Duello D'Amor // Sebastian x Reader Hogwarts Legacy Fanfiction

Chapter 5 - Dissonance

Two days had passed since lunch with our friends, and Sebastian was still home with me as I attempted to find some kind of routine for myself. Part of me was getting tired of it--the lore behind every object I gravitated toward, like the mug in the cabinet or a previously unfamiliar kind of tea--I just wanted to exist without constantly being reminded that something was missing. 

I could see it in the way he looked at me as I moved around the space as if I was some kind of foreign presence he wasn't sure what to do with. And I wasn't quite sure what to do with him, either, since he insisted on occupying all the same spaces as me in the home. 

"When can I return to work?" I asked. I was starting to feel a bit pent up in the house, not having much to distract me from everything besides the numerous books crammed into every available nook and cranny of the space.

"We'll return to work the following Monday," he said. "They wanted to give you time to get situated before throwing you right back into things. And I can't guarantee we'll get to do any field work for a while." 

"What do you mean we?" I asked again. It was odd that he was given all this time off with me. It was weird that everyone was just lumping him and me together in this like he was somehow also suffering from memory loss. I obviously knew this wasn't the case, though, aside from the fact that he'd lost whatever friendship we'd built over the years. But that didn't feel like a good reason to give him more than a week off from work, along with me. 

"We're partners," he informed me. "We're always assigned cases together, so it doesn't make sense for me to return until you're ready." 

"You shouldn't let my inability to work affect yours," I commented, crossing my legs. I picked a random book off the end table by the sofa, something on the effects of bubotuber puss when mixed with different catalysts. It wasn't the most riveting book to read, but it was a technical enough exhibition that helped to take my mind off things. 

"Like I said, we're a duo," he reiterated with a sigh. "It wouldn't make sense for me to work without you because we normally operate as a team."

"But will things even work out the same once I return to work?" 

I didn't want him freaking out over my statements or feeling as if I were freaking out, so I kept my eyes on the book, pretending to be far more interested than I was. I flipped to the next page in the book and was met with a colorized picture of bubotuber puss being added to a bowl of rosemary and mint. For what reasons, I had yet to uncover in my reading. 

"How do you know that we'll work well together anymore? What if we clash horribly, and things are different?" I pushed. 

"I don't think that will be the case."

"That's what you think, but reality is often disappointing," I rebutted. I flipped to the next page in the book, not really reading the words on the page anymore, but still pretending to. 

"You're not disappointing," he grumbles. 

I close the book and shoot him a pointed stare. "I wasn't talking about me." 

"But that's what you were implying, no?" he said, quirking an eyebrow at me. "You're probably overthinking how I feel when you should just be worried about yourself. And while yes, I am upset about the memory loss and the things you've forgotten between us, no one gets to be as upset about it as you." 

I stood up from the couch and crossed the room toward my room. Being in the same room as him was suffocating me. Every time I caught him looking at me, it was like I'd grown two heads or something, and I hated it. I hated that everyone knew more about me than I did. I hated every bit of it. 

"I'm fine," I tell him. "I'm sorry that your friend isn't here, I really am, but I need you to stop looking at me like I'm a ghost!" 

He stood up to follow me, but with a wave of my hand, he was sent backward into the armchair. It took him a second to realize what I'd done, and he scoffed when he looked back up at me. 

"I'm trying really hard not to treat you differently," he called as I made my way down the hall. "I'm trying really hard to let things go back to normal, all while not freaking you out!"

I paused with a hand on my door, listening to his words. 

"And I'm sorry that this is hard for you. It's hard on me, too, and I'm trying really hard not to let that overcome any progress you might be making." 

After waiting a moment longer, I realized he was finished speaking, so I disappeared into my room. The minute the door closed behind me, I clutched the back of my neck as I tried to suck in a breath of air. 

I wished for some photos- some journals, or anything- that might teach me about who I was. Sebastian was walking on eggshells around me, trying hard not to 'damage my progress' and whatnot, but all I wanted was for things to go back to normal, whatever that was. 

Everything I knew about myself was wrong, and everything about my life was different than it was five years ago. Not a thing felt familiar to me, so there was no safe space for me to return to when I started to feel overwhelmed. I wasn't sure what to do, as I panicked by myself in my room. 

Going through the drawers at the desk, I saw some fresh stationery but nothing else; there wasn't a single hint as to who this y/n person was, which everyone except me knew. 

The room itself was strange. It felt too clean and impersonal compared to the rest of the house. If I didn't know any better, and I really didn't, I would say it resembled something more like a guest room than an actual inhabited bedroom. 

Sebastian said it was mine, so it had to be, right? 

There wasn't another room in the house. There was the Master bedroom at the end of the hall--the room he took up; the other rooms in the hall were my room, the bathroom, and a small linen closet. In the middle of the house was the kitchen, small dining room, and living room, and then there was a skinny hallway that led to the study, which was arranged more to resemble another sitting room around where the fireplace resided against the back wall. It was a small home full of things that made it look well-loved and lived in--all except for the room he called mine. I didn't understand it. 

Something wasn't adding up, but I couldn't figure out what it was. 

I knew I'd kept journals two years ago, and it was hard to believe I kicked the habit. But there were no journals to be found. Maybe they were hiding somewhere else in the house, but I didn't want to be caught snooping around my own home by Sebastian for fear that he might tell me not to. 

He was hiding something--this I knew. He'd told me so. And I was starting to think that all these missing pieces and mismatched facts were part of whatever his lie was.