The Cost of Defending You
The evening air was crisp as Astoria leaned against the stone railing of the Astronomy Tower, staring out at the vast, snowy landscape beyond Hogwarts. The lights of Hogsmeade shimmered in the distance—but she wasn’t really seeing them.
The weight of her anger toward Sebastian had begun to settle into something heavier—guilt.
She had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince herself that she had the right to be furious, that he had gotten himself hurt over something as childish as a duel. But that nagging twist in her chest refused to ease.
She let out a long breath, watching it curl into the cold.
"Found you," came a soft voice behind her.
Astoria turned, startled. Poppy stood near the archway, bundled in her woollen coat and Hufflepuff scarf, her beret slightly askew.
“I was starting to think you were avoiding me too,” she said with a soft smile, though concern tugged at her expression.
Astoria gave her a tired look. “Not you too, Poppy.”
Poppy stepped closer, her boots crunching against the stone. “I saw what happened.”
Astoria tensed. “The fight?”
“And everything before it.”
Astoria turned fully to face her, arms crossed, not sure if she was ready for this.
Poppy's voice was gentle. "Sebastian didn't start the fight, Astoria."
Astoria stared at her, confusion flickering across her face.
“I was in the courtyard. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop—I was… well…”
Astoria raised an eyebrow. “Poppy, where exactly were you?”
“…Behind the statue,” she muttered.
“…Why?”
“I was feeding a Kneazle.”
Astoria blinked. "You were feeding a Kneazle?"
“It was cold, and he looked hungry,” Poppy huffed.
Astoria opened her mouth, closed it, and wisely chose not to ask why there was a Kneazle in the middle of the Quad.
"Sebastian didn't start the fight, Astoria. Theon did." Poppy said softly.
"Sebastian was just passing through the courtyard," she began. "Theon and his friends were already hanging out in the Quad, and the moment Sebastian walked by, they started in on him."
"They mocked him for being alone all the time," Poppy continued, "Said he didn't look so tough anymore without you around. He ignored them at first, but they wouldn't stop."
Astoria clenched her jaw.
Poppy continued, "They said he was a pathetic excuse for a Slytherin. That he lost to Gryffindor in Quidditch and now—" she hesitated. "He lost you to a Gryffindor, too."
Astoria’s stomach knotted.
"They were obviously trying to get a rise out of him, but he just kept walking." Poppy said. "But then they brought you up...and Theon—he said something—something vile."
"What did he say?" she whispered.
Poppy looked reluctant to repeat it, but after a moment, she muttered, "He called you a whore for choosing a Weasley over your own House. Said if you were so keen on switching sides, maybe he should have a go at you, too."
Astoria felt something inside her snap.
"That bastard," she breathed, fury igniting in her chest.
Sebastian's voice echoed in her mind: "Keep her name out of your dirty mouth."
“Sebastian didn’t care about any of the insults about him,” Poppy interrupted softly. “But the moment Theon said that about you… he lost it.”
Astoria stared out at the snow again, heart pounding.
Of course he had.
All this time she’d been furious at him—for being reckless, for being impulsive—but he was defending her.
Poppy watched her carefully. "I thought you should know."
Astoria nodded slowly, throat tight. “Thank you.”
She barely felt the wind as she turned toward the stairwell.
She had scolded him so harshly but all Sebastian ever wanted to do was defend her honour.
Her mind made up. She had to set things right.
And she had to do it now.
Sebastian's suspension came swiftly and without room for negotiation. He was banned from classes for a week, restricted from leaving the castle grounds, and assigned additional detention for the remainder of the month. Theon received the same punishment, though Sebastian didn't particularly care about that. He hadn't fought for Theon's sake.
Astoria had wanted to speak to him, but in the days that followed, she barely saw him at all. He wasn't in the Great Hall during meals, and he didn't attend any classes—not even the ones he could sit in for without participating. He had either shut himself away in the dorms or was hiding somewhere else in the castle. Either way, he was avoiding everyone—including her.
Professor Weasley summoned Astoria to her office.
“I won’t mince words, Miss Blackwood,” she said, folding her hands on the desk. “I’m growing deeply concerned about Mr. Sallow.”
Astoria remained quiet, listening.
“Sebastian’s always been spirited—troubled, yes, but also clever, capable, and more principled than people give him credit for,” Weasley went on. “But lately… his behaviour is erratic. Reckless. This isn't like him. Not even during the worst of it—when Anne left.”
Astoria's throat tightened. That wasn't true. Not entirely. At least he wasn't going around using Unforgiveable curses at every opportunity. But at least back then, Sebastian had still been willing to talk to her, still let her see him, even when he was spiralling. Now, he was locking himself away, letting the frustration fester.
Professor Weasley sighed. “I know you and Sebastian are… close. He listens to you. Perhaps you can talk to him."
“I’ve tried,” Astoria said quietly. “But he won’t talk to me. Not anymore.”
"Then be patient with him," Weasley said. “Be his friend, as you always have been. Sometimes that means staying even when it’s hard.”
Astoria swallowed hard and nodded.
A few days later, Astoria found herself wandering through Hogsmeade, hoping the crisp winter air might help untangle the thoughts still swirling in her mind.
She drifted aimlessly from shop to shop—browsing the shelves at Tomes and Scrolls, exchanging a polite nod with the clerk at Spintwitches—before her steps brought her to the small jewellery shop tucked near the edge of the village. Something about its quiet charm drew her in. The warm interior was lit by floating lanterns that cast soft golden light over velvet-lined cases. Her fingers skimmed the glass absently—until something made her pause.
A pocket watch.
Dark silver, its surface etched with an intricate coiled basilisk, the metal catching the light in a way that gave it an otherworldly gleam. The glass shimmered faintly green, as if touched by enchanted flame.
She thought of Sebastian immediately.
Elegant. Coiled. Quietly dangerous. It was him.
Without hesitating, she bought it.
She had just finished paying, tucking the tiny wrapped box into her coat pocket, when chaos struck.
A blast tore through the air just outside the shop—a deafening crack followed by an eruption of force that rattled the windowpanes. Screams echoed in the street. A gang of rowdy, drunk wizards had set off an uncontrolled blast of magic, sending debris flying. Before she could react, the force of the blast knocked her off balance, she hit the cobblestone hard. Pain burst through her wrist as it twisted beneath her. Her shoulder slammed into the ground, and a jagged sting bloomed across her cheek as she scraped against stone.
Shopkeepers rushed out to help. Someone helped her to her feet. Another fetched a professor. And soon, she was being ushered back to the castle, her injuries minor but enough to warrant a trip to the hospital wing.