Good morning, angel,
Merlin's beard I miss our mornings. Forgive me for not taking the time to write down my own words you continue to spark in my heart. I assure you, my love for you burns as hot as ever. Hotter, actually, and with nowhere to direct that heat. Or, rather, no time to direct it where it belongs. If you understand my meaning. It's –I'm talking about sex. Is that too forward? My mind is so absolutely empty I can't seem to be clever about it, eejit that I am.
Gods. April, I swear to you I'm nearly finished with Spavin's assignment. I can feel it. May need your help for the last bit, though I hate to add more to your plate with Durmstrang arriving.
Perhaps – later – I can show you the extent of my affection? If you hadn't been so peaceful, I might not have stopped myself from waking you in that bloody Slytherin robe last night. You're ridiculous, you know. On that note, I assure you I did have other fantasies about you back in our school days that weren't so laughably vanilla. Maybe I can show you one of those later, too?
I'm needing you.
Meantime, this one made me think of you, of course. I promise you I only ever wish to lift you up. I want a heavenly kind of love with you. Always.
Have a happy day, you bloody gorgeous love of my life,
-S
-----------------
My fingers fumble in my pocket with the note Sebastian left for me, all folded up the way he had done, and having left it tucked into the volume of Henry David Thoreau he's been working through. Thiago and Ominis haven't come down to breakfast yet. Neither has Sharp. The Great Hall is a little depressing when you're one of the first ones here, even in spite of the gorgeous Halloween decor that Ronen has been gradually building in the space with the house elves. But I slept like such shit, I decided to cut my losses and get ready for the day (if a basic-ass ensemble of leather boots, wool skirt, and navy sweater with my hair knotted into a ribbon counts as 'getting ready.')
God, I miss him.
The way Sebastian and I are passing like ships in the night is a strange feeling. For the past ten years, he was like a ghost in my mind and my heart, but now he's a ghost in my space. Our space. What's even more strange is to know he's there with me while I sleep, but I rarely see him before and especially not after. I can't imagine what time he must be waking up.
I see evidence of him. He often leaves behind beard trimmings in the sink from his hasty maintenance of his stubbley beard – if it can be called a 'beard' for how short he keeps it. There are often love notes or poems laying beneath my wand, or tucked in the grille of the stained glass window above the kitchen sink. The other morning I awoke to a vase of freshly picked purple heather on my night stand.
But my hands feel empty, and the soft curve of my lower tummy – the very one that used to make me feel so self-conscious – has begun to feel bare without his arm wrapped around me and his hand resting right there.
Fucking porridge is not my vibe today.
I can't stop thinking about the poem he left for me.
My love must be as free
As is the eagle's wing,
Hovering o'er land and sea
And every thing.
I must not dim my eye
In thy saloon,
I must not leave my sky
And nightly moon.
Be not the–
YOU ARE READING
Return of Sebastian Sallow | 10 Yr After Hogwarts
FanfictionTen 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...
