DISGUISED || SEBASTIAN SALLOW

Chapter 17

______________

I bore my gaze into the box, recognizing my sloppy handwriting from my far away bed. 

The room was slacked wooden, gray, red, and black checkered sheets lazily fitted into the mattress. The bed post was wooden, rough, and the carpeted floors smelled like boy—like him—which I loved.

I was desperately tempted to read our letters. I remembered that I'd sent a lot and that I'd trusted him deeply. Trust. The word felt strange when it rolled off my tongue, as if it didn't belong there yet it felt so damned necessary to say. 

I glanced towards the door. There was a small lock on it and all I would need to do is find the key. The key. 

I couldn't cast Revelio, but I could look around. I closed the bedroom door, pushing a wooden stool in the corner of the room to the door. That would hold it for now. Shutting the blinds, I glanced at the drawled wooden drawer across from the bed. 

I slid open the first drawer, surprised to see it hadn't been cleaned out yet. There were wooden pencils, pens, random sheets of parchments and an abundance of quills all toppled lazily in the back of the cubby. I closed it, maneuvering down to the second drawer. Again, more sheets of paper, but this time, there were a couple jars of black and blue ink. Strange.

I pulled open the last drawer to the left, and I was surprised by what I saw. It was a leather journal, rough and patchy, with the lazy name Sebastian S. scrawled in thick black ink. I picked up the tender book, glancing at the door. It was unlikely anyone would barge in.

I opened the first page, glancing at the title. 

September 14 1888

Merlin, I can't stop thinking about her. Those pretty eyes, those brown curls she tucks behind her fancy earrings. There's something so strange about her, so honest, so sincere. Am I in love? Ominis says it's just a silly crush. We're both third years, but she's astonishingly pretty for a Slytherin. I'll convince Ominis that we're meant to be. Momma says it's possible, and Momma know everything.

I flipped to the next entry.

September 23, 1988

All she cares about is Quidditch! I played a silly prank on her and she wacked me with a broom! Ominis was right. Imelda is mean! I'll probably ask my mom to fail her on our next assignment. That will teach her! 

November 24, 1888

Thanksgiving!!!That pork was awesome, but Father sucks at seasoning the mashed potatoes. Anne and I barfed in the cellar. Hah! That's what they get for spending every damned minute in that wretched library. By the way, Momma, I hope you don't find this book and please please please don't punish me for cursing! It's on paper so technicallyyyyyy it wasn't said.

I stifled a laugh, flipping past some of the entries, endeavored to continue my read.

April 21, 1889

I can't believe it. They're gone. I knew that damned cellar was no good. They poisoned themselves, and thankfully, Anne and I made it out alive. I hate them, absolutely loath them, for being so inconsiderate. How could they die, just, like that? I'm being forced to be moved in with my fucking Uncle Solomon. I hate him! He never leaves any food for us, and we're stuck at his place in Feldcroft. Mother, Father, I'll miss you, but you did this to yourselves. I think I'm gonna take some of the books from the cellar. I'm sorry I feel so numb. 

May 18, 1889

Wow! The Dark Arts are fascinating! I plan to endeavor my studies in these Arts and their perilous consequences. I can't believe Father hid this knowledgeable information from me. If used correctly, I think the world could be changed from this power. Mark my words.

September 3, 1889

Imelda is fucking hot. Damn. Same with Poppy, but I'm not fighting Garreth. Oh, and Adelaide's boobs came in. Smash.

They're not that hot, are they?

July 13, 1890

Dearest Anne! How could they? That damned, damned fool cursed you. I'll get him back. I'll save you, I promise. I can't bare the thought of losing you like I did Father and Mother. Every living second, I swear, I will dedicate myself for your life. You will be saved. Uncle Solomon is a pain, Merlin knows how you'll deal with him over my Fifth year, but you'll manage. You always have.

I'll say, I've never seen Ominis cry. He sobbed, Anne, if only you knew. It was pathetic, but heartwarming, knowing that he cared so much. Yesterday, he seemed a little colder. I think your sickness has taken a toll on him. I believe he'll recover soon, but the spark has left his eyes.

He hates the dark arts. I've tried to convince him over the past few months that they can be used for the greater good but he doesn't believe me. I've decided to find all the information I can to save you. It is my destiny and my duty to save you, Anne. I love you. You'll be back by Sixth Year!

Fifth Year. Our year.

September 18, 1890

I love her. She's awesome. She effortlessly took me out in Defense Against the Dark Arts last week. How? She's a natural, stunningly talented, mind you. And, Merlin, those eyes. They just find me, melt me, paralyze me in such a state of shock that I can't breathe. This is how it feels to fall in love. I can't stop thinking about her, the grace that bestows her gorgeous frame. I'm in love.

With me.

November 26, 1890

Anne. She agreed to help me! I can't even begin to fathom how grateful I am to have found her. There's some strange appeal, and I can't help my desires to be with her, to be by her. I want to touch her and show her that I care. Is it selfish to be so madly in love?

I've seen how Ominis looks at her, Anne. He hasn't looked at anyone like that since you left. 

March 2, 1891

I screwed up. 

April 23, 1891

 I thought we were in love. I thought you loved me. How wrong I was. How blind I was. You and Ominis can't send me there. Please, I'm begging you. You can't do this to me. I love you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kill him. I haven't seen Anne. She's gone. Y/N Y/L, please, you can't send me away. There's so much I haven't done, so many things I didn't say that I should've said.

May 1, 1891

How could you?

September 2, 1891

You're back.

_________________