Krums were known for being fashionably late but it was something that Sevastian went out of his way to try and avoid. He especially hated being late to Potter’s Army meetings, though it wasn’t often that they had one. Much to his delight, he couldn’t say that his tardiness was his fault. He, like the young lady he was accompanying up to the hidden room, had been kept back in his Ancient Runes class in order to discuss some sort of club that the professor was thinking about running. His companion, in the form of Miss Melissa Finnigan, had purposely kept the teacher talking. Sevastian hadn’t quite understood why but as she drew the professor into conversation, he took a few moments to take in the state of the girl he’d been attending Ancient Runes with since third year. She’d definitely changed. There was an air of delicateness about her that wasn’t forced as it was with some of the other girls. She could plaster a smile on her face but she still looked as if one gust of wind could send her over. Her cheeks were peppered with some sort of cream or foundation to rid her of the bruises beneath her eyes and she seemed dependant on a little vial that brought her mood up with every sip of the golden liquid. She didn’t speak much now. Sevastian could remember a time when she’d chat to anyone and everyone, regardless of who they were or what house they were in. She was a shadow of her former self and he couldn’t quite get his head around it. She hid it well, though. By God did she hide it well.
The collective weakness in the pair of them made them targets for the maliciousness of the Slytherins that day. Sevastian had offered to take Millie’s bags, something she’d agreed to wearily, her fatigue showing through as she handed over the weighty satchel for him to place on his shoulder. She seemed to brighten a little bit without the weight, as if it was the weight of her mental turmoil being momentarily lifted off her shoulders. She smiled at him, the brightest he’d seen from her all day, and tugged his hand into hers before allowing him to lead her down the corridor and up countless flights of stairs to the Room of Requirement. Of course the Slytherins were their obstacles and despite her weariness, her tongue was as quick and as sharp as ever, firing back insults as if she weren’t on the edge of exhaustion. She’d smile at him each time she’d finished her exchange with whichever Slytherin she’d encountered. Even they seemed puzzled. She had her bite but the passion wasn’t there. The desire to outdo them wasn’t present. It was a worry that both the Slytherins and Sevastian seemed to share but the latter had no choice but to press on; the former could cast it to the back of their minds.
Sevastian’s mind was geared towards Christmas, to going home. He’d seen the grim look on many of his cousin’s faces, knowing that it was unlikely that what they were going home to was anything positive. For once, however, he was. He had been invited to his brother’s home instead of his father’s this year. Sevastian was sure that his father hadn’t even thought about owling him with Christmas details. Instead, Sevastian would spend the time he had off with his brother and his partner. The boys would no doubt get up to as much mischief as possible and Sevastian had already begun packing up his things, ready for the holidays to begin. He’d been mindlessly tittering about his plans to Millie for most of their lesson together, ignorant to the fact that it was unlikely she was going to be going home this year. She’d been enthusiastic for him though and he’d certainly noticed no different. Onlookers saw what he’d failed to, the sadness in her as he waffled about his family and his brothers and where he’d be going for Christmas. The Howlers Millie got were Gryffindor knowledge. She got Howlers, never letters. However early this week, she’d received a letter for the first time since her first year; and if that wasn’t foreboding then the students of Gryffindor didn’t know what was.
“Alright, Millie!” Sevastian’s voice chimed in the chill of the seventh floor corridor air. “Here we are!” He reached forward, pulling on the golden door handle. He smiled encouragingly at the blonde and gestured for her to go inside which, with some hesitance, she finally did. Sevastian came up behind her, pulling the door closed behind him. It was obvious that they were late but not too late. Thankfully they’d come in just behind Hitame and Sevastian was relieved to find that they weren’t missing anything. Sam definitely wasn’t Louis, though and he certainly wasn’t Miseria. Sevastian’s eyebrows furrowed slightly before he wrapped his arm around Millie’s shoulders and lead her over to where the dark-skinned Gryffindor was stood. Sevastian cringed at the way the boy had to be described but there was really no other way of putting it. By comparison to himself, the Gryffindor had very dark skin indeed. It was refreshing to see. Certainly, Sevastian was sick of his own snowy pallor. Still, it wasn’t his skin that Sevastian was focused on - well, not entirely. Clear and smooth though it looked, Sevastian knew he needed to be more interested in the words coming out of the boy’s mouth...and so he listened.
“If I may,” Sevastian held up his spare hand, the other being used to rub Millie’s arm and instil some warmth in her body, “Mr D’Eath was from Azkaban, wasn’t he? A Death Eater...if accounts are to be believed. Perhaps...perhaps...if he’s been bought by Grindlewald to serve...maybe he can be swayed to help the Order...or..or..or us. Um. Sorry we’re late, by the way. Professor Maddrool kept us back...talking about Runes. Y’know...” Sevastian laughed awkwardly and scuffed his shoe across the ground. He looked down, suddenly finding the dark leather incredibly interesting and a curtain of white-blonde hair spiked with red and green at the tips especially for Christmas created a curtain between him and the other people in the room.