The Aftermath
Sebastian woke with a groan, the sharp pang of pain lancing through his skull making him grit his teeth. His body ached, but the soft sheets beneath him were far more comfortable than the hard ground he last remembered hitting. It didn't take him long to register where he was—the Hospital Wing. The scent of Wiggenweld potions and the faint rustle of Nurse Blainey shuffling around confirmed it.
Then, he noticed the weight beside him.
Golden-brown hair sprawled messily over his blanket, the familiar scent of wildflowers and parchment filling the air around him. Astoria. She was fast asleep in the chair next to his bed, still wearing his Quidditch jersey.
Sebastian stared for a moment; his mind sluggish but keenly aware of the warmth settling in his chest. How long had she been here?
As he shifted to sit up, a sharp pain shot through his ribs, and he groaned louder than intended. The sound stirred Astoria.
Her green eyes fluttered open, blinking sleep away before immediately widening. "Sebastian!"
"Morning," he said, voice hoarse but teasing. "Or... afternoon? How long have I been out?"
"Just the night," she answered, sitting up straight. "They brought you here after the match."
Sebastian let out a long groan, memories of the match hitting him all at once—the lost Snitch, the Gryffindor victory, and worst of all, Garreth bloody Weasley with his insufferable grin.
"I can already hear the gloating," he muttered. "Losing to Gryffindor... of all teams."
"Well," Astoria mused, lips curving mischievously, "Maybe next time, don't fall off your broomstick?"
Sebastian scoffed. "How did that happen anyway? It was a tough loss but I don't recall trying to off myself."
A furious look of disdain fell over Astoria's face "It was that dirty Gryffindor Beater with the big nose, Owens Bickle. That downright twat—rammed his broomstick into you after the whistle already blew."
"The bastard..." Sebastian smirks, making a mental note to settle the score with him later. But for now, he wasn't mad—because the look on Astoria's face as she berated the poor fellow was quite possible the most endearing thing he's seen all year.
"I also specifically recall telling you to come back in one piece." Astoria looks at his casted arm in mock outrage. "Your talent for rule breaking seems to be a highly transferrable skill."
"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents." Sebastian winks.
Astoria laughs, her voice ringing like music to his ears.
Before their playful bickering could continue, Nurse Blainey appeared, arms crossed, unimpressed as always when it came to Sebastian.
"You're awake," she noted, giving him a quick once-over. "Your injuries weren't too severe, but you'll need to take it easy. No flying for a month, and nothing strenuous. Light activities only."
Sebastian groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "Light activities? What does that even mean?"
"It means no duelling, no flying and absolutely no sneaking into places you shouldn't be!"
Sebastian muttered something under his breath, but Astoria shot him a warning look, making him wisely keep his complaints to himself.
As soon as the nurse left, Sebastian scanned the bedside table, eyes widening at the overwhelming collection of gifts and letters wrapped in green and silver.
"What's all this?" he asked, brows furrowing.
Astoria rolled her eyes. "From your adoring fans, of course. You should've seen it yesterday—swarming like Cornish Pixies, showering you with ‘tributes’ like you were some sort of fallen war hero."
Sebastian smirked, clearly entertained. "And where’s your tribute, then?" He lifted his chin expectantly.
Astoria huffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, please. My gift is tolerating you on a daily basis. That level of patience is priceless."
"And I wouldn't ask for anything more."
Astoria looks away to hide her embarrassment "Git," she muttered. Before she could say anything more, Ominis’s dry voice cut through the air. “You're lucky, Sallow. Had your injuries been any worse—we’d be scraping Bickle off the courtyard floor after Astoria is done with him.”
Sebastian flashes him a grin. "Ominis."
Poppy and Natty followed closely, both offering smiles as they approached his bed with flowers and a gift bag. "You look better than I expected," Poppy noted, crossing her arms.
Natty nodded. "I must admit, when I saw your fall, I feared you would be much worse."
Sebastian let out a dramatic sigh. "I am in terrible shape. So terrible, in fact, Nurse Blainey said I may never recover…unless, of course, someone were to fetch me a selection of Honeydukes' finest. Strictly medicinal, of course."
Astoria snorted. "Miraculous how your appetite survived the ordeal."
"None of those, I'm afraid," Natty said, shaking her head. "But we brought chocolate frogs and sugar quills, and Garreth asked us to pass on some calming draught he brewed this morning. Said it might help you get some rest."
Sebastian scrunches his nose in distain "I'd honestly rather drown myself in the Black Lake before I drink anything Weasley brews. It would surely be a less painful death."
They laugh.
Astoria, still standing beside the bed, suddenly felt Ominis's attention shift toward her. "Speaking of, I couldn't help but notice... still wearing his jersey, Astoria?"
Heat crept up her neck as she crossed her arms. "I didn’t exactly have time to waltz back to the dorms for a wardrobe change, Ominis," she said, a touch too defensive.
Sebastian smirked "She just can't bear to part with me."
Ominis chuckled. "I suppose that explains why she stayed the entire night as well."
Astoria gasped, glaring at him. "Ominis!"
Poppy and Natty both giggled, and Sebastian simply looked far too pleased with himself.
The week following the match was filled with lingering tension and relentless gloating from Gryffindor. The rivalry had only intensified—Slytherins were still bitter about the loss, and Gryffindors wasted no opportunity to boast about their victory.
Imelda was on the warpath, furious about the defeat, while Jerome Hemlock, Slytherin's Seeker, had been sulking all week, blaming himself for missing the Snitch by mere inches.
Meanwhile, Sebastian, now back in classes, had yet to let go of the cheap shot from Owens that had knocked him off his broom. He muttered about revenge almost daily, and Astoria had caught him practicing Bludger swings with far too much enthusiasm during his free time. She had half a mind to remind him that they still had an entire season ahead, but the sheer determination in his dark eyes told her it was a lost cause.
She had managed to avoid most of the obnoxious boasting, but one afternoon, while reading alone in the courtyard, a group of seventh-year Gryffindor—one of them from the Quidditch team—approached her.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sandy hair and an infuriatingly smug grin. "Blackwood, isn't it?"
Astoria didn’t bother looking up right away. "You already know the answer to that," she said flatly, finally lifting her gaze. She recognized him as the Keeper for Gryffindor. Jenkins Something-or-Other.
Jenkins chuckled, rocking back on his heels. "Fair enough. Hard not to notice you at the match, though. Slytherin’s loss looked particularly brutal from the stands."
Another boy, this one with dark curls and a cocky smirk, nudged him. "Yeah, you lot looked real pretty in green—especially when Sallow was eating dirt. Maybe you should try a little more red next time. Might help you keep up."
Astoria exhaled sharply through her nose, a mix of amusement and exasperation. "So, which is it? Are you flirting with me, or just here to stroke your own egos?"
The group snickered, exchanging glances. "Can’t it be both?"
Astoria was about to retort when a familiar presence slid into view.
Garreth Weasley casually draped an arm over her chair, his grin all teeth, yet entirely unimpressed.
"Now, now, Reggie," he drawled, tone light but undercut with challenge. "Already taking another shot at a Slytherin so soon after the match? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be chivalrous. Or did that Quidditch win knock all the manners out of you?"
Jenkins grinned, unbothered. "Ah, Weasley. Didn’t know you were Slytherin's guard dog now. Should we be worried?"
Garreth’s grip on the back of her chair tightened just slightly. "Nah," he said breezily. "Just looking out for a friend. Merlin knows Astoria's got better things to do than entertain sore winners."
The group exchanged glances before awkwardly muttering excuses and slipping away.
Astoria snorted, closing her book.
"Reginald Jenkins. Not bad with a Quaffle, but terrible with women."
Garreth shrugged. "Also, I'm...sorry about what happened to Sebastian. They're my housemates, but I know there are lines that shouldn't be crossed."
"That's alright. But if I see Owens again, I won’t need a wand to make him regret it."
"By all means, and if you need a getaway broomstick – I will be waiting."
She smiles at him, Garreth always seems to have an uncanny talent for lightening up her mood. "Are you sure? Now that I have been enlightened by how brave and strong you Gryffindors are, I might fancy making myself some new friends." She teased.
"That won't do," Garreth said smoothly, flashing his signature dimples. "Can't have you making anymore Gryffindor friends I'm afraid, the quota is full. Two is plenty."
Astoria rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
Then, Garreth reached into his pocket, pulling out a deep crimson ribbon.
"You do remember our bet, don't you?" he said cheerfully. "I won, Astoria. And that means you have to take this."
Astoria sighed, rubbing her temples. "Garreth—" She wanted to remind him that his childish squabble was with Sebastian and she never really promised him anything.
But then he hit her with the puppy-dog eyes.
She groaned. "Fine. Hand it over."
Garreth beamed, dramatically placing the ribbon in her hands like it was a prized possession. "It suits you already."
Astoria raised an eyebrow. "You’re making that call before I’ve even worn it?"
Garreth shrugged. "What can I say? I have an eye for these things."
Then, with a bright grin, he straightened. "You know, we really should celebrate. Three Broomsticks this weekend?"
Astoria narrows her eyes. "Garreth—"
"It's decided, then!" he cut her off before she could protest, darting off with a laugh.
Astoria sighed, shaking her head. What had she just agreed to?
Sebastian sat slouched in a dark green leather chair by the dimly lit fireplace, arms crossed, a deep scowl on his face. Across from him, Ominis Gaunt sat calmly, flipping through a book, seemingly unaffected by his friend's brooding.
Sebastian exhaled sharply, gripping the armrest. "Gryffindors—swaggering about like the castle was built just to house their egos, all muscle and not a lick of sense between them..."
Ominis hummed in mild amusement. "You've have it out for Weasley all day, Sebastian. It's getting excessive."
Sebastian shot him a dark look. "Oh, I'm sorry. Should I just sit by and watch him make a spectacle out of himself while he flirts with Astoria in broad daylight? Did someone Obliviate his dignity, or is he just that delusional to think he actually stands a chance?"
Ominis turned a page, completely unfazed. "Oh, don't be jealous, she spent the entire Quidditch game in your jersey. I'd say you're still ahead."
"I'm not—"
"Jealous. Yes, I can see that." Ominis snorts.
Sebastian groaned, hurling another log into the crackling fire with unnecessary aggression. His jaw tightened as the image of Garreth's ribbon, neatly tied to the strap of Astoria's bag, resurfaced in his mind.
Ominis set his book down, fixing his unfocused, but eerily perceptive gaze in Sebastian's direction. "Alright, I'll bite. Why does this really bother you so much?"
Sebastian stiffened. His mind raced for an answer, something casual, dismissive, something that wasn't the truth.
But the truth was suffocating him.
The truth was that Astoria had completely, utterly unravelled him.
She had stormed into his life last year like a force of nature, her sharp wit and fearless spirit crashing through the walls he'd spent a lifetime fortifying. She matched him blow for blow, in magic, in words, in ambition.
And now—now he was plagued by this infuriating, intoxicating pull toward her.
He couldn't breathe when she was near. And when she wasn't, he couldn't think about anything else.
So why did it bother him?
Because he wanted her.
Because Garreth wanted her too.
And Sebastian had never been the type to lose.
But he couldn't say any of that. Not to Ominis. And definitely not to her.
So instead, he leaned back in his chair, forced an exasperated sigh, and muttered, "Because he's a Gryffindor."
Ominis rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Right. That must be it."
Sebastian said nothing, just stared into the crackling fire, the weight of his own feelings pressing in on him like a vice.