Return of Sebastian Sallow | 10 Yr After Hogwarts

Chapter 132: Remembering Amit

"We could just...go inside and begin the feast with our Annie, no?" Thiago flirts against my ear through a whispered grin, quiet enough that Headmistress Weasley cannot hear. "And little Penny?"

Oh god, the way his baritone voice buzzes against my skin.

"Would that be so terribly irresponsible and unsupportive of us, meu bem?" His warm breath mingles with the way he steals yet another peck against my neck.

The familiar tinge of strain between whom I ought to show favor to pulls deeply in my gut: Anne and April. But tonight I know Anne is inside, waiting, safe, and no doubt entertained by our house elf friend. Compared to what is at stake for April, the repository, and this school, I must trust my instincts to be here for her. And in my heart of hearts, I know Thiago feels the same, the wretched flirt.

So I turn my head, tipping my jaw downward towards him slightly. How I love being just taller than him. "Really, my darling," I chide in an even softer volume than he had. "Time and place..."

"Being anywhere near you, meu amor, means it is always the time." His voice is practically a purr and, dear god above, is it doing things to my body. "And it is always the place so long as we are together."

I hear Kai clear his throat and he snaps a hoof against the cobblestones, surely for our benefit, calling my attention to the other sounds wafting through the air towards me. A dozen feet approach us – wooden heels and steel toes that crack along the damp cobblestones. Vannevar's hoofs strike the ground, strong and precise in his footing, when he leaves Kai's side to greet his former comrades, maintaining a cold and unreadable facade.

Helvig's smug voice barely has time to sneer "greetings" to our unlikely group of two centaurs and three magicfolk before the Headmistress – whom I so greatly admire for her temperament – politely berates the man in a way I hate to admit would make even my own mother proud.

"How good of you to join us, Headmaster Helvig," her voice is quiet, controlled and technically very cordial. "Per our numerous owl exchanges, and the discussion you and I had in my office this very afternoon, I had thought we agreed to your being accompanied on this tour by no more than three individuals from your group?"

I hear a gruff spurt of laughter from one of Helvig's cohort and even though I'm not near him I can hear Helvig's lips crackle across his teeth into a disingenuous grin when he replies. "And after I thought about that, Headmistress, I decided it would only be right for me to bring as many friends with me as you intend to bring with you. Is that not fair?"

Two more sets of footsteps. One is the jittery scuffle I recognize as Mister Spavin. The other makes himself known with his permanently haughty tone: former Headmaster Black. "Everyone getting along? Heh heh!"

Weasley presses on without hesitation. "We are the hosting school, Headmaster Helvig. It is only customary that we should have more personne–"

The floo flames to my right begin to squeal at such a high pitch I can't help but wonder if my hearing has adopted a canine-like capacity, and the resulting gust of wind and a series of whooshing sounds pushes me back enough that my shoulder meets Kai's chest, prompting me to mumble, "my apologies," to which he kindly mutters back, "think nothing of it, my brother."

My brother. The markings on my chest and upper back tingle, subtly. How is it that I could feel more kinship to a centaur – a beast, by technical classification – than the dreadful kin with whom I share blood? It is one thing to feel a brotherly connection to Anne or Sebastian, my childhood friends. Human beings. What a world it is that I now feel I could call on the help of a centaur at a moment's notice.