Sebastian Sallow Fucking Sucks

Chapter Four

I exited my Room of Requirement, brushing crumbs off my vest from the apple pie I'd snatched from the kitchens. It'd been out of the way, but I deserved it with my aching cheek, soot clumps in my hair, and the reek of putrid snail juice. Now, cleaned and patched up, I could slip out to get some real work done. Poppy had warned me of some poacher's camp on the move over the last week, and I finally had a trace on them.

"There you are."

I halted.

Sebastian pushed off the opposite wall, the troll tapestry rustling behind him as Barnabas the Barmy encouraged his trolls to spun in their ill-fitting tutus. One smacked Barmy right in the head with its club. Fitting.

"I've been in there for like two hours," I said. My hand trailed back over the doorknob behind me, and I stopped my room from vanishing.

Something mischievous glimmered in Sebastian's expression. He'd cleaned up as well, sporting a tight Slytherin sweater and slacks, and it made my eye twitch.

"Oh, I know." He trailed closer. My back thudded against the door. "I was dropping off your Potions homework."

We stared at each other, my clearly untrusting face, and his devilish grin. Shit, I was in trouble.

"That's quite thoughtful of yo—" I lunged for the door, diving inside and slamming it when his fist stopped the resounding click.

"Let go," I growled, pushing, but my feet slid under the force.

He laughed, and the door inched further open. "That's quite unthoughtful of you."

"This isn't fair. You're huge." I pushed back harder. Technically speaking, I was the stronger magic wielder, but Sebastian stood nearly a head taller, broad chested, and let's just say I'd seen a sweat-drenched shirt cling to his back before—not that I cared.

He shoved the door open the rest of the way, closing it behind him. The Room of Requirement exit shrunk down and disappeared. Wonderful.

"What's the plan now? Or did you get that far?" I stepped back, fumbling for my wand before realizing it was tucked behind my ear.

He tossed my Potion's homework on a nearby velveteen couch, pausing to take in the massive space. "Merlin, you have gaudy taste. Did you steal all of this?" He stared out at my shelves of knickknacks—polished beast figurines, jars and vials, lockets and funny glasses with too many focuses.

"It's thrifted."

"Thrifted from behind locked doors and chests doesn't count, you know." He picked up a plush bear made of Mongrel fur, the eyes mismatched buttons that sparkled if you scratched its belly. "You would have done well in Slytherin with all the Pureblood debauchery. They love their dusty trinkets."

"I'm Muggleborn."

"And I'm technically a Half-blood." He shrugged. "I just spit in their teacups when they aren't paying attention."

I resisted the urge to laugh. He didn't get to be funny. "Is there a reason you forced your way in here?"

A cauldron popped before returning to a simmer. He took a curious glance at it.

"I was assigned the duty of bringing you to the Infirmary."

"Right, two hours ago. The time has passed."

He worked his jaw as he looked me up and down, that light still in his eyes like a candle burning down too low. "I found something, and I wanted your opinion on it."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What kind of 'something'?"

"The relic. There's something about it—"