Fractures and Fallouts
Sebastian had always been patient where Astoria was concerned, but after two weeks of avoidance, he's had enough.
She was distracted, distant, disappearing at odd hours. The same girl who had once been his partner-in-crime was keeping secrets, from him, and he was growing sick of it. He thought she would come around, but Astoria wasn't just busy—she was hiding something.
And Sebastian Sallow was never one to let things lie.
After waiting outside the South Tower for nearly an hour, he finally caught sight of her emerging from class. She was quickening her pace, no doubt hoping to slip away unnoticed, but not this time.
Sebastian stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Where do you think you're going?"
Astoria barely blinked. "Oh, hey Sebastian."
"Don't oh hey me. What's going on? Why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not avoiding you. You're imagining things."
Sebastian hated it. He's not stupid. His gaze locked onto hers, searching for something—a flicker of guilt, hesitation, anything to show that she still cared. But she wouldn't meet his eyes, and that only made his frustration grow.
She brushes past him, her expression unreadable. "Sebastian, please, nothing's wrong. I'll see you later."
That was when he knew for sure—something was wrong. And she wasn't telling him.
Astoria sat in Potions later that afternoon, her mind miles away from the bubbling cauldron in front of her. She absently swirled the mixture, staring into the emerald liquid as if it might provide her with answers.
"You're even more distracted than usual," Garreth teased from beside her, his voice laced with amusement. "I was hoping the sleeping draught I made would help, but you look like you've had a rough night."
Astoria blinked, looking up in surprise. "It actually did help. It was really soothing, Garreth. Thank you."
Garreth gave her a smug grin, reaching out to brush his thumb gently across her cheek. "And yet, you've still got these dark circles. Might need to adjust the recipe."
Astoria flushed, instinctively touching her face where his hand had been. Garreth only chuckled, winking playfully. "Don't worry. You're still beautiful."
Astoria huffed, shaking her head. "It's not that. I've just been... working on something. It's been bothering me."
Garreth tilted his head. "Remember what I said—you can rely on me." He leaned closer "I mean it, Tori."
She hesitated.
She had always gone to Sebastian for things like this. He was her first instinct—always had been. But she was starting to realise just how easily he got tangled up in her problems. How quickly he made them his own. And right now... she needed clarity, not complication.
She sighed, folding her arms. “I’ve been stuck lately. Could use a fresh perspective.”
Garreth grinned. "Well, you came to the right person. Meet me after class—we’ll crack it together.”
Across the room, Sebastian had gone still. He watched the exchange through narrowed eyes—the way Garreth touched her face so casually, the way Astoria smiled at him with that quiet ease usually reserved for someone else. The way she didn’t even look back as she left the room beside him, their shoulders brushing like it was the most natural thing in the world
He was so focused that he barely registered Grace sidling up beside him, slipping her hand over his forearm as she simpered something in his ear.
Sebastian's hands clenched at his sides. A storm churned in his chest—tight and unfamiliar, and for the first time in weeks, he felt something dangerously close to panic. She was slipping away from him. And he didn't know how to stop it.
The Greenhouse was quiet, save for the soft hum of enchanted plants swaying in the afternoon glow. The air was warm and thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh herbs, a stark contrast to the cold outside. Astoria sat on a wooden bench near a cluster of potted Venomous Tentacula, absentmindedly tracing the grain of the wood with her fingers. Across from her, Garreth leaned back against the table, his arms crossed, watching her with that easy, expectant grin of his.
"Alright," he said, breaking the silence. "Out with it. What's been gnawing at you?"
Astoria let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through her hair. "I need help. Something magical—a potion, maybe a spell. Something that can reveal imprints. Magical residue that's been hidden or long-faded."
Garreth's eyes lit up immediately. "You do know you're talking to the best potioneer in Hogwarts, right?"
She gave him a look, dry and unimpressed. "That's... arguable. But you’re the most enthusiastic one, at least."
He grinned. “I'll take it. Alright then, what’s this mystery project of yours?”
Astoria hesitated. She couldn't tell him everything. Not yet. But she didn’t want to lie either. "It’s research,” she said slowly. “Something I've been looking into...connected to the work I was doing with Professor Fig. Before he died."
At the mention of Fig, Garreth sobered slightly, his playful expression dimming into something softer. He nodded, waiting for her to continue.
"It's complicated," she admitted. “The deeper I dig, the more it feels like I’m chasing something that doesn’t want to be found. There’s power in it—something ancient. But it feels... heavy. Like it wasn’t meant to be touched.”
Garreth tilted his head, serious now. “Heavy like ‘this is fascinating’ heavy, or heavy like ‘we’re all doomed’ heavy?”
She huffed a small laugh. “Ask me again in a few weeks.”
He nodded, gaze steady. “Alright. What do you need from me?”
Astoria exhaled, rubbing her hands together. She felt the weight of her own hesitation pressing down on her chest. But she had promised Professor Fig that she would share this burden. That she wouldn't keep it locked inside forever.
So, she told him.
Not everything, not about Magnus or the tunnels or the vault—not yet. But she told him the truth about herself.
About her magic.
"I have this power," she began carefully. "Something ancient. Something that most witches and wizards don't have." She studied his face, gauging his reaction, but Garreth didn't look horrified. He didn't even look confused. He just... listened.
She went on, explaining that it was an old and mysterious form of magic, the ways of which had been all but forgotten in the wizarding world, how it had been tied to Ranrok's uprising and how Fig had spent his last month's guiding her through its mysteries.
By the time she finished, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm trying to find out more about it, but I don't know if I should. What if it's dangerous? What if I'm dangerous?"
A long silence stretched between them. Garreth's gaze never wavered.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.
"Bloody hell," he whispered.
Astoria blinked. "That's all you have to say?"
“What, did you expect me to scream and run for the hills?” He shrugged. “You’re still you. Just... with extra sparkles.”
Garreth chuckled, but his tone was warm, reassuring. "Astoria, I'm not going to pretend I understand everything you're going through, but I do know this—power doesn't make someone dangerous. Choices do. And I don't know anyone who makes better choices than you."
She let out a small, breathy laugh. Garreth always had a way of making her feel better.
"You give me too much credit."
"I don't think I do," he said, shaking his head. "You're not alone, you know. You have me. And all your friends. Even Sallow, in all his stubborn, insufferable glory. And no matter how powerful you are, we'll always be stronger together."
His words settled deep within her, grounding her in a way she hadn't expected.
Astoria swallowed hard, nodding. "Thank you, Garreth."
He grinned, easy and bright. "Anytime."
She felt lighter than she had in weeks.
"Meet me in two days," Garreth said, standing and stretching his arms over his head. "I'll have a potion ready."
Astoria smiled, nodding once more before gathering her things.
Neither of them noticed the shadow slipping away from the entrance of the greenhouse— Grace Pinch-Smedley, her lips curled in satisfaction as she hurried back toward the castle.
She had a story to tell.
Two nights later, Astoria met Garreth in the greenhouse. Moonlight streamed through the frost-laced glass, casting pale silver onto the ferns and creeping vines. The scent of damp earth clung to the air.
“This feels scandalously like a rendezvous,” Garreth mused, leaning lazily against the worktable. "No wonder Sallow loves sneaking around with you so much. Exciting. Romantic, even."
Astoria barely paid him any mind, inspecting the vial of potion he handed her with a sceptical frown. "Are you sure this will work?"
Garreth placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. "Do you doubt my abilities?"
She rolled her eyes. "I just need it to do what you said it'll do."
He grinned. “It will. Trust me. Just a few drops over the surface of any magical object—it’ll glow if it holds a trace signature.”
Astoria held it up, examining the shimmer. “And it won’t explode?”
“It hasn’t exploded yet. That’s basically a guarantee.”
She cracked a smile despite herself.
What neither of them saw was the figure in the shadows just outside—tucked between the hedges and glass frame. Sebastian had followed her from the common room, unseen and silent, and now stood there, unmoving.
Watching her.
Watching Garreth.
Watching as his hand hovered over the small of her back and her dark green eyes twinkling in the moonlight as she exacted the lavender vial he gave her. He felt so secretive. So intimate.
The next morning, Sebastian didn’t wait.
He found her alone in the corridor before breakfast, intercepted her with a hand on her wrist.
“Sebastian—?”
He didn’t answer. He pulled her, fast and quiet, down a back hallway and into a dusty storage room. Only when the door shut behind them did he let go.
Astoria stared at him, breathless, brows furrowed.
“What the hell is going on with you?” she snapped.
“No,” Sebastian growled. “What the hell is going on with you?”
He paced once, then turned on her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Astoria’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You lied to me,” he said, low and angry. “You snuck off again. Without telling me. Into Merlin-knows-what. And this time—with Weasley?”
Her stomach dropped. “I didn’t go anywhere dangerous—”
“Right. You just had a moonlit meeting with him in the greenhouse for fun then?”
She froze.
Sebastian gave a sharp, humourless laugh. “Yeah. I saw you.”
Astoria bristled. “You followed me?”
“I had to! Because apparently, you’ve decided I don’t need to know anything anymore.”
“Don’t twist this, Sebastian,” she said, voice tight. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you diving headfirst into something dangerous without a plan. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
His fists clenched. “That’s not your call.”
She looked away, chest rising and falling, words trembling on her lips. “That's not what this is about—”
“No?” His voice was low, dangerously calm. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you lying to me. Again.”
Her voice softened. "...I wanted to protect you."
Sebastian let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Protect me? From what—being your friend? That’s rich, coming from the girl who throws herself at every bloody disaster she finds.”
"I didn't want to involve you—"
"Right. Because clearly, we're past that now, aren't we?" His voice was tight, controlled. But Astoria saw the hurt flashing beneath his anger.
"Sebastian—"
"You lied to me."
"I had to."
"No," His voice was cold now. "You had a choice. And you didn't choose me."
Her breath hitched. The silence between them turned heavy, like gravity itself had shifted and déjà vu hit her like a hex to the chest.
It was the same storm in reverse—like when he had pushed her away in their fifth year, when grief and guilt had swallowed him whole. Back when he had disappeared into the catacombs, back when he kept his secrets to himself. Only this time—she was the one deciding things for him.
And Sebastian realized it too.
His expression hardened. His voice was quieter now. "I guess this is payback, huh?" He let out a dry, humourless laugh. "Brilliant."
"Sebastian—"
"I can't even look at you right now."
Then, without another word—without so much as a glance—he turned and walked out.
And this time, he didn't come back.
The weeks following their fallout were agony.
Sebastian was colder than the dead of winter. He kept his distance. Didn't look at Astoria in class. Didn't acknowledge her at meals. Didn’t even say her name.
And Astoria—Merlin, she hadn’t realised how much of her daily life had become him until he was no longer in it. The Undercroft was empty. Her nights felt colder. She kept looking for him in the crowd—but he was never looking back. She found herself constantly fiddling with the bracelet he had given her, running her fingers over the delicate silver etchings. The enchantment kept her warm, but somehow, without him, she still felt cold.
At breakfast one morning, the tension at the Slytherin table was so thick it could’ve been cut with a Severing Charm.
Ominis, seated miserably between them, let his spoon clatter to his plate. “I swear to Salazar, the two of you are going to be the death of me.”
On one side Astoria flinched, her hands tightening around her goblet. She had barely touched her breakfast, her appetite long gone. On the other, Sebastian remained stone-faced, methodically cutting through his toast as if nothing had happened. As if she wasn't even there.
Ominis let out a quiet, exasperated sigh. “It used to just be Sebastian brooding, you know. One of you glowering in silence while the other made sarcastic remarks. Now it’s just… dead air.”
Neither of them responded.
He glanced between them, frowning. “Whatever happened, fix it. Because I’m one dramatic sigh away from throwing myself into the Black Lake.”
Still nothing.
Ominis sighed again and picked up his spoon. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, more to himself than to either of them. “Absolutely ridiculous.”
Sebastian didn’t react, but the guilt gnawed at him like a cursed parasite. In truth, he was a mess. He threw himself into Quidditch like it was war, into Crossed Wands like duelling might dull the ache. But he was reckless. Unfocused.
One evening during practice, he misjudged a stunning spell—sent a poor fourth-year flying across the ring. Only a last-second Protego stopped it from turning into an actual injury.
Even Lucan Brattleby had raised an eyebrow.
Sebastian forced himself to breathe, to apologise, to reset.
He told himself he had to move on.
And what better way to prove it than to let himself be… distracted?
Sacharissa Tugwood had certainly noticed how unaccompanied Sebastian had been lately and his new demeanor.
“You know,” she drawled one evening in the Southern Tower, twirling a pink-streaked curl around her finger, "Brooding does suit you, Sallow. Gives you an air of mystery. Very handsome."
Sebastian didn’t look up from his book, but the corner of his mouth twitched. He let her sit beside him. Let her laugh at things he didn’t say. Let her rest her chin in her palm and stare at him like he was a riddle she wanted to solve.
Grace Pinch-Smedley, meanwhile, was practically attached to his arm. She’d show up early to Potions, claiming she needed help with ingredients. She’d angle their cauldrons together, brush his arm “accidentally,” giggle like it was rehearsed. When they walked to class, she matched his pace. Always lingering.
And then there were the others. Girls from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor who used to keep their distance were suddenly passing him in the corridors with lingering glances. Laughing a little louder when he was near.
And he let them.
He let them talk to him. Laugh with him. He even flirted back—sometimes. Just enough to keep up appearances. Just enough to feel like he wasn’t unraveling inside.
A smirk here. A low-spoken compliment there. The casual touch of his hand on someone’s back, the way he leaned in just close enough to hear their secrets and let them think he was interested.
But it felt hollow.
Because no matter how pink Sacharissa’s hair was, or how perfectly Grace simpered, or how many admiring eyes followed him through the corridors...
His mind was always somewhere else.