Under Your Scars || Sebastian Sallow x MC

Chapter 38 - Business as Usual

Juliette POV

Corporeal Patronus Examinations – This Week

I scribbled feverishly on the chalkboard, my back to the class of sixth-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. I had somehow arrived to Monday classes before Professor Sallow, and I was grateful for it. I would positively die of embarrassment if I had to walk into a room and have his big brown eyes on me while I walked up the aisle.

He would probably look at me like I was insane. Perhaps he's skipping classes today to escape my maniacal wrath. 

I had overreacted, completely lost control. I should never have screamed at him. Or... at least I could have screamed at him in English and give him a proper chance to defend himself. Not that I was in any mood to hear whatever pitiful excuse he had for tripping and falling face-first into my Pensieve in naught but his trousers. Then he had the audacity  to kneel before me in naught but his trousers, fueling my hate-fire but for completely different reasons. 

Sleeping on my feelings, even if it was only for a few hours, seemed to both improve and worsen my mood at the same time. I woke up angrier with myself than I was with Sebastian. I cursed myself for leaving my memories so accessible to him. I should have protected them better, or perhaps I should have showed him sooner. How much longer did I expect to hide it from him, anyhow? Either way, it was my fault.

As a garnish to my regrets, I also woke up incredibly anxious and unsettled. It was a dread so deep I felt as if I would never feel peace again.

I knew which memory he had seen, but it was not knowing what else he saw that was eating me alive. My outburst of Parisian rage prevented me from obtaining any information about what it was that he saw. Did he read my notes? See my drawings? Or worse, did he see my notes and drawings of Rosalie's nightmares? Did he chuckle at my obsessive attempts to make sense of my nightmares with Arithmancy and Divination? 

He must think I'm positively deranged.

The class was nearly full with no sign of Sebastian, so I took it upon myself to drag out the heavy wooden chest containing our pseudo-dementor. I had my back to the class when excited whispers and giggles peaked my interest,

"Oh Merlin, he's even hotter when he's all disheveled."

I spun around to find a mess of a professor pacing up the aisle toward me.

Disheveled was putting it lightly.

His brown hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction as if he had just rolled out of bed. His stubble and the circles under his eyes darkened his face more than ever. He did not even wear a tie, just a white button down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of trousers that were more wrinkled than Professor Binns. 

I did this to him. My memory did this to him.

At least he wore his glasses, providing a much-needed touch of professionalism.

A trio of female students in the front row giggled and whispered to each other as he passed them. Rather, the two on the ends, Miss O'Brien and Miss Padgett, were beside themselves. The student in the middle, a rather brilliant Gryffindor I knew as Miss Lysandra Yaxley, rolled her eyes.

As off-putting as it was, I was inclined to agree with her companions. He may have looked like rubbish, but he was hot rubbish.

A confusing warmth radiated through my torso when he rushed to meet me at the front of the room, taking the opposite handle on the trunk to help me carry it the rest of the way. As we lowered it to the ground, he met my gaze and offered a polite nod and crooked smile.