Return of Sebastian Sallow | 10 Yr After Hogwarts

Chapter 129: Tea Time

This time of year at the castle and around the school's grounds was – is – my favorite. Sharpie would always bemoan in his self-effacing way that he wished Autumn lasted longer during the year – that he'd see more of me that way.

Now, out for a walk on the grounds, with the chilly scent of heather filling my nose and making it run a little like it always does when it gets cold, I can't help but think that he was right. Of course he was. He usually is. It's something I love and hate, and hate to love about him. These past years, when not out of the country on assignment with Thiago or avoiding the burden of Sebastian's absence, I know I could move heaven and earth to get to this place in September, October, or November: to Hogwarts in The Fall.

The clocktower chimes, signaling quarter-to-the hour, and I pick up my pace to get to the faculty room. As if the welcome wagon with the students this morning wasn't enough for Headmaster Nickolai Helvig and his gaggle of cronies, Headmistress Weasley felt it would be a good idea to host a faculty-only shindig in their 'honor.'

More pastries and tea, I imagine. The world's most elegant circle jerk.

I can't help but smile to myself when I stride through the castle, practically skipping to my destination in spite of the simmering trepidation that I've felt ever since Durmstrang's guests began to appear here. After all, Sebastian is 'faculty.' And no matter how many Centaurian moon markings we justify in one another's skin, no matter how many meals we share, no matter how many nights pass snugly in his arms – well, to be fair, they begin with me snugly in his arms until he overheats and/or my Eagle-energy body needs to spread out and we (lovingly) shove one another to opposite sides of the bed until morning snuggles. But no matter how much I experience all of that, I still feel butterflies at the prospect of seeing him. Every time.

The sight of the students makes me smile, too. Everyone knows it's a little unusual for another school's administration to visit, but it's not unheard of, and the students are heavily preoccupied with fretting over their costumes (or lack thereof), fussing about their dates (or lack thereof), and complaining about or singing the praises of various professors they most feel are hindering or facilitating their collective ability to focus on these far more important things this All Hallow's Eve.

I have to admit, I agree with them. This is more important. So much 'life' gets in the way of Real Life. And good gravy – their stolen glances, secret smiles, holding of hands – all of it fills me with sheer delight, absolutely replacing the ambivalent consternation that's been pressing from inside my chest. It feels like a dam releasing. It makes me think of Sebastian during my first year here. How we both wanted one another so badly, but never crossed that line for reasons I still don't entirely understand – the unspoken but mutually acknowledged reality of what we were both going through at that time, I suppose, that would have been made catastrophic if we had added teenage hormones to the equation. Especially our teenage hormones.

"Professor Collins! Is that part of your costume for later?" the voice of first year Johanna Nuttal catches my attention.

"Hmm?"

"Will you dress as some kind of forest nymph?" she asks, innocently, gesturing to the floor. My heart drops.

"Oh! Erm – yeah," I lie, shrugging it off with a laugh, shaking my hands as if they were wet from water. In my mental wandering through cheerful nostalgia I failed to realize how the feelings were drawing out my magic, resulting in a subtle trail of electric, cerulean roots vining from the floor in my wake, and my fingertips casting off soft blue and white cherry blossoms that dissolve into the air.