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 killed a goblin tonight.
He deserved it. He was torturing the thestral. But did he deserve it? He was someone.
And because of me, Sebastian killed someone tonight. Sebastian who's in love with me. Me, a hasty, unwieldy Gryffindor. Charging in without a plan. Clumsy. Headstrong.
And because of who I am – how I am – he killed someone.
I killed someone.
I heard the goblin's bones snap and crunch against the ground with my magic. I liked the way it sounded to hear him break. It sounded like justice.
Filth.
Sebastian killed someone. My Sebastian. Who I love so deeply, I think the very tendons that hold my muscles to my frame must be constructed of that same love. That love which makes every deep surface within me ache at the notion that tonight, I might have just shoved him into a very dark room of his mind that he has tried so hard to refrain from visiting. But I acted so quickly. It got us into trouble.
I killed someone.
Good. Consequences. Oh god, what have I done?
Sebastian killed someone. Fuck.
But I might have died without him. And god, it was sexy. The way he held me. Protected me. It was terrible. It was justice. It was beautiful. He was defending me.
Because he loves me. Sebastian loves me. Sebastian Sallow loves me! I struggle to want to think of anything but him and only him and always him. The way he makes me feel, my god, my god, my god! I can hardly understand it or the effect he has on my magic. Which magic I used to kill someone. Gladly. Powerfully. Easily. Remorselessly.
Fuck's sake, April. Breathe. Think.
I can't. I can't. I can't.
Having climbed up the cliffs that loom behind Feldcroft as high as I possibly can, but still keeping a view of the Sallow residence, I sit as close to the edge of the ledge that I can without fear of falling, feet up, elbows and chin resting on my knees. Watching, watching, watching.
My thoughts sing a round in my mind. A melody that never stops. Like echoes that refuse to dissipate. Thoughts that dovetail so seamlessly into the thoughts that come after or, perhaps, the thoughts that come before. They never slow. They never tire.
But I am tired. I am so tired. I can feel myself going numb. Not in my limbs. Just everywhere else. Every part of me wants to run.
I can't. I can't. I can't.
I have to allow my thoughts to heckle at themselves. Let thoughts of Ominis and how vulnerable he must be feeling hound the ridiculous puppet show of panic that stands front-and-center, demanding every spotlight in my mind. I must think of him and the kind of sister I want to be. I have let thoughts of my beloved Thiago try to distract me from the main event, and remind myself how tender he is, despite the heroic effort he makes to care for everyone else around him. I must think of Thiago, too.
