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“Confringo!”
Imogen was surrounded by the wood fragments of the exploded barrels; a few still had flames licking the edges, the rest were fully charred. She made a mental note to apologize to Ominis and Sebastian for the choking smell of smoke that would linger in the air for weeks to come.
“My deepest apologies for your loss.” Natty.
“Thank you for saving us.” Poppy.
“You’re a real hero! I would be honored to write about this some day.” Amit.
Their voices had barely been an echo in Imogen’s head when she stumbled out of the Great Hall after Professor Weasley’s toast. That was an hour ago, and the Undercroft had taken the brunt of her rage at the sheer unfairness of it all.
But she had finally exhausted her anger; the sobs came suddenly and severely, shaking through her entire body until they brought her to her knees in the middle of the room. Memories of dragons and goblins, magic doorways and Polyjuice potions, fires and death, flashed in front of her eyes, and Imogen contemplated slamming her head on Isidora’s Pensieve to alleviate the migraine threatening to split her skull in half.
“We have the power to take away pain,” Isidora had said. Imogen had scoffed at the idea, dismissed it as unethical and downright disturbing. Now, curled up in fetal position on the ground, facing Isidora’s triptych, she wasn’t so sure.
“Imogen.” Sebastian’s voice. She hadn’t even noticed him opening the gate.
Her senses arrived in slow motion. A hand on her arm tugging her upwards gently. The scent of parchment wrapping around her as Sebastian pressed her face to his chest in a crushing hug. The thump of his heartbeat against her cheek.
“I’m here,” Sebastian whispered into her hair. “I’m here.”
He didn’t offer any condolences for her loss, or sing any praises for how wonderful Professor Fig was. Sebastian knew that true eloquence found its home in silence as much as it did in pretty words.
Hours later, Imogen reluctantly peeled herself away from his embrace to rub her swollen eyes. Only then did Sebastian speak, with a raised eyebrow and the softest smirk she’d ever seen. “I see you’ve been practicing Confringo.”
“I’ve gotten pretty good at it, I think.” She gestured to the splinters littering the ground. "Sorry for destroying the room."
Sebastian laughed, and Imogen cracked a smile.
They would be okay.