In the year 1900, Penelope Silverthorn returns to Hogwarts after eight years of leaving only to find herself struggling with everything she left behind, including Sebastian Sallow, who is betrothed to another.
EllaSallow
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Chapter 28: Did Merlin Do This Too? *
"My heart's against your chest. Your lips pressed to my neck." Ed Sheeran
This chapter contains mature content.
February 11, 1895
Sebastian Sallow's fingers tapped idly on the surface of the wooden counter as he nursed an empty glass of whiskey. He might've lost count of the glasses he'd consumed. Let alone, he might've lost himself in general. For months. Years.
The air around him was thick, as it always felt at his state now for the twenty one year old. You could hear chatter and laughter from other patrons inside that Irondale Inn and Pub, but all Sebastian heard was a pit of silence.
The young man drowned himself in a tangled mess; a junk of memories haunted him with each take. He had tried to survive off them with alcohol, numbing the pain of the past, but regardless, she lingered like a shadow in the corner of his mind. His heart.
Although drunk in thoughts and sight, Sebastian Sallow remembered that day. That night, specifically. How the bell of the Irondale's pub dangled through, and in entered a woman.
At first, it meant nothing to revolve himself around women. He couldn't even remember them from the drinking. He had set a standard that he'd never attempt to settle again. Ever.
But this night. This woman.
Again, Sebastian's heavy brown eyes almost slept as he stared down at the refilled glass. More galleons to the tap — where all his savings began going.
"Oh, why, thank you!" The same woman laughed. She had set several bar seats away from Sebastian. Just enough for space between them.
That laugh.
Taking another sip of his drink, Sebastian ignored the attention of the woman and pushed aside his thoughts, but even from the corner of his blurry eye, he could still take sight of her.
As the whiskey burned down his throat, he took the courage to make this his very last drink before turning his head slightly at her.
Sebastian Sallow wanted to recoil in place from the sight. He had a belief that the alcohol poisoning had settled in place and he was merely in a heavy illusion.
The long waves twirled in the darkening setting of the pub. The same soft curve of the jaw, the same glowy skin — fuck, the height. The laugh.
For a moment, Sebastian allowed himself to indulge in the illusion, to imagine that it was really her sitting there before him — that somehow, against all odds, Penelope Silverthorn had returned to him.
