Summary: In a desperate attempt to drown out vivid memories of a connection he cannot have, Sebastian uses a public display of affection as a "mute button" for his own conscience. However, a sharp intervention by Professor Sharp and the realization that his charade is hollow lead to a cold, abrupt ending that leaves him with a bitter clarity and a vindictive new enemy in Slytherin House.
Characters: Sebastian Sallow, Grace Pinch-Smedley, Professor Sharp, Ominis Gaunt.
Word Count: ~880 words
Masterlist
The rhythmic, heavy thrum-thrum of the Great Clock echoed through the courtyard, a mechanical heartbeat that seemed to mock the frantic pace of Sebastian’s mind.
He sat on the stone bench, Grace draped across his side, her voice a relentless, rapid-fire stream of chatter that usually acted like a thick fog over his mind. Ordinarily, her dissection of the "appalling" lack of decorum among the Hufflepuffs would have been enough to drown out every internal whisper, leaving him in a state of blessed, shallow silence where he couldn't even hear his own heartbeat, let alone his thoughts. But today, the wall of sound wasn't thick enough; her words were becoming nothing but blurred static, and through the noise, his own mind was screaming to be heard.
An image flashed unbidden into his mind: the memory of that half-light in the Room of Requirement. He could still feel the impossible softness of her hair as he’d tucked a stray lock behind her ear, the way his fingers had brushed against the slight, feverish pink of her cheeks. He remembered her half-lidded hazel eyes, dark and searching, and the specific, inviting shade of her lips as they’ve hovered just inches from his own. In the silence of that memory, he was back there—so close he could feel the radiating warmth of her body and the soft, hitching rhythm of her breath against his skin.
The thought made his stomach twist with a familiar, acidic frustration. He needed it to stop. He needed to be numb again.
He didn't wait for Grace to finish her sentence. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of her neck, and pulled her toward him with a suddenness that made her gasp. He silenced his thoughts with a kiss that was as intense as it was empty.
It was his favorite trick—his "mute button." For the first few moments, it worked perfectly. The physical friction of their lips and the heat of her skin acted like static, successfully muting the relentless noise of his own conscience and drowning out the world outside the stone archway.
But as the seconds ticked by, the static began to crack.
Behind his closed eyelids, the image of the Undercroft from last year erupted with a jarring, vivid clarity. He was back in that damp, torch-lit silence. He remembered telling her about the 'scandalous' pick-up lines he’d found in Rookwood's memories. He could still see her genuine, joyful laugh as she challenged him to prove it—he remembered the ghost of her hitched breath against his ear as he’d whispered. He remembered the smug triumph in his chest when he saw her flustered and crimson-faced, utterly undone by his proximity. The "numbness" was thinning, and reality was clawing its way back into his consciousness.
Sebastian felt a surge of panic. He couldn't let the silence break. He grabbed her by the waist and sat her on his lap with a frantic strength, trying to force the sensory overload to consume him entirely. He kissed her harder, deeper, chasing the high-voltage rush of adrenaline that usually acted like a Draught of Living Death for his conscience. He was fighting a war against his own memory, using Grace as his only weapon.
Grace made a small, muffled sound of surprise, her hands clutching at his robes as she tried to match his sudden, violent intensity.
But the harder he tried to lose himself, the more he found himself. The passion was a hollow shell. Through the heat and the friction, the cold realization finally pierced through: he wasn't feeling a thing. The adrenaline was gone, replaced by the bitter taste of copper and the jarring awareness that he was holding a stranger while thinking of someone else.
The 'mute button' didn't just break; it was shattered as Professor Sharp’s cane tapped softly against Sebastian’s leg.
"Mr. Sallow. Miss Pinch-Smedley."
The voice was as sharp and cold as a winter frost. Grace jumped off his lap and sat next to Sebastian, her face instantly turning a bright, humiliated scarlet as she smoothed her robes with trembling hands. The Potions Master looked entirely unimpressed, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze lingering on Sebastian’s disheveled robes with a look of clinical boredom.
"I was under the impression that the courtyard was intended for fresh air and reflection, not for... whatever biological display this is," Sharp noted. He didn't look scandalized; he looked like he was assessing a failed potion. "Ten points from Slytherin. Each. And I suggest you find a more private place—or perhaps more academic—use of your time before I decide to make it twenty. Move along."
Sharp didn't wait for an apology. He turned on his heel, the steady clack-clack of his cane fading into the distance as he disappeared toward the Great Hall.
The silence that followed was heavy and absolute. The adrenaline was completely gone, leaving Sebastian feeling exposed and profoundly exhausted. He looked at Grace, but he didn't really see her as a girl anymore; he saw her as a symptom of his own desperation. Slowly, he reached up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a gesture of instinctive, cold disgust—not necessarily for her, but for the charade he had been forcing. He stood up without saying a word, his movements jerky and stiff, looking down at her with a flat, hollow disappointment that made the air between them turn to ice.
"Sebastian? What is it? We were—"
"I'm done, Grace," he said, his voice flat and devoid of the charm he’d been faking for days. The silence of the courtyard was suddenly schooling.
Grace straightened up, her expression shifting from confusion to a dawning, sharp-edged realization. "Done? You mean you're tired? We can go back to the common room if—"
"No," Sebastian interrupted, smoothing his robes. He didn't look at her. "I mean we are done. This... whatever this is. It’s over."
The silence that followed was heavier than the ticking clock. Grace’s face contorted, her prettiness vanishing behind a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. She stood up, her hands trembling at her sides.
"Over?" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "You’ve been leading me on for days! You kissed me like you were starving, and now you’re just done? You think you can just discard me like a broken quill?"
'Yes,' he thought, but he stayed silent.
"You're a monster, Sebastian Sallow!" Grace spat, stepping into his space. "Everyone says you're troubled, but you're just cruel."
Sebastian flinched at the word "cruel," but he kept his face a mask of indifference. He watched as she gathered her things, her eyes wet with angry tears.
She turned and marched away, the heels of her shoes clicking sharply against the stone. Sebastian watched her go, feeling a strange mixture of relief and a lingering, cold dread. Grace Pinch-Smedley was shallow, but she was also vindictive.
Half an hour later, Sebastian walked into the Great Hall for lunch. He spotted Ominis already seated at the Slytherin table, a space cleared around him as usual. Sebastian slid into the seat opposite his friend, grabbing a green apple and buffing it against his sleeve.
Ominis didn't even look up from his plate. "The air around you has regained its usual scent of bitterness," Ominis noted, his voice dripping with sass. "I take it the floral perfume has been... permanently removed from the equation?"
Sebastian bit into the apple, the crunch loud in the quiet space. "It’s over, Ominis. I got bored."
"Bored?" Ominis echoed, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "How shocking. And here I thought the two of you were destined for a lifetime of discussing the Malfoys' tea service. I assume the breakup was as graceful as her name implies?"
"She screamed. She called me a monster. The usual," Sebastian muttered.
Ominis chuckled, leaning back. "Well, at least you’ve stopped the charade. I was beginning to think I’d have to start listening to her myself just to find out where you’d disappeared to. Though, I must say, Sebastian... the 'numbness' you were chasing seems to have left you more exhausted than ever. Was the distraction worth the price of a very angry, very loud enemy in our own house?"
'No,' Sebastian thought, staring toward the Gryffindor table where a certain crimson scarf was visible among the red and gold. 'It didn't work at all.'
"I'll manage," Sebastian said aloud.
"I’m sure you will," Ominis replied, his tone turning serious for a split second. "Just try not to pick up another 'shield' before the first one’s finished throwing hexes at your back."
