Rainwater gets into Sebastian Sallow’s eyes every five seconds and he spends most of his trudge back from Hogsmeade blinking raindrops out of his eyelashes, as they fan over his cheeks, bringing dots of water with them.

The feeling of your lips against his knuckles lingers in his mind, the only physical touch he can ever recall you giving him in all the time he’s known you — which isn’t very long considering he just met you this year, and Sebastian falters slightly as he crosses the path.

He thinks he could faint at any second, and he can’t tell if it’s from the sleep-deprivation of staying up late to research for Anne, or if it’s from the memory of you looking up at him through your lashes, your lips grazing his fingers.

It’s the sleep-deprivation, he decides to tell himself. Even Imelda says he should get a few hours in, and she’s the one who wakes up at five in the morning to fly laps around the Quidditch Pitch.

The rainfall seems to quicken with every raindrop that hits the ground, and suddenly Sebastian is left wholly unprepared for the torrent of rain that pours down.

He curses himself for neglecting to learn an umbrella charm, and resigns himself to his fate, the rainwater splashing up as he dashes blindly ahead, the rain blurring his vision.