Unrepentant

They were in the house before Sebastian could say a single word. Her home was different to Ominis' apartment. It seemed warmer now then it had before, and he began to notice the faint smell of mallowsweet and lavender.
"What happened with Ominis?" She spoke quietly, although she was afraid of the answer. She remained facing the wall in front of him. And he stood for a moment in silence, staring at the open back of her green satin gown, now peppered with spots of blood and ash. This was her. Elegant and beautiful but undeniably dirty, tarnished by battle and darkened with pain.

"We spoke."
"Mmm. He sounded upset. What did you speak about."
"You." It wasn't the entire truth, but for some reason it was all the boy could think of. He had spoken of far more then just the girl infront of him. And yet for just a moment he forgot it all.

"And what, pray tell, did you discuss?"
"I don't believe that's something you want to discuss with me." And it wasn't. Had she wanted this conversation she'd have engaged in it before. She'd had plenty of opportunities. She did not want him to know her life, just as Ominis didn't want him to know his. She had kept Anne's letter from him, hiding his sisters love for him in turn. This life she had crafted for herself, the one that seemed so much like one Sebastian had dreamt of, was one she would never show him.
"Yes well, I apologise for it then." She cleared her throat for a moment, diverting her gaze to the floor. "I had not warned him of our vist, but I needed his expertise. He knows more about the cruciatus curse then I, I couldn't have helped you as well."

Sebastian looked at her, his eyes filled with concern. He could see the pain in her eyes. He reached out to touch her back, but she flinched away from him. "You should go and change before dinner."
"And your dress?" he asked, his eyes lingering on the bloodstains on her clothes.
"I can live," she replied, but he could see the exhaustion in her eyes.
"Enola, go get changed," he said, his voice firm.
"But, I need to," she turned to face him quickly, her eyes looking at him softly.
"Enola," he reached out his hand once again, this time meeting her upper arm in a fleeting touch before withdrawing back to the safety of his own body. "Please go and change."

For a moment she stood silently, staring at the man in his dark robes.
"You look so unlike yourself in that, I hate them." she said, her voice softening.

For a moment something stirred within him. He did not know why her words felt so relieving, he did not know why she cared about his robes at all. But for just a moment he was happy. For Enola cared.

When she turned and left him he watched her. She'd learnt to slow her pace over the years, no longer running everywhere she went. But she maintained her distinctive lightness. He admired it alot when they were younger, she was quiet and sneaky, and perfectly good at hiding her personal endeavours most of which found her gracing the castle halls long past curfew. And even now it seemed she kept her trials to herself.

He sat on the leather coach, losing his bloodied black cloak and undoing the first few buttons of the insufferable shirt. He listend as the old gramophone in the kitchen began playing once again. There was always music in her house it seemed. Every morning at breakfast, every night at dinner.  He allowed himself to fall into the familiar sounds whilst he waited for the girls return, resting on her messy sofa in his torn suit. He listend as her heels knocked against the wooden floor, dashing between her bedroom and the small bathroom beside it. He listend as she muttered to herself, indistinguishable from the distance yet portraying her immaculately, passionately. He Listend as her rambling faded into a gentle hum as the music progressed, and the pots and pans in the kitchen sprung to life in the next room.

She returned not 5 minutes later. "Your turn." She looked at him for a moment, sprawled across her messy sofa, his shirt undone and the cuffs of his sleeves unfolded, and smiled.
And when he saw it, her sapphire eyes and rosey lips, he saw his love again.

And he hated it. He hated her. He hated it all.
He hated how his sister loved her, how Ominis loved her, how the whole wizarding world seemed to love her. He hated how blessed she had been, how powerful, how important, and special, and beautiful. And yet  here she stood, complaining. He hated how she threw his life away so carelessly. He hated how she wished to throw away her own. He hated how she would risk everything and yet nothing at all. For everyone, and yet for no-one. And he hated how even now, her smile made his mind spiral in the same beautiful blue sparks as the very magic that spins threw her veins.

Just as her smile appeared, it faded.
"Go change, you'll get blood on my coach." She looked at the floor once more. And for a moment Sebastian found himself wondering what beauty the floor held that his eyes did not, for it seemed she could never drag herself away from it.
"You say that like it isn't covered in scratches. How did you even manage that?"

"My bag broke" her eyes met his again, her lips pressed tightly together.
"Your bag broke? You expect me to believe a broken bag made that.."
"And Caligo got loose in the house." Her red lips once again formed a soft smile as she chuckled to herself. "I had to rewrite so many records. And that's why he stays with Poppy now."
"The big black feathery thing. That bloody things still alive!" She smiled a bit brighter.
"Of course he's still alive! It hasn't been that long Sebastian."

And it all came crashing down around him. Her smile was suddenly cruel and vindictive,  a horrid joke.
" Hasn't been that long?" He repeated, slowly rising from his place on the couch walking slowly towards the girl. "Well I'm sure it hasn't been that long for you considering you've got to live your cushy little life in you pretty little house where your biggest problem is whether or not to marry your best friend. But for me, For me Enola, its been an eternity."
"Sebastian!"

"No! No, You don't get it do you. You think you're doing me a favour. Getting me this job. You're the reason I missed most of my life. You're the reason I needed to be released to begin with." Burning rage boiled every inch of his skin. How dare she. How dare she act like nothing has changed. Like life just went on after that night. She ruined his life.

"You cast that curse, I tried to stop you a hundred times. I got you out of prison Sebastian, and I am sorry for the pain you suffered. But I am not your enemy."

He took another step towards her. Even now, despite the years of malnourishment, he looked tall over the girl. And now more then ever was he glad. He wanted her to be intimidated, he wanted her to feel unsafe. In the presence of the monster she locked away. The murder. The dark wizard. The very person she commits herself to destroying everyday. If she wanted to play the hero he would let her, God knows she'd played it well. But he would not let her her play the victim.
Her eyes darted across his face, his chest. They studied the way his hands sat firmly against his chest, how his feet lay slightly apart.
"I am not your enemy." She repeated as he once again list her eyes to the floor.

Only this time, he would not let them slip away. His hand rose to her face, lifting her chin, pulling them towards him. Inches apart.

"You are not my hero. Stop acting like I owe you something. I don't owe you anything. You took everything from me. My whole life," he leant closer to her ear. "And you never even wanted it. That's why I hate you." He retracted his hand as quickly as he had placed it upon her, pulling her body against his own for just a moment, before turning to walk away.

"Sebastian!"