You Cannot Put a Fire Out // Sebastian Sallow [Book Three]

Chapter One: A Proper Hogwarts Welcome

1st September, 1915

The first day of classes was always interminably long, nigh on impossible to survive without some liquid courage. Grabbing the flask from his robe pocket, Sebastian twisted off the cap, took a long swig of firewhisky, then sighed.

And to think, he would even have a new student in this class for the first time, come to think of it, possibly ever. He usually looked forward to the class of seventh-years since he knew what to expect: their names were already firmly ingrained in his head, they were fully committed to Potions as a subject having passed their OWLs with flying colors, and their foibles and quirks were second nature by now.

But this year the faculty lounge had been abuzz with rumors of a seventh-year transfer from Beauxbatons, and an apparent Potions prodigy to boot.

A Mr. Jack Mason.

Sebastian chuckled quietly to himself, adjusting his glasses on the rim of his nose. He supposed similar discussions must have occurred upon his husband's rather late arrival at Hogwarts in his fifth year, although the circumstances had been more unusual.

Speaking of Damien, Sebastian wondered whether he'd managed to convince his business partner, Albie, to reduce the price of the latest shipment of brooms delivered to the shop from Germany. Damien had been up all night tossing and turning in anticipation of the conversation. At one point he had even accidentally walloped Sebastian with his restless legs, waking him rather abruptly from a deep slumber. Sebastian had not been able to fall back to sleep after that, and since Damien seemed to be having trouble getting rest as well, they had, well, made the most of it.

Sebastian smiled as his lower extremities warmed in reminiscence. It had been quite a while since he'd received such a delightful morning wake-up. Nearly twenty years of marriage would do that, he supposed. Not that their relationship was in trouble, just... it was different now.

Instead of the fiery passion that once consumed him at the mere thought of Damien, it was now a gentle, burning ember burrowed into the depths of himself. Always there, always warming him from the inside out, never fading. His candle in the dark. His guiding light.

Sebastian rubbed his stubbled chin and shuffled some parchment on his desk. His pocket watch, the one Damien gifted him on his twenty-first birthday, lay on the desk beside him. He glanced at it briefly. His students should be arriving shortly.

He had to admit he was curious how the new student would fare in his class. Just because he was a prodigy at Beauxbatons didn't guarantee that he'd be one at Hogwarts.

Sebastian missed the sorting ceremony the previous night; their elderly cat, Tabitha, who was positively ancient, had fallen ill, and Damien had to work late. Consequently, Sebastian stayed home to keep a careful eye on her and hadn't caught a glimpse of the new student.

During lunch, Albus, one of his former students and the new Transfiguration professor following Matilda's retirement last year, casually mentioned to Sebastian in passing that the new student was rather quiet. He looked as if he was going to say something else, but had been interrupted by Headmaster Black. In typical fashion, Sebastian bolted the moment Black made his appearance. Neither man had ever been fond of the other. That had not changed with time.

Sebastian rose from his desk, gathering everything necessary for class: his pocket watch secured snugly on his belt loop and his wand stowed in the arm holster gifted to him by Ominis years ago, which matched Ominis's own. With a click, he closed his office door behind him, only to be met by two Gryffindors: Mr. Weasley, one of Garreth's boisterous nephews, and Mr. Bones.

"Good afternoon, boys," Sebastian offered, continuing on his way to the front of the classroom.

"Professor," they both said in unison. The sound of shuffling feet filled the air, mingling with the soft thud of textbooks being dropped on Potion stations.