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A part of her was disgusted by her own feelings. By all means, Sebastian had done terrible, unforgivable, unlovable things. But even those actions weren’t enough to waver her heart.
The malicious part of her mind tells herself she deserves him as he was; for she has also done terrible, unforgivable, unlovable things. Even if the idealistic part of her reminds her how they both regretted it immediately, it was still the choice they made.
A bitter part of her wanted to blame Sebastian for her choices, acting as though it was his fault she dipped into the darkness. She didn’t know that he also blamed himself.
Though eventually, the pragmatic part of her accepted that her actions were her own and could not be changed, and that they must move forward. Despite coming to the understanding within herself, she needed space. Space to process what he had done, and what she had done for him.
Artemisia and Ominis spent the last few weeks of school and the summer without Sebastian in it, but she soon found the void his absence left was heavier than the guilt at herself. Maybe it was her fear of losing someone else forever. Or perhaps it was the deep desire of wanting someone to want you near, stemming from the lonely child inside, screaming to be loved. Perhaps it was all of that, mixed with the profound, unbreakable bond created from experiencing the most traumatic event of their lives together that made his absence suffocating.
Despite the storm in her heart at the mention of Sebastian, there was nowhere as calm as in stride beside him.
To Sebastian, the silence from Anne was as precise and scathing as a knife twisting in a wound, and the reticence from Ominis was the vinegar poured in. But he deserved it. He knew he did.
After the adventure with Artemisia, their time apart had been to his heart as a drought is to a field. There was no rain. There was no sun. Only darkness. The crops withered as though the soil was poisoned. Everyday he would pass her in the hall, and the sun would reach the horizon, before she turned away, and it would be dark again. Numb. The ground cracked and thirsty, desperate to be acknowledged.
Then, as summer came, winter hit the field. Burying the withered plants in a shallow grave so that they may be pushed deeper inside, hidden away. There was no moon, no stars, only silence. If regret were physical, it showed in his sunken eyes and cracked lips.
There were nights that Sebastian considered using the Killing Curse one final time. When the tip of his wand pointed at his chest, pushing the fabric into his skin, a dire attempt to feel anything. Though he could never do it. He called himself a coward, but a small part of him held onto the hope that he wouldn’t break the last promise he made to his friends- his family. The only family he had left. He would never use an unforgivable again . His wand fell to the floor each time.
Then summer ended and he left the desolation to rejoin the students in Hogwarts. He sat alone at the great table, not giving Ominis the chance to reject him, he sat himself after and as far away as he could. For the first time since he used that blasted spell, Sebastian’s icy heart finally beat when he made eye contact with his Hufflepuff across the Great Hall. She had already been staring at him when he looked up.
One beat
It was brief, he blinked and she was gone again. He couldn't find her in the crowd after the Sorting Ceremony, so when her owl dropped a small parchment in his lap, his heart beat again.
Two
The note only contained one word in her unmistakably unique handwriting, ‘ Undercroft .’
Three
He headed there immediately, ignoring the greetings in passing from his peers. If they thought he was cold, it's because he was. Once he was out of the crowd, he practically ran. He didn’t know why. He didn’t have any words prepared, he didn’t have a plan of what to say, he only knew that he needed to be in the Undercroft.
Getting to the door, he carefully made sure no one was watching before he entered. He felt as though he was walking underwater, each step meeting an invisible resistance as he descended the stairs to the loud wrought iron gate.
She stood there, fiddling with her wand in her hand as she looked towards the Triptych they had completed so many months ago. What was left of his heart was in his throat, keeping him from speaking. Upon hearing the gate she turned, her hazel eyes locked onto him as he approached.
Four
“You came.”
Five
“Of course, you called.” The words slipped from his mouth, barely a whisper.
His stomach churned at the deja vu, from a much simpler time in their relationship. She harboured a small, melancholic smile at his words, no doubt reminiscing the same memory.
Six Seven Eight Nine
The ice around his heart shattered at her smile, a familiarity he had missed so dearly. The sun had returned and melted the snow. Memories and emotions he had spent the summer burying burst through. His face twisted in agony and turned to the floor at the piercing pain from his chest, causing him to heave.
His heart was beating too fast, faster than it had in months. His breathing became staggered as pressure in his throat and behind his eyes became unbearable.
He gasped as the tears pushed through, streaming down his cheeks and dripping from his nose. He tasted salt mixed with his saliva as he squeezed his eyes closed trying to halt the rush.
He felt arms wrap around him, startling him before he immediately succumbed to the embrace, wrapping his arms around her and clinging on as though she were a lifeline.
With his sun, came the rain. He shuddered into her grasp as the tears wracked through his body. Every memory, every regret, every frustration, every emotion, every ounce of grief he has been avoiding since his parents died, since Anne was cursed, since he used the Cruciatus Curse on Artemisia, since he killed his own uncle, was making its debut.
He was much taller than her, causing him to crane his neck as he rested his head on her shoulder, which was becoming slick from the tears. He felt her hand stroke his back soothingly, though it felt like an impossible task to calm him.
The sobs fatigued his body and slowly lowered him to the floor, the witch coming with him. They kneeled together as he continued to cry, though now Sebastian had moved his arms to have one behind her waist and the other elbow locked around the back of her neck.
It felt like hours had gone by, though he doubted it was truly that long. The tears had stopped but his body still shook and breathing was erratic. He could feel the young witch breathing irregularly against him then forcing herself into a controlled rhythm, and realised he was still holding her captive.
Matching her slow in-and-out breaths, he slowly released her, peeling them apart, and hid his face in shame. As she backed away slowly she kept her hands on his arms, rubbing them from the shoulder to elbow.
He leaned back on his calves in defeat before fully committing to falling against the wall behind him, bringing his knees up and placing his head in his hands. His body was still involuntarily shaking.
“I’m so sorry, Artemisia.” His voice was coarse and muffled, both by his hands and the stuffed nose.
She wordlessly sat beside him, removing her now drenched Hufflepuff cloak and placing the dry portion across him like a blanket. He raised his head slightly to look at her through his hair, which had gotten slick from the tears around his face.
She was staring ahead with no clear emotion displayed on her face, though he could see that she had also been crying during their hug. Her face was thinner than it had been when they last spoke, and the shadows under eyes were nearly as deep as his, dipping down into her -now damp- freckle spattered cheeks.
They sat in silence for a few moments more. As the tears dried and his breathing returned to normal, she quietly handed him a handkerchief as she heard the telltale sound of the nose being plugged, smiling briefly as he tentatively took it.
He wiped it across his face before blowing his nose and taking a large deep breath. It felt as though the fog was gone, and his thoughts felt more coherent than he had in years. The numb that settled over him was much different than the numb he spent his summer in. This one felt more emptying than overpowering.
“Did… did you take away my pain?” He softly asked, placing each word in front of the last like a tiptoe.
She whipped her head around in horror, giving him an appalled look before slowly turning back forward and exhaling a laugh.
“Sebastian-” He missed hearing her say his name, “Have you never cried before?” This time he was the one with a shocked expression as he turned back to face forward. He didn’t know how to answer that. Despite everything, he never allowed himself to cry for it. He translated his emotions into anger and casting spells, not tears. That concept was new to him.
“Not like that.” His words came out dazed, his body still recovering from the exertion and unfamiliar feeling. “You have?”
She turned back towards him, a small dark smile pulling at her lips. “All the time, sometimes it's the only way I can sleep.” He always appreciated her dark humour that matched his own, but he had always been taken aback when it stemmed from her personal experience. Like seeing Thestrals, that was one thing he wished they didn’t have in common.
Despite thinking heavily on her answer, his face showed no emotion or hints that the cogs were turning inside.
“I’m sorry.” Was all he could say. Turning towards her, he repeated himself. “I’m so sorry, for everything.”
She studied his face now fully uncovered from his hands. His eyes and nose were red and puffy, in stark contrast to the dark shadows stretched from below his eyelashes. His cheeks were far thinner than when she had last seen him, and he had a bit of uneven stubble just starting to speckle on his jaw, a new advancement from the summer.
“I know… I am too.” She squeezed his knee briefly before continuing in a whisper, “I missed you.”
He knew the sadness in her eyes was mirrored in his own, and tentatively took her hand into his.
“I missed you, too.”
She squeezed gently and rested her head on his shoulder. He watched her for a moment before gently resting his head atop hers, nuzzling his nose into her hair.
She smelled like Magnolias, wood smoke, and home . A smell he’s been missing for years. Not one specific smell, but the feeling it gives.
The memory of his childhood home with his parents was dreamlike, and truly the last time he could remember being happy. The scent of his mothers perfume or the soap that was used on their clothes and bedding could bring him back to any moment from that time in an instant. To the laughs, the smiles, the warmth, the love. But he hasn’t smelt it in years.
There is something so tender in the way our memories cradle scents as connections through time… though something so dismal in the reality of never being able to smell it again. And having to come to terms with the fact that that's all it will ever be. A memory. Always in the corner of your eye but never able to see it. A feeling you will never be able to feel again.
The Undercroft used to be the closest thing to an accessible homey smell he could remember, but not anymore. It's not a home without Anne. And while it may once have been his home, the house in Feldcroft never smelt comforting. More now than ever, it smells like dust and regret without his family.
Surprisingly, the thought of them didn’t hurt as much as it did before he came down here. Maybe there is something about crying after all.
The pair slowly drifted to sleep under the Hufflepuff cloak, the emotional explosion having drained them both of energy.
For the first time in months, neither of them had a nightmare.