without an issue — especially after the last couple of attempts. "It's slow progress, but we're learning."

"I didn't know you spent so much time with Ominis." he muses, eyebrows furrowing the more he seems to dwell on it.

You pay it no mind, and kneel down on the floor to get to your belongings, "I don't really. It's maybe one evening a week at best."

He watches you as you unpack, brow furrowing every time you set something new on the floor. You're not quite sure what to do with him, with the strange unreadable look on his face.

"I'll put the mattress down," Sebastian mutters; more to himself than to you.