Return of Sebastian Sallow | 10 Yr After Hogwarts

Chapter 122: Gladrags

Since our evening with the centaur colony, my dreams have allowed me the faintest flashes of color and light. In my mind, I have the general sense of what Thiago said was a pale blue – which he also said was the color of my eyes. It makes me feel like Sunday mornings with Aunt Noctua before I came to Hogwarts.

"Omiomiomiomiomiomi..."

A soft whisper of excitement bounces me awake in both word and action. The mattress beneath me is gently lurching and I can sense that Thiago is on his hands and knees at my side like a puppy might be eager for me to wake and provide his kibbles.

The hot-chocolate voice becomes warmer and fuller when he says, "Omi Omi Omi! My prince, it is time to wake up and to go into town! Today is the day!"

"Oh that's rich, dear," I quietly croak. "'Time to wake up' says the man who's insisted upon my over-resting for how many days in a row now?"

A deep inhale and stretch fills my lungs with air and an undeniable stench of...

...it can't be.

"Thiago, don't tell me you've brought Rick Astley into our bedroom?"

I can sense the way Thiago tries to hold back his laughter in his throat while he pleads, "but he has been so very clingy since our return from the hospital wing! I could not bear to shoo him from my shoulder! Have a heart, meu coração!"

As if on cue, the fwooper bird gives a little coo and shakes his head rapidly, but being much too close to me, it makes me nearly jump out of my skin.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Rick!"

Thiago bursts into laughter. "Ha ha! I do think he is coming around to liking you, my pink, feathered phenomenon!"

"No. I most certainly am not! I merely tolerate your extremely endearing propensity to befriend every creature. Please remove him from our room, Thiago!" I beg. The idea of the fowl's diseases mucking about the sheets and blankets makes my stomach churn.

As if reading my mind, Thiago sings, "I bathed him yesterday!!!" in a random melody on his way out the door with – I pray to God if there is one – the bird on his shoulder.

Left alone to the morning's warmth that casts a distinct ray across my thighs, I take a moment to collect myself, reaching my hands in fists to either side of me and feeling my shoulder blades spread apart. My upper spine cracks gently in three spots, and the familiar tingling of my shared markings with Thiago alight upon my upper back. I wonder if the others feel their markings tingle, too.

Alright. Focus, Ominis. Today has a plan.

Thiago's teasing voice wafts up to my ears, bright and full of mirth. "I have made you coffee, Ominis! Hee hee!"

Dreadful stuff.

I can't help but laugh. I adore how he becomes so easily amused with himself and his overt antics. It is something on which we relate easily, as I also become easily amused with myself and my observational and well-honed wit.

After spending a moment in the ambient and eucalyptus-scented space that is Thiago's bathroom, I lumber my way to the kitchen where a cup of Earl Grey is pressed into my hands as warmly as a kiss is pressed onto my cheek.

"Thiago..." I sigh, reflexively.

"As I have already told you, my prince," the beautiful amalgam of Brazilian-dipped vowels and consonants rolls through the air towards me. "I will never waste any opportunity I have to adore you. Never again."