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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Thiago's ability to adapt to new circumstances is extraordinary to me. After Professor Sharp made his discovery or, rather, presented the broad strokes of his working theory to Sebastian, April, Thiago, and I in the Undercroft, Thiago made quick work of dreaming up a scheme to gather us all together – and then some – for a dinner wherein we could finally attempt to begin to piece together the tiny threads of relevance between April's magic, Sebastian's experiences, and the mysterious impending arrival of Headmaster Helvig and his colleagues from Durmstrang. He is positively convinced there's a connection.
Within a matter of hours, Thiago has prepared a menu with Deek, planned an effective layout for entertaining everyone in the greenhouse, and has sent owls to Headmistress Weasley, Professor Ronan (who is the only one who cannot attend), and – much to my surprise – Anne, and Kai. When I accused him of meddling with the addition of the last two debatably-pertinent invites, he insisted their presence was most necessary and said, with great flair, that 'the great puzzle affects us all, meu bem!' – at which point he burst with an unabashed laughter and acquiesced that he was sick of repeating things to multiple sources and couldn't resist an opportunity to 'give things a little shove' where needed.
He is shameless. And endearing. And it's terrifying to one with a disposition such as mine that is quite adept at, and more than comfortable with, the subtle, life-long art of avoidance.
Thiago laughed unabashedly at that, too.
And so it is that I find myself standing in the greenhouse, allowing my wand to assist me in mapping out the space, such that I can execute Thiago's grand vision for our evening of guests. An open layout, a large, round table, room for a grill and a 'whimsical sense of color and light,' were my directives. He waved me off when I reminded him my understanding of those things is likely quite different from his own. Said he would trust no one else with the task, despite April being the one with the penchant for decor.
'The elegance of your living quarters betray you, my prince.' His words ring in my ears and his much-too-effusive nickname for me...well, it all makes me smile.
Working with my wand and the power of the room of requirement's magic, I am able to vanish the existing patio furniture and table and chairs, at which Thiago and I have spent many late nights. Indeed, I've grown quite fond of this open breezeway between our respective living areas. It is open and airy, like he is, and provides us a 'neutral zone' of sorts where my unattenuated nerves don't strain quite so urgently as though a wild horse, reeling at the gate of a race, waiting for the starting bell of any attempt from Thiago at physical affection to then suddenly burst forth at break-neck speed. No, in the greenhouse, my heart only beats twice as fast, and mere centimetres from my rib cage as opposed to the quadruple-pace and metres-long beats that I have felt when sitting upon the sofa in his quarters, or mine, or when my back has, each night since our first date, been tucked against his warm chest whilst sleeping.
But after that first sleep together, and admitting to myself that I've never rested more soundly, the excruciating discomfort of my reckless nerves is something I am willing to endure precisely once per evening for the solace of repose next to my...well, next to Thiago. The thought makes me smile even more widely and I allow the grin to take hold of my face because, frankly, I like it. I like the reason I'm smiling. I like Thiago Braga very, very much.
