DISGUISED || SEBASTIAN SALLOW

Chapter 4

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I took a seat at the Slytherin table. Imelda took a seat beside me, her makeup heavier than usual. Across from us sat Marguerite and Nerida, Ominis and a few other boys next to them.

"What did you and Luke really do?" Imelda cooed into my ear. Of course; she only sat next to me for the scoop. I straightened my posture, bewildered my roommates thought so lowly of me. 

"Trust me, no scandals occurred between me and the Muggle," I scowled. Composing myself, hiding behind a wall of solitude and aggression, and acting careless was a coping mechanism. 

A form of compensation; that's the word.

"Hmph. I thought you'd moved on from Sallow."

"Pardon me?"

"It was obvious," Imelda's voice lowered as she eyes me. She furrowed her brow, as if flashing her caterpillars meant anything to me. "Word spreads, you know. Everybody thought you and Sallow had some sort of—special connection. I found it funny he just up and left, honest. Would not be surprised if Miss Y/L had something to do with it." 

Imelda always had a way of reading my mind. Maybe she wasn't even reading it; she just knew how to get what she wanted.

"Whatever." Shrugging off the 'Incompetent Imelda', I went to dish for my platter. A piece of toast. Poached egg. Nothing special.

My heart faltered as a body plopped to my right.

Sat next to me was Luke Smithington. His blonde hair was frizzy, curls flopped down his forehead in dreer. His smoldering eyes were sunken; eye bags were blue, cheeks were pale. He must've had a rough sleep. I could've swore he seemed almost larger  today. It was almost as if he'd bulked up overnight. I got a whiff of woody smell; perhaps his cologne.

 I was not surprised he would sit next to me. I must be the only person he'd talked to yet. Hardly any of the other Slytherins made an attempt to chat with the Muggle. Most Slytherins were prestigious pure-bloods anyways; no doubt they shied away from such arrogance.

I wanted to say hey. I wanted to ask how he'd slept—if he did at all. But, I held my tongue. There was no point. I was still a little agitated he'd walked off on me, even though we'd exchanged apologies. The plan was he'd meet me after Herbology. Why was he even putting in an effort to sit next to me? Maybe he was trying to sit behind Ominis. Perhaps he'd exchanged words with the other Slytherins? Boys seemed to always be more—

"—Y/N! Are you deaf?" Nerida cat-called me, begging for my immediate attention. 

"Hey," beside me, sat Luke, his weary gaze forgivable. "Sorry about earlier. Could you show me where my classes are?"

As if on cue, a loud rattle went off, dismissing the student body to their classes.

Corner of my eye I saw Ominis being guided by Marguerite; the crazy girl still treated him like a child.