Under Your Spell (Sebastian POV)

Chapter 3.

Tell me, why are we wasting time
On all your wasted crying
When you should be with me instead?
I know I can treat you better
Better than he can

Everleigh didn't seek me over the weekend. I fantasized about hiding away in the dungeons, but ultimately made myself visible all throughout Sunday and Monday morning in the hallways, the courtyard and the Great Hall. To give her a fair chance of finding me if she wants to stop this from happening.

But she doesn't.

And the realization of what we are going to do settles while I walk towards the Potions classroom.

I'm purposely late, marching inside after everyone is already in and Sharp is ready to start speaking, because I know Everleigh at least needs to see me once. Just in case we cross gazes and she changes her mind.

But she doesn't.

As pale as she looks, she doesn't indicate that she wants out. My attention remains on my cauldron, brewing the Invigoration Draught for the first few minutes of the class, but I steal glances in her direction here and there. She is normally very skilled in Potions, but I can see her hands trembling from here and deep lines of concern in between her eyebrows. I can't tell if she is distracted because of Noel or because of what we are about to do.

An hour later, when the good batches of the potions had been placed in vials for the school storage and everyone is walking out, I use the moment to approach her.

Her hair is tied up in a low braid that falls on her back, and strands have loosen from it, framing her face. Again, she doesn't appear as if she slept and I catch that air of dejection I hate on her, so I immediately jump into character.

"Hi." I force out with a smug expression. "You look like you may vomit."

Everleigh narrows her eyes at me, pursing her lips.

"Is that something that pleases you?"

No, it doesn't.

"You can't blame me for enjoying the sight of you writhing." I coo as I reach for her satchel and take it from her, sliding it over my shoulder. She looks at me, something gleaming in her gaze. "You have a free period, right?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's nice outside. Let's sit in the courtyard."

I respond as I do something that I have never done before, because I think I have been waiting for her: I extend my hand in her direction. Praying, hoping that she takes it. Convincing myself that if she does, she is agreeing wholeheartedly to this. Accepting it. Accepting me.

Out of everyone, she picked me to do this.

Everleigh makes me wait a fucking lifetime before she laces her fingers with mine, and the gesture leaves me a little queasy.

What a fantastic way to start this.

I reel in the dangerous thoughts and focus on the fact that she is holding my hand. And then I guide her out of the classroom.

"I don't know how to do this."

She whispers so low that I can't barely hear her. I glance down at her just in time to see her trip. My hold keeps her steady.

"Clearly." I reply with a tight smirk. She is still too skittish, even if she wants to do this. I don't think the students stopping in the corridor to stare at us and whisper to each other help either. Everleigh's eyes wander around, too caught up in the incessant gossiping. So I do the only thing I can think of to get her attention back to me and away from anything else: I release her hand and pull her against my side, hanging my arm over her shoulder in a protective manner. She has no other option than to grab onto my shirt but she doesn't complain, either.