Hiraeth | Sebastian Sallow Love Story

Chapter Ten: We've Arrived

Thankfully Sebastian wasn't completely heartless as he didn't pry. He shifted topics, "What about being a metamorphmagus? It must be fun to be able to change your appearance at will without the need for a polyjuice potion or spell work."

"It can be when someone doesn't make me change my hair color." She said pointedly.

He smirked, closing his eyes, but continued to speak. He must be tired, but interested enough in the conversation to keep talking. "Any color suits you, don't have a fit about it."

Suits her? What exactly did that mean? "What about being the demon of the rebellion? Why do you feel the need to wear a mask?"

"Demon? I chose an Angel bias." He muttered too innocently.

Gracie waved him off dismissively, "Yes, yes. The Angel of Death. You're a demon, you should have chosen Abaddon. It's much more fitting, isn't it?"

"The fallen angel who balances the line between good and evil, presiding judgement over those he deems worthy of salvation?" His lip quirked up, one eye opening to see her expression. "Shortcake, you'll have to do better than that."

She shook her head, casting a ward on the door for her own sanity. It would immediately wake her up if someone were to try and open the door. Satisfied, she leaned her head against the wall of the train and tried to catch up on some rest.

Luckily, she didn't find herself swallowed up by nightmares, but instead angels and demons. She dreamt of the beautiful angel who defied God and suffered a fall from grace. She dreamt that the prince of demons was tall and muscular. His hair wind-swept and brown with a few pieces curlier than the others. She dreamt that he had a slight Scottish accent mixed in with a British one and a tongue sharper than any sword made of goblin silver. And he was telling her to wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up, Gracie.

Someone's coming.

There was desperation. He was pleading with her.

You need to wake up, now.

Chapter Ten: We've Arrived

She woke with a start. The sun was setting which meant that she'd likely fallen asleep for maybe five hours. Sebastian was out cold, his chest rising and falling. He looked peaceful and didn't look as if he'd killed a man earlier simply for feeling disrespected.

Gracie looked back towards the cart door, thankful that there was a curtain over the window. It allowed for some privacy, but she could still see the shadows from the overhead lighting of the train cart in the main passageway.

And there was someone standing in front of theirs, trying to peer in. She frowned, wondering why trouble followed her like bowtruckles on doxy eggs. She watched the figure tilt their head and lightly turn the door handle. If this was a dark wizard, they'd use alohomora and she'd blow up half the train. If this was a Muggle, they'd give up when realizing the door was locked.

Reaching forward, but keeping her eyes locked on the shadowed figure, Gracie tapped Sebastian's knee. He shifted in her peripheral, but then when he turned to realize what she was looking at, he stiffened almost imperceptibly.