what if? // sebastian sallow

In the Shadow of Nightmares

Suggested soundtrack: YKWIM? (Slowed Version) - Yot Club

A group of Inferi feel as if they are closing in on us, and the world darkens. Sebastian catches my eye from across the room, and my heart clenches in my chest as I notice his irises have turned into a spine-chilling deep black color, melding with his pupils. He turns his attention to Solomon.

"She cannot be healed, Sebastian! You must stop!" Solomon yells from across the room.

Sebastian raises his wand in anger, and a bolt of pure green energy leaves it as he yells, "I won't let her suffer! Avada Kedavra!".

The green spell suddenly melts into Sebastian and I laying on a picnic blanket on the Quidditch pitch, gazing up at emerald fireworks in the night sky. He turns his attention to me, his brown irises alight with comfort and familiarity.

"I've missed you so much, Jazz, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I've missed you so much it hurts. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm going to say it for the rest of your life, and mine, because I'm here to stay." He threads his warm fingers through mine.

I feel drunk on firewhiskey, fireworks, and the promises in Sebastian's eyes. I have the sinking feeling that though he reassures me with his words, there's desperation on his mind.

I watch in heartbroken resignation, as he suddenly starts to fade away. A part of me knew from the very beginning, he was never here to stay.

***

I startle awake in a cold sweat, clenching my bedsheets, tears streaming down my face. It's happening again.

I sit up in bed in the silence of the girls' dormitory, burying my face into my hands. How long until I'm able to get over what happened? How long until the nightmares end? How long until I...forget Sebastian?

I throw aside the covers in frustration, knowing it's futile to try to go back to sleep. I throw on my Slytherin robes over my pajamas, and leave the dormitories for the common room. The night is dead silent; haunting yet peaceful all at once.

I'm making a cup of tea in the quiet of the common room when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around reluctantly, not feeling eager to make conversation with anyone at this time of night. I barely have the energy to deal with my own inner thoughts.

I'm surprised to see a disheveled Sebastian, shooting a tired half-smile at me. He's wearing an old, worn, green Quidditch t-shirt over grey pajama pants. Even with sleep blurring his eyes, and his hair a tangled mess, he has an unnatural hold on me. I have to tear my eyes away from him.

"Jazz," he says quietly, his voice deeper than usual with exhaustion.

"Why are you up?" I ask, looking at the floor.

"I could very well be asking you the same question."

"Couldn't sleep," I say shortly, turning my attention back to pouring my tea. I hesitate for a beat, then ask, "Want a cup?"

He flops down on one of the couches near the fireplace. "Sure, why not? I don't think I'll be getting any more sleep tonight."

He watches me in silence as I pour the tea into two small cups. Tonight, I have mine straight black, but I sweeten Sebastian's with exactly one teaspoon of sugar and a splash of creamer. No matter how many years pass, I'll never forget the small, intimate details of the things that he likes. I can feel his eyes on me, and it makes me unnaturally nervous, especially at this hour of the night, standing here in my pajamas.

I glance up at him, and he has a deep sadness in his eyes with the way that he watches me.

"Jazz, have you been crying?" he asks suddenly, making me drop the spoon on the floor in surprise, the clatter echoing loudly through the silence of the common room.   

I bend down immediately to pick up the spoon, if only to avert his eyes for a moment. "No."

"I can tell when you're lying," he says, his voice soft.  

I sigh, and in a smooth motion, he's suddenly up from the couch and wrapping me into his arms. I'm taken by surprise, still holding the teacup. He takes it from me gently, and places it on the table next to us, pulling me into his arms again. 

I breathe out another sigh, reluctantly wrapping my arms around his waist, and just hold him for a moment. He feels soft and warm, and I bury myself in his worn t-shirt.

"I just had a bad dream," I admit finally.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" he invites. He pulls me over to the couch by my hand, gesturing me to sit. Once I sit down, he hands me the cup filled with black tea before taking a seat, taking his own cup in hand.

His warm voice tempts me to spill it all. I ache so badly to sink into his temporary comfort. I take a sip of tea, and watch him do the same, as he locks eyes with me over the rims of our teacups.

"I just...I've been struggling, Seb. It's been hard to process everything. I'll think I'm fine during the day, but then the nights drag on, and I find myself awake, just waiting for the next morning. Each day doesn't feel like a new day – life just feels like one long, never-ending stretch to me right now."

"Hmm, I can understand. What do you dream about? Maybe that can give us a clue towards what you're still processing, and maybe we can think about how to work through it and help you sleep better."

I love the way he says "we". I look at him, remembering my dream of his fingers intertwined with mine, the beautiful glow of fireworks reflected in his eyes. Imagining forever with him. But that was all only a distraction from the dark, haunting moments before with the Inferi. With Solomon. How can I possibly tell him and dare to remind him of that?

As I hesitate, he searches my eyes and I have an uncomfortable feeling that he already knows exactly what's going through my mind.

"Just things that happened in our fifth year," I say, and he nods in understanding.

"I can tell you don't want to talk about it, but I think I know what you're trying to say, Jazz. I don't know if this will be of any comfort to you, but...sometimes I still dream about Uncle Solomon. But not in the way that we saw him last, fighting with us in the caves with the Inferi. I remember him in a softer way. Back at home in Feldcroft. He did so much around the house, and he taught me and Anne so much about how to use tools, how to garden. He always did say we shouldn't become too reliant on magic, and there's still something beautiful about doing things by hand," Sebastian says, his eyes warm with memories.

Listening to him, I could almost cry again, but not from pain and fear this time; instead, I feel an incredible nostalgia and longing for things to be well again. "That's such a pretty memory to have, Sebastian," I sigh, setting my tea down on the table.

"How about this? Sleep here tonight. I'll stay awake to fight off your nightmares. If it seems like you're starting to panic, I'll just wake you up and we can talk about something happy until you feel safe again."

I laugh. "You can't really fight bad dreams."

"Well, at least I can damn well try," he says, smiling.

"I don't want you to have to stay awake on my account," I persist.

"Let me make it up to you for the other night. How I acted at the Three Broomsticks doesn't sit right with me. I haven't been able to sleep because of it, Jazz. Please, let me do this for you."

He covers me with a soft, fuzzy throw from one of the common room's armchairs, and grudgingly, I lay back on the couch, using the cushy armrest as my pillow. He sits on the other end of the couch at my feet, and I see him conjure up a thick book, and get engrossed in his reading, sneaking a glance at me every now and then.

The sudden sense of relief that I feel is overwhelming and I feel myself start to drift off. As my consciousness disappears into a welcoming darkness, all I hear is the comfortable sound of Sebastian humming while he reads his book.