The Call of the Void (Sebastian Sallow x F!MC)

IX: B o y s

For the next twelve days (no, he isn't etching tally lines in his journal), Sloane gives Sebastian the silent treatment. She doesn't ignore him completely—she can't, not when they share so many (seven) classes. But no matter how much he talks at her, all he receives in return are nods, shrugs, and head shakes. Even her expression reverts to the melancholy one she arrived at Hogwarts with, grey eyes shimmering with not sadness, but disappointment.

Compared to the long-winded lecture he received from Ominis, this is worse. Sharing the Undercroft with Sloane was impulsive, but it was the only place he could think to take her, where no students or ghosts would eavesdrop on their conversation. While he's tried to distract himself with homework and other studies, Sebastian can't stop thinking of what Sloane told him about the danger she's in.

Ancient magic—at least that explains why her spells feel so...different, or why the power radiates from her so strongly it burns—literally. He didn't lie when he called her powerful, but from what he's witnessed, she isn't in control. She'll be an easy target for Rookwood and Ranrok if she doesn't learn how to use it, especially if she continues leaving the castle grounds with only one of her housemates as a companion. Not that he thinks Poppy or Natty are ill-equipped, he just thinks—knows—he'd do a better job at keeping Sloane safe.

Her icy demeanor tells him he won't be invited on an adventure anytime soon.

It isn't like Sebastian doesn't apologize—he does—several times, catching Sloane in the hall, whispering to her while Professor Hecat is in the middle of a lecture...hells, he even sends a few letters, and only refrains from sending more when he overhears the mayhem his owl caused in the Hufflepuff common room after scooping up Arthur Plummly's cat.

Damnit, Ophelia.

The worry morphs into frustration, confused by the emotions swirling in his gut. Sebastian's only known Sloane for such a short amount of time, but genuine friendship is hard to come by, and he can't just ignore the connection they have—or at least, the connection he thinks they have. Call it overdramatic, but there's some kind of sixth sense he gets when she's not around, like a stomach ache that can't be cured by a stale piece of bread.

On day thirteen, Sebastian switches tactics. It's a Wednesday, and his first class of the day is Potions, one he shares with Sloane. When he enters the room he easily spots her at their workstation, reading with her back turned while she waits for everyone to arrive.

"Move it, Sallow," Imelda grumbles, bumping against his shoulder as she enters the classroom.

Sloane perks up, just barely, noticeable enough to indicate she knows he is there. He approaches slowly, watching as her shoulders tense the closer he gets. However, instead of saying hello or asking about her morning, he simply places his belongings down and sits, opening his textbook so he's not tempted to look at her. He can see her shifting out the corner of his eye, fingers fiddling with the pages of her book, but never turning one over.

The silence doesn't last.

It isn't Sebastian or Sloane that speaks first, it's—

"Hiya, Siobhan," Garreth cheerfully greets as he arrives at the workstation, just as Professor Sharp is about to mark the redhead absent. He exhales as if he just ran around the castle twice, noisily pulling his supplies from the satchel hanging off his shoulder. "You alright, Sebastian?"

"Ahem!"

Garreth grins and quiets his movements as Professor Sharp informs the class of their assignment that day: invigoration draughts. Students are allowed to work together, but each must produce individual brews for grading. With a wave of his wand, he unlocks the storage room and settles back into his seat at the front of the room.