endgame // sebastian sallow

34: Post-Game Relief *

Chapter 34: Post-Game Relief *

This chapter contains mature content.

Noelle's Perspective

It was probably a bad idea — no, it wasn't. Was it? No, it was not. From this angle, my reflection didn't even look awful. The green shadowed over my skin and the loose fabric cozied on my shoulders.

Cressida was going to kill me

The jersey smelled faintly like him; mixed with old vintage parchment and whatever scent bloomed on that Feldcroft home. Luckily, his name wasn't engraved on it, considering it was from the third year.

I think I'll be fine — wearing the Slytherin jersey Sebastian landed me back at Felcroft. It was the only support clothing I owned for the snakes. And my only reasoning to support him.

I should've reasoned with myself that there were times Sebastian would cheer me on for doing the bare minimum during my first days at Hogwarts.

From Crossed Wands to Summoner's Court, he never failed to clap the loudest, to smirk with that insufferable pride — he was supportive and he didn't even know me.

"Err—Noelle?!"

It was the first notice Ominis Gaunt gathered on me from the Slytherin stands.

A few eyes did take a double glance at me. I was worried they'd connect the jersey I wore, but I threw on a sweater to cover up from the cold.

I puckered my lips. "Gaunt,"

He stood there with no expression on his face. It was unfortunate for him to not watch the chaos, but he said he'd often enjoy listening to the crowd — it was a guidance to know what was happening in the air.

"What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed to be here?" I asked sarcastically.

Ominis smirked. "I don't claim the rules." He crossed his arms, his glowing wand tipping behind his elbows. "A Gryffindor supporting Slytherin? Odd."

"Pssh," I rolled my eyes.

"Off, Sallow!"

I turned.

It took a good minute to actually find him in the air.

His hair was a mess, and his brows scrunched from the focus he had over the game.

The way he twisted and dipped as muscles flexing beneath his Quidditch gear. It made it look like he belonged up there.

Damn.

"Is he doing well? I heard his name?" Ominis cut my focused watch.

"Huh, oh," I lost focus. "Yeah. He's...great."

"He certainly looks intense." A voice piped up behind us.

I turned around, already knowing who it was before I saw him.

An amused glint plastered on his colored eyes as he pretended to observe the match above us, but there was a stupid grin on his face as he commented. "—Very intense, indeed."

Then his eyes landed on me, catching my notice and I tightened my hands. He was a bench above me, so he looked much taller than how he was known to be.