“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean,” Sebastian said, raising his eyebrow impatiently. He was sprawled on the sofa in the common house with a grim expression on his face. Not that he had many other expressions recently.
Ominis pretended not to hear, keeping his wand raised and his nose directed elsewhere.
“Oh, but I mean every single word I said,” Morgan retorted with a snort. The friend had a nasty habit of taking everything too lightly, never thinking about the consequences. He just acted. Especially since he had run into a goblin camp a few days earlier, quickening his pace to irritate her, to reiterate the notion that she was ‘too cautious’. Too cautious, my foot.
But she was no less.
Sebastian laughed, almost meanly. “As if it had any importance. In my opinion, you should only focus on the really important things,” he bickered sharply.
That was all they had been doing lately, fighting, saying mean things to each other without really thinking them through and venting their frustration in the worst way they could do, lashing out at each other over things beyond their control.
Sebastian was as tense as a violin string because of the constant fails he was making in trying to find a cure for Anne. In Salazar Slytherin’s book, he had found references to powerful old artefacts of dark magic, among them a relic he seemed obsessed with. It drove him mad not to understand where it had been hidden. There were far too many sinister caves near the school for them to check them all—which sounded absorbed to think about. He was trying to narrow it down, but without much luck.
Morgan, on the other hand, was trying to maintain the appearance of a role model student for the professors, considering that she spent nights away from school and escaped into the forbidden forest at every break in class. Professor Weasley was constantly asking her where her head was at, although she could hardly expect more from her. Her grades were excellent. The more she seemed to be getting to the bottom of Ranrok’s plan, the more she seemed to be going backwards.
Not to mention that O.W.L.s were approaching for both of them. All they needed were exams to complicate the situation even more. To make their mood even worse.
Ominis was clearly fed up with both of them, although, like a true gentleman, he tried not to show it, to Morgan in particular.
She was convinced that the young Gaunt would have gladly ignored her existence if he could. But thanks to Sebastian, he was often forced to spend time together instead.
Morgana liked Ominis. It was the other way round where the mechanism jammed.
“Poppy is my friend and yours too, if I remember correctly,” she blurted, crossing her arms over her chest.
It’s always the same story. At least four times a week. Her having to justify herself.
Sebastian encouraged her—more like sometimes pushed her off a cliff—to help him with Anne, but the list of people Morgan had to help was getting longer and longer. Though she tried her hardest, his rightness this time frustrated her. She would not admit it even under the influence of the Veritaserum potion. She would have to concentrate on Ranrok and postpone everything else until later.
Helping Anne was also a priority, as a matter of time. They did not know how much longer she would be able to resist the curse, although none of them had any intention of raising the topic.
“She is, but clearing out dragon-fighting rings and releasing one doesn’t seem like the most urgent thing to do. Or brilliant, for that matter,” Sebastian replied. He had his arms outstretched, leaning over the back of the settee and an armrest, with his usual confident and swaggering posture.
Morgan was glad she hadn’t told him about the egg. If he had known, he would have broken it over her head.
“Because brilliant things are exclusive to Sebastian Sallow, or am I mistaken?” said Morgan, piqued and with a hint of malice.
The friend finally turned his gaze to her, eyes on fire, fists clenched. “You’re insufferable. I’m going to study— Charms,” he lied. He actually went to reread Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook in the hope of catching some detail he had missed in the previous thousand readings. But Ominis was with them and he had had the bright idea to tell him that he would not be obsessed with it.
Morgan had not known Sebastian for years as the young Gaunt, but at the exact moment he had made that promise, she knew it was the silliest thing that had come out of his mouth. But Ominis was good and tended to trust his friend completely, even when he said such nonsense.
Morgan remained staring at the fireplace with rancour. “Ominis, you don’t have to stay here,” she said, too eagerly. Arguing with Sebastian knotted her wand.
The young Gaunt looked at her, though he could not really see her, with his glass-coloured eyes for a long moment. “For once, I have to agree with Sebastian,” he confessed.
Morgan made an exasperated cry.
“Are you kidding? Agh, all right. I know he’s right, but don’t you dare tell him! And it wasn’t my intention to release a dragon. Poppy and I didn’t know what we were getting into,” she justified herself. Admitting this allowed her to release briefly the built-up tension.
Ominis shrugged his shoulders. “He’s just overwhelmed by events, but the truth is, he’s envious that he wasn’t there to battle the poachers with you,” he said in a way that seemed genuinely sad to Morgan.
She knew that for Ominis, the fact that his closest friend would throw himself so headlong into dangerous situations scared him to death, but she couldn’t help but laugh.
Sebastian was going to have so much fun in that tent, he was going to be captivated by that creature that had hovered in the sky after its chains had been removed.
“Be careful though Morgan, if you were to get hurt too, I don’t know how he would react,” he concluded, getting up and walking away from her before she could answer him.
But Morgan was always trying to be careful so that this would not happen.
And not just for Sebastian, but because she had a task that no one else could complete and she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she ended up at St. Mungo’s before Ranrok’s defeat. No one else would oppose him. He would have free rein to do whatever bloody thing he was planning.
She remained brooding on the green velvet couch until she realised she would be late for Charms lesson.
She bit her tongue to keep from cursing and flew to her dorm room. She grabbed the book, hoping she had actually grabbed the right one, and ran through the corridors, trying to avoid hitting other students.
She sprinted into Professor Ronen’s classroom, her breath catching and her hair ruffled.
“Well arrived Miss Lowen. We were wondering if we ought to send someone after you,” the professor greeted her with a wry half-smile. Another teacher in his place would have scolded her and taken points off the house for sure, but that was not Abraham Ronen’s style.
Morgan was doubled over and raised her hand slightly towards her lecturer. “Excuse me, Professor,” she stammered, going to her seat. There was no point in formulating a brief story to ease the guilt, say she had been held back or something. Professor Ronen always appreciated sincerity.
“Ah. Ah. Ah! Stop right there. Since you are already in the middle of the classroom, you might as well show everyone the silencing spell,” he blocked her, gesturing his arms with the intention of cheering her up.
Morgan gave a big smile. False, but also heartfelt towards the Professor. She cast Wingardium Leviosa to take her book back to her seat and turned around. The teacher meanwhile had appeared a cage with a bird on a stool.
Morgan settled up straight, legs apart, and cleared her throat. “Silencio,” she said, moving her wrist harmoniously. The spell was cast correctly in practice, but the sparrow continued to chirp undisturbed.
“Go on, go on. Try again,” said the teacher, and so she did.
The second time went a little better, although the bird was only effectively muted for a few seconds.
“Alright Miss Lowen, go back to your seat. Silencio is a rather complicated charm, even the best magicians can misdo it. It’s not so much a matter of pulse, but of concentration. If our intent falters, we won’t actually be able to cast it successfully,” he explained to the class, marking the last words by snapping them directly at Morgan, who felt herself blush.
Natsai was called second and, to no one’s surprise, managed to shush the bird effortlessly. Morgan, who was her deskmate, looked down at her feet to hide her snort of irritation.
“Cheer up, Miss Lowen. All you need is a little more practice. I’m sure Mr Sallow can be a great training dummy,” the Professor chuckled, causing general hilarity. Morgan looked at the Slytherin friend, seated on the opposite side of the classroom, and then lowered her eyes again, her face even more flushed than before.
Leander had certainly found Ronen’s joke very funny until Sebastian turned to look at him with a murderous stare.
Morgan hadn’t laughed either. She had just hinted at a smile due to nervousness.
The rest of the lecture was thankfully more serious, and the Professor concentrated on the practical sides of the enchantment, on the more difficult creatures to mute, such as toads or birds indeed, but also explaining the various uses that went beyond mutating a person or creature.
Morgan was among the last students to leave the classroom, not wanting to give the impression that she was not interested in Charms. Certainly not as handy as Defence Against the Dark Arts, but among those desks she had learnt more than a few tricks that had proved far more than they seemed.
“Don’t be so down about a trifle like this,” Natsai told her warmly as she joined her beyond the door. “I can always help you if you need,” she added.
Morgan thanked her, promising that she would try it herself first.
She could try casting Silencio on some Ashwinder, even just to see if it might prove useful in battle.
Although deep down she knew what the solution was, it wasn’t a matter of practice, but of concentration. Which was the most difficult obstacle to overcome.
After the last class of the day, as subsequent ones in the afternoon had been cancelled due to a problem caused by Peeves in the Faculty Tower, Morgan was eager to get out of the castle walls. She still had many places to explore and goblin camps to clear in search of clues to their activities.
But first she had to travel to Mrs Twiddle in Irondale. Ever since she had helped her solve a puzzle about pots in old, abandoned ruins, she had promised to visit her from time to time to have a cup of tea together.
Unlike many other villagers, she didn’t seem to care that Morgan wandered so far from the castle, even on school days.
She had gone into a sort of trance, thinking about how sooner or later she would have to find a way to the Poidsear Coast, through the goblin tunnel without getting killed. She had discovered the passage in the mountain relatively recently, but had nearly run into a troll. It was a dangerous pass, certainly fun, but she couldn’t go there without planning her supplies well first.
She would think about it at the weekend. For now, it was enough to go to Irondale. She didn’t have the right mental energy to plan such a trip.
“Morgan, I’m talking to you,” she finally heard. Sebastian looked at her with raised eyebrows and a crooked mouth. “Did you even hear a word I said?”
“No. I’m sorry” she shook her head, embarrassed. She hadn’t realised at all that her friend was saying anything to her.
“I was asking if you’d like to join us for a study night. We have Binns’ assignment to prepare for Friday,” he repeated surprisingly calmly.
The History of Magic assignment. She had forgotten about it completely.
She bit her lip guiltily. “I’ll be there after dinner,” she replied, nodding.
“Where are you going now?” He inquired. He was bloody curious.
Morgan sighed. “To Irondale to Mrs Twiddle’s,” she admitted truthfully, aware that he would have something to say about it.
He put his hands on his hips and examined her for a long moment, keeping his chin up and looking defiant. “Alright, I’ll join you,” he finally communicated, releasing the tension in his body.
“I wasn’t inviting you,” Morgan immediately corrected him.
He moved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry, I had to talk to you about something anyway,” he whispered, as if it was her fault that she hadn’t invited him to join her in the first place.
Morgan gave up, she knew from her friend’s expression that there was no chance to getting rid of him. Plus, he was a tremendous talker and Mrs Twiddle would appreciate his big mouth. “Alright. See you at the gamekeepers in fifteen minutes,” she said, already running off in the direction of the common room.
With her coat over her school uniform and a nice scarf around her neck, she came flying in close to the hut, seeing Sebastian’s figure stomp his foot in impatience. She dismounted from her broom and greeted her friend with a quick wave of her head.
“I can’t stand you when you run off like you did before for no reason, as if I wasn’t heading for the common room either,” he pointed out, annoyed.
Morgan extended her hand, giving him a pair of liquorice wands to ingratiate herself with him. “I had to go retrieve these,” she explained, showing some lovage leaves hidden in her inside pocket.
“You’re not going to buy my forgiveness with just two of these,” he squabbled, waving the treats around.
She gave him a little nudge. “Indeed I am,” she replied.
Sebastian laughed, immediately chewing on one of the candies. “So, tell me a bit about this Mrs Twiddle,” he asked her with his mouth full.
“So, her name is Althea. She became a widow not so long time ago and makes an exquisite tea with butter biscuits. But mostly she tells bizarre stories about her husband. He died under mysterious circumstances and was a puzzle enthusiast. From what I gathered, he must have worked for the Ministry’s Department of Mysteries. They must have been very much in love by the way she always gets emotional talking about him,” Morgan said, walking to avoid the tree roots.
It was early afternoon; they had several hours before dinner, and they could not miss their study session with Ominis.
“The Department of Mysteries, interesting,” Sebastian commented.
Morgan leaned on his arm, literally weighing her next words. “Don’t be rude, please.”
“When am I ever rude! You’ll see that when we leave her house, she’ll want to see me again more than you,” he joked, smiling, winking at her, but of this Morgan was absolutely certain. He was excellent at getting people to like him and especially at winning the hearts of older ladies. There was a reason why the professors were so indulgent towards him.
She snorted. “You are always rude, to me at least,” she pointed out.
“You don’t count,” he replied, raising his chin haughtily.
“Thank you, truly. But don’t try to distract me. What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, remembering what he had told her down the stairs.
They clutched each other to fight the cold. It was a harsh, dry winter day.
Sebastian’s expression immediately turned serious. “I think I have found the catacomb,” he announced.
So that was the reason for his bad mood in the morning, not the dragon business.
“What?” Morgan shouted, breaking away from him to hit him in the arm. “And you tell me like that!”
He clung back to her, shuddering. “Well, I could always be wrong and I can’t make a big deal out of it with Ominis always snooping around,” he muttered.
“He’s just worried about you,” Morgan said, a phrase she had already repeated so many times over the last few weeks that it had almost completely lost meaning.
“I know. I’m a terrible friend,” he mumbled, appalled. He was truly sorry to worry his friend so much, but even Ominis had to realise that he could take care of himself. Besides, the stakes were too high. It was Anne they were talking about, her life.
The last time he had seen his sister, he had noticed how thin she had become in just a few weeks. She was becoming the ghost of herself.
Morgan, seeing the increasingly dark expression, pushed him again, making them both wobble dangerously.
“Oh, look out! What was that for?” He asked in laughter after yet another settling step. The road was icy; it was a moment to end up with my butt on the ground.
“No particular reason,” Morgan shrugged, gripping Sebastian’s arm tighter.
They continued talking until they arrived in Irondale and the further they got from the black lake, the colder it got. Their breaths came out in puffs of thick condensation, the same colour as the traditional Scottish sky.
Mrs Twiddle was delighted with the surprise visit, and also with the friend Morgan had brought with her. Sebastian, brushing off all the almond butter biscuits placed on the silver tray, did his best to be as polite to the lady as possible. He asked her about her husband, her health, the village, and even offered to help her if she needed some kind of repair in the house.
Morgan was happy that he had accompanied her. She loved wandering through the woods and hamlets, even going against dangers beyond her abilities, but it was not unpleasant to have company from time to time.
The jasmine tea heated her frozen lungs and calmed her heartbeat, which had been galloping madly ever since she had realised how little was actually left until the end of the school year.
Morgan greeted Mrs. Twiddle warmly as she left her house, assuring her to stop by as soon as she could.
The winter afternoon had turned blue, and the stars had already begun to shine, along with a small portion of the moon still shyly hiding behind the mountain. It would have been a perfect evening to use the telescope, but fortunately they would not have had to catch any more cold on the Astronomy Tower.
“Sounds a little off to me,” commented his friend when they were outside the village.
“Sebastian!” Morgan shot back at him.
“What! It’s true, you know it’s true,” he teased her, pointing at her with his gloved finger.
He was wearing the gloves Anne had sewn him for Christmas. Strange chocolate-coloured mittens that Sebastian loved to wear even though they didn’t keep him warm at all. It was going to be a long journey to school, considering the biting air that was blowing through the yarn of their jumpers.
“She’s not crazy, just eccentric,” she corrected him.
“But I never said she was crazy,” he mocked her, with a smile she hadn’t seen on his face in a while. Not since his Uncle Solomon had turned him away from the house, labelling his efforts and research as worthless.
Morgan huffed, “I can’t stand you. Why are we friends?” She asked him, piqued.
“Because you need me,” he pointed out to her, carefully spelling out each word.
“Ah, I would need you,” she replied in a faux enlightened tone.
“Who defended you from the trolls at Hogsmeade, who let you into the restricted section by nearly catching a ten-year punishment, and I would like to underline, who is teaching you forbidden curses at the risk of being expelled, who—”
“Silencio,” cast Morgan, with surprising success.
Sebastian’s words died on his tongue. He moved his lips, unable to produce any sound. She dropped the spell almost immediately in laughter, but he was already angry. He wasn’t angry, not really, but he was doing his best to look like it.
“She’s studying alone tonight. No, not just tonight, for the rest of her school career,” he attacked her, trying not to laugh in turn.
“Don’t threaten me Sallow, or I’ll tell Ominis about Sacharissa Tugwood,” she retorted, amused. Of the two, it would have been almost worse than initiating Sebastian’s intention to find the relic mentioned in Salazar Slytherin’s book. At least one of them was inanimate and didn’t spit judgments, believing herself to be the most beautiful in the school.
Morgan remembered the first time he had met the Hufflepuff girl in the corridors, it had been Ominis himself who had introduced her, telling her that he was the only one in the school who treated with any kindness because she pitied him for not being able to see her beauty like all their other classmates.
Sacharissa Tugwood was the Hufflepuff with the biggest ego in Hogwarts history.
But Sebastian had been petrified by the phrase her friend said in jest. “How do you know?” he stammered, embarrassed.
“She told me, of course,” she said, vividly remembering the tone the girl had used, as if she had just shot an arrow straight into her heart. Indeed, Morgan hadn’t taken it very well; she had had to fight herself not to stun her against the wall of the girls’ bathroom. “She practically bragged about it,” she wanted to add, but she didn’t.
She regretted bringing it up, but she wasn’t surprised by her behaviour. Part of her wanted an explanation from him. Even if they were just friends, though, what explanation would he have to give her? She had got herself into quite a pickle.
“Not one of my finest moments,” he justified, resuming his walk with bowed head. “I was actually looking for you, when—” he said, dying half the sentence.
It had been just two weeks before, Sebastian had convinced the three of them to go to the Three Broomsticks with the intention of drowning their thoughts in butterbeer. He always did this when he received letters from home, and neither Morgan nor Ominis had the heart to stop him. On this particular night, she had wandered off for a moment. She couldn’t even remember why, and apparently, at the same juncture, Sebastian had stumbled into the Sacharissa.
The only thing she could picture was him and Sacharissa clutching each other, their mouths colliding, while she was who knows where.
“When did you happen to meet Sacharissa, and it was love at first sight?” She provoked him. Why did she keep harping on this? She had to talk about something else. About the relic maybe, a great topic, perfect for distracting Sebastian.
“She kissed me,” he emphasised sharply, indicating first to a blank point in front of him and then to himself.
“She told me otherwise,” Morgan escaped in an irritated gasp. Why couldn't she hush herself up? She didn't want to know the details about that meeting, right?
The friend suddenly quickened his pace. “And you believed her?” He asked her.
She took two long strides back to the boy’s side. “Well... C’mon, does it really make any difference who kissed who?” Morgan demanded, turning to face him.
Sebastian looked up at her before returning it to the bumpy road ahead of them. “No, I guess not.”
With the arrival of evening, they came across a pair of dark mongrels just before the castle, but they didn’t prove to be much of a problem. They usually travelled in small packs and were quite easy to handle.
As they entered the castle, it was already quite gloomy outside, and Professor Weasley stopped them just past the doorway. “What were you doing-out-alone-at this hour?” She inquired, making them flinch.
They hadn’t seen her at all, yet they had been careful to go unnoticed.
It was amazing how the Deputy Headmistress always managed to catch everyone who had something to hide.
“Professor Weasley,” they greeted her in chorus with the most fake joyful expressions.
“How nice to see you. Have you solved the Peaves situation?” Sebastian investigated, rubbing his hands sore from the sudden change in temperature.
The Transfiguration teacher gave him a serious look. “Don’t change the subject, Mr Sallow. But yes, we worked it out. Thanks for asking,” she acknowledged.
“We were in Hogsmeade, Professor,” Morgan responded with a smile, pulling the lovage leaves from her pocket. “I needed them for Professor Sharp’s next lesson.”
The witch looked at the leaves for a long time, half expecting them to turn into something else, and then nodded. “Very well. I will check with Professor Sharp if you are telling the truth,” she warned them, but turned away, somewhat upset. Professor Weasley was certain she had caught them in some mischief.
Sebastian turned to look at his friend, who shrugged, amused. “Next week we are going to study the Befuddlement Draught potion,” she said proudly.
“Are you cleaver,” Sebastian remarked and astonished. “The student surpasses the master,” he bowed, pretending to take off an imaginary hat.
“The student had overtaken the master a while ago,” she giggled.
At dinner, which they reached just in time, Sebastian sat as always to the right of Ominis, with Morgan in front. The stew was particularly bland according to her, but that could be the fault of the amount of liquorice wand she had stuffed in her mouth so as not to say any more nonsense about Sacharissa Tugwood on the way back.
The young Gaunt was very curious as to where they had been because Morgan discovered that Sebastian had told him nothing, only that they would be studying after dinner.
Telling an already very worried and suspicious friend that you would disappear for hours without saying exactly where and why was a poor strategy. And in fact, he asked question after question, getting more and more nervous when Sebastian only replied with allusive answers.
Tired of watching Ominis go crazy on the benches, Morgan told him where they had been, that it was absolutely nothing dangerous or reckless. Because of this, he seemed not to believe her, as if she had only told part of the truth.
“Bloody hell, Ominis. You need to calm down. We’ve only drunk tea,” Sebastian blurted out at one point, dropping his spoon noisily on his plate.
Dinner continued in awkward silence. Despite the lovely afternoon, by now, the trio was used to silly arguments like this happening every single evening and even the other Slytherins had stopped paying attention to them.
When they found themselves in the common room, one glance from Sebastian was enough to chase away the second-year students who were occupying their sofa. Not that it was truly theirs. It wasn’t written anywhere, but according to the two boys, it was an acquisition due to the wear and tear of the furniture. To listen to Sebastian, every mark had been made by one of them. ‘Do you remember Ominis, when I was so nervous about the potions exam in the first year that I scratched away some of the wood,’ he often repeated, referring to a series of scratches on one of the armrests.
They read in silence, with Ominis and Sebastian sitting on the sofa, while when there was writing to do, Morgan preferred to be on the carpet. Their study sessions were nothing more than doing their homework separately but in each other’s company. A habit that seemed to hold up even to the worst arguments.
The young Gaunt ran the tip of his wand across the pages, managing, in a way Morgan did not completely understand, to read. Sebastian had the habit of turning away from the world when he opened a tome, only occasionally being heard to murmur a few words.
Professor Binns was extremely boring and demanding. Morgan found it difficult to remember all the names of the wizards involved in the battles, the locations, not to mention the dates. She memorised more easily the political reasons behind certain events, what had triggered what. Sebastian, on the other hand, could store any kind of information in his brain. All he had to do was read it a couple of times, and it was as if he had imprinted it in his own skull.
It was astounding to her how he could remember so many details of so many subjects all at once.
That was how he managed to get away with almost any punishment, excellent grades and charisma to spare, even if he couldn’t enchant all the professors in the same way. Professor Sharp was an incredibly down-to-earth man. If he had tried to use the exact same techniques in his classroom that he used to impress Weasley or Kogawa, he probably would have failed the class, regardless of his results.
He was also unsuccessful with Professor Onai, but that was more due to the bad influence the woman thought he had on her daughter. Very understandable concern given the name he had at school, especially since Anne had fallen ill.
“Yes?” Sebastian asked without looking up from the textbook.
Morgan was staring at him and hadn’t even realised it. But not only that, the last word she had written on her scroll was his very name. She quickly erased it, quickly popping a question about a battle whose start date she couldn’t remember. She had written it a few lines before the name Sebastian, but had not had a better excuse.
Given the innumerable deletions and that two paragraphs, according to her rereading, were better reversed, she decided to transcribe everything in a new copy. When Ominis, at the umpteenth yawn, began to feel too tired to continue.
It must have been considerably late. There was no one left in the common room, just a couple of seventh-year boys who were about to leave, too.
They wished Ominis a good rest, resuming their study in the same hush as before. Those moments were beautiful. It was as if nothing in their lives was going wrong. They seemed just students, like so many others.
The peace was interrupted by Imelda walking in and having one of her usual rants with a sixth-year girl. “Those Gryffindors don’t know what they’re talking about,” she was complaining loudly before noticing Morgan and turning around. She reached them in a leap and bent over the couch, talking mainly to Morgan, though she was only staring at Sebastian. “I’d rather not be an owl in the future. But here, it’s from Garreth,” she said, handing her an envelope. Sebastian, feeling Imelda’s penetrating gaze, had finally looked up from the history book. “I would avoid dating the Deputy Headmistress’s nephew, friendly advice,” she concluded as she walked away, glaring one last time at the boy.
“Thank you, Imelda,” Morgan replied, deliberately ignoring the last sentence.
He took a moment to look away from the back of the team Chaser and direct his gaze to his friend sitting on the floor. “Why are you getting letters from Garreth?” He demanded, approaching her barely, but changing the position of his legs several times.
“I have no idea,” she said with a shrug. She pushed the still-wet scroll away to avoid making a mess and opened the envelope. Morgan was afraid the missive would explode or make a cloud of sparks appear, but inside was a mere, simple note.
She skimmed it and put it away just as fast. She was not snappy enough, however; Sebastian snatched it from her hands.
“What kind of small favour would you have done him?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.
She huffed, trying to hide the blush in her guilty cheeks. “I just retrieved some ingredients for potions. No big deal, and that was ages ago. I don’t know why he’s thanking me now,” she hastened to say.
“I know why,” Sebastian said between his teeth, handing the note back to her and throwing himself once more into the reading.
Morgan waited for him to breathe a couple of times before inquiring further. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked in a calm tone. She could see he was already quite nervous.
“He thinks you’re pretty,” he said, bored.
“Oh,” Morgan whispered, expecting anything but that revelation. “He does?” She queried to no one in particular.
It was her brain trying to process the thought that someone might find her attractive or even vaguely feminine. Admittedly, the first few months at school, she wore nice clothes and tried to be nice to everyone, but now she was often covered in mud from her explorations, got impatient quickly, and was irreverent and quarrelsome. She was a bit like Imelda, now that she thought about it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the thud of Sebastian’s book being closed abruptly. He winced on the spot, looking up in her direction. “You’re not actually thinking of dating him, are you?” He blurted out.
“I was thinking about—” she interjected, biting her lip. “And then even if I was?” she questioned, unable to contain herself.
He really could bring out all her more combative side.
Sebastian got up tiredly from the couch. “Let’s go to sleep,” he said, but it sounded like an order.
Morgan let it go and got to her feet, gathering her things carefully. Her friend had moved away from the sofa but stood still, waiting for her. She slipped Garreth’s note between the manual and threw the old copy of the assignment into the flames of the fireplace.
When she had everything in her arms—books, parchment and inkwell—she reached Sebastian, ready to say goodnight to him. Their paths always split at this point. He would go to the male wing and she to the female one.
“Give me the assignment,” he said, extending his hand with his palm upward.
She shook her head. “Don’t bother,” she commented softly so as not to wake anyone up.
“I’ll just check that all the dates are correct, nothing more,” he smiled lazily, as if it were a small deal.
“When will you do that tonight while your eyes are closed?” She asked, but he wiggled his fingers again to get the task handed to him and gave up, snorting. “Please try to get some sleep,” she requested him with the edge of her voice.
He smiled, this time for real. “I’ll try,” he murmured, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Without adding anything else, he turned and walked away.
Morgan stood by the stairs petrified and touched her cheek as she had read so often do to the protagonists of novels. He had never made such a gesture, but—
She would have loved him to say more, to do more, but he never did. Not with her, at least.