Sebastian Sallow Fucking Sucks

Chapter Three

It'd been a week since the Undercroft, and every night drenched me in nightmares. The problem with dreams was that they thought they were mirrors, reflecting every thought and feeling, not realizing they were absurdly warped. Like Sebastian and I locked in the Undercroft, but instead with no snacks as Ominis had threatened, there were too many. We drowned in pumpkin pasties. I pleaded with Sebastian to take my hand, but he kicked off my head to propel himself to the top.

And worse: The two of us dueled in the Great Hall on the Gryffindor table. Rain crashed down around us, slick and cold. The ceiling rumbled, lightning and thunder shaking the hall. I may have accidentally kicked Cressida Blume in the face, but I barely enjoyed it as Sebastian hurled Unforgivables. I caught them in plates and goblets—even a stuffed goose. It wasn't the killing curse that did me in, but an unripened apple right between the eyes.

It was all so peachy, really. Between homework, classes, and my heroic nighttime escapades, the sleep deprivation was slowly eating away at the crumbs of my sanity. I'd be kicked out of Ravenclaw if I didn't get my act together.

Now, as I sat very much in the real world waiting for Potions to start, sleep decided this was the opportune moment to catch up. I felt myself sinking, eyelids fluttering, head dipping to the side.

Potions class melted away.

The walls of the Great Hall piled stone by stone around me as I walked into the Yule Ball. Except it was all wrong. The theme had been celestial, but the Great Hall ached empty and cold like the Forbidden Forest. Students watched from behind trunks and in the trees, music coming from far away enough in the fog that its melody rang off key. Fireflies lit the dancefloor, and witches and wizards swirled in perfect unison, translucent like ghosts.

My dress trudged behind me, and the fabric dug into my throat. I tripped on moonstone, and the music halted. Every head lifted in my direction in perfect unison.

"Her dress," the voices whispered. "Look at her dress."

I tried to look down, but my neck resisted.

"Stop," I hissed, but they wouldn't even blink. "Stop looking at me."

"Why would they do that?" Sebastian waltzed in, slipping his wand into his jacket pocket. "I hate these things." He'd styled his hair back, but stubborn curls still fell in his eyes. I gawked at his dress robes. He looked stupidly handsome in dark emerald. A Slytherin through and through.

"Everyone's staring."

"Well, it's because you clean up well." He squeezed my side.

"What's on my dress?" I whispered.

He grinned. "Dead goblin."

My lace gown bloomed out around me. There was blood. Crimson on my train, streaking on the stone floor out into the halls.

This wasn't right. Hogwarts wasn't supposed to see this side of me. They weren't supposed to know what I did.

A slam of a textbook jolted me awake.

"I should be excused from Potions." Ominis complained from the table over.

"Because you're the Heir of Slytherin?" Imelda huffed, and a few snickers made her smirk.

"Because I'm blind."

I rubbed my eyes, glancing behind me as if there'd be a pool of blood dripping down my stool. But of course there wasn't. Sebastian and I cleaned up after ourselves. It was never that gruesome. Mostly. And those days with him were over. It was the meticulous puzzles of the Keepers and my PG-rated escapades with Poppy and Natty left now. I didn't have to murder dark wizards to stop them, even if it was easier and much more permanent of a problem solver that way.