Exile || Sebastian Sallow

7 | Detention

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"My life, it comprises of losses
and wins and fails and falls"
- Lana Del Rey

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7 | Detention

Sebastian's Perspective

As Madam Scribner paced behind her desk with her head low, tongue clucking against her teeth in a disappointed manner, the clock tower chimed in the distance to signal the start of curfew at 10 p.m. She sighed and turned to us, placing her hands on the table, her head shaking.

"Honestly, what would I ever do to the both of you? You're the last pair I ever expected to be in detention." She turned to me, and I merely crossed my arms. "I'm disappointed in you most of all, Mister Sallow. Had you learned nothing from fifth year?"

I simply shrugged, crossing my arms and answering with an impatient silence. I usually had a way out of these things, but no excuse got me out of it this time.

"And you, Miss Darcy." Madam Scribner shook her head. "I'd expected better of you based on your magnificent school record."

Belle looked like she was about to throw up, her eyes wide, hands fiddling with each other. It took everything in me not to snort at her misery, every sunshine ray seeming to be sucked out of her by the second. Though I could tell she was attempting to mask her anxious antics, she was doing a piss-poor job at it.

I'd had my fair share of detentions so this was nothing new, but to her? I knew this was a first.

This should be an interesting night, if we don't end up killing each other first, being in such close proximity.

Belle bit her lip as if to prevent herself from spewing out some nonsense excuse, perhaps some bullshit where she'd say it wasn't her fault (it very much was). Knowing her, she was dying to defend herself. But she seemed to think better of it.

Her eyes narrowed and glared at me like she could read my thoughts. I looked away with a roll of my eyes.

Madam Scribner lectured us a bit more on being on our best behaviour before explaining our detention tasks. There was a whole stack of books upstairs that we had to organize back into their shelves. She said it was better than having us sit in silence for disciplinary punishment.

I was about to rejoice a little bit at the fact I could get this task done with the most insufferable girl beside me if I just use magic, until Madam Scribner snuffed out that little bit of optimism within me.

"Hand over your wands to me. You shan't use magic for this task," she commanded, gesturing with her hands.

Belle gaped. "But Madam Scribner, it'd be so much faster if—"

I complained at the same time, "What? You're joking! With all due respect—"

"Now," Madam Scribner snapped.

I groaned, while Belle frowned, both of us begrudgingly handing over our wands. Her arm, covered under her thick, grey sweater, brushed over mine for a split second. I tensed at the bit of contact, enough that both of us repelled from each other swiftly like we'd just burned each other.