Under Your Scars || Sebastian Sallow x MC

Chapter 53 - A Dance of Dragons*

Juliette POV

We emerged from the floo in the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, Sebastian clearly having brought us to the first place he could think of to escape the madness of the ball. 

We were fortunate to find the corridor deserted, with only the sound of our hurried footsteps and exasperated breaths to fill the silence.

Sebastian immediately bent to my eye level and cupped my face in his hands. His eyes scanned me up and down, as if assessing for damage. Though, he would have to look much deeper than my skin to find it.

"Are you alright, mon coeur?" he asked, still out of breath. "I could see him manhandling you from across the hall, I came as quickly as I could. I am so sorry, love."

He peppered my face in kisses and murmured apologies. Once my rings ceased glowing, he straightened his stance and asked the question I had been dreading...

"Why was he touching you like that? How do you know him?"

I sighed, releasing a breath I did not even realize I was holding. He brushed my trembling lower lip with his thumb as he searched my watery eyes for answers.

"He..." I absentmindedly fidget with my wrists where Renatus once left bruises-which Sebastian would never know about.

"That's him? The man that called you..." now it was Sebastian who was at a loss for words, and I thanked him for not repeating it.

"I told you about Renatus..." I said sheepishly, fidgeting with the sleeve of my gown.

"You did not tell me his name. Or that he looks at least forty years of age," Sebastian noted bitterly, his upper lip curling up in disgust. "Fuck Jules, no one is ever going to touch you or talk to you like that again, do you understand me?"

All I could do was smile and nod, the lump in my throat stealing any words I could have said.

"Come here, you," he said as he scooped me up bridal style. It was quite a feat, considering the sheer volume of my skirt. "I hope you had your fill of the ball, because we are turning in for the night."

I nodded again and nuzzled into his shoulder, which quickly became wet with tears.

I was not sad, or particularly elated, I was simply overcome and could do nothing but let it out. It seemed instead of my magic seeping out, my body resorted to tears.

Sebastian shushed and cooed reassurances into my ear as he carried me up the short flight of stairs. I had the mind to tell him he was going the wrong way if he was trying to get to one of our rooms. That was, until he turned and carried me into his classroom. Our classroom.

He set me on the nearest desk and knelt in front of me, fighting with the layers of my skirt so he could gain access to my heels. One at a time, he helps me kick them off as I regain control of my breathing.

"Since when do you speak French?" I finally had the wherewithal to ask him the question burning at the back of my mind.

« Tu m'as appris, mon amour. Tu ne te souviens pas? » he teased, asking if I remembered teaching him. I bit my lip at his playful, lopsided smile as the French poured from his lips with a twinge of his Scottish accent.

"Exactly my point, Sébastien. I taught you a few greetings, perhaps enough to survive," I folded my arms over my chest. "And there you were at the ball speaking flawless French with a native speaker, and I sure as hell did not teach you that well."

He sighed and started to massage my feet, which I had not realized were aching. His eyes grew distant, lost in memory.

"I would venture to say I have been nearly fluent for a few years, now. When I lived with you, I would practice with your father while you were out on errands," he eyed me pointedly at his mention of my deceit. "I was a bit out of practice but brushed up when you got back to Hogwarts."