Under the Wishing Tree
The Great Hall was nearly unrecognizable. Garlands of holly and ivy lined the walls, enchanted fairy lights twinkling above the single long dining table where all the remaining students sat together. A warm, golden glow reflected off the ornate chandeliers, and the smell of spiced cider and roasted meats filled the air.
Snowflakes drifted lazily from the enchanted ceiling, dissolving before they could land.
Astoria felt warm. Content.
She glanced at Sebastian—noticing the way the candlelight softened his usually sharp features. His lips curled slightly as he cut into his roast, but his dark eyes flickered to hers every now and then, lingering.
She smiled.
Sebastian nudged her plate with his fork. "You've barely touched your pheasant."
Astoria gave him a sly smile. "I'm saving room."
"For what, exactly?"
"You'll see."
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “That tone usually ends with one of us in detention.”
Before he could press further, the desserts appeared—golden platters laden with steaming mince pies, glossy Christmas puddings, cauldron cakes dusted in powdered sugar, and an enormous treacle tart that practically shimmered.
Sebastian leaned back with a groan. “Of course. The Great Slytherin Sugar Heist, Year Six.”
Astoria grinned, already stacking her plate with an alarming combination of treacle tart, cauldron cakes, and spotted dick. “Don’t look at me like that, Sebastian. I taught you everything you know about smuggling extra pudding.”
Ominis turned slightly toward them with an arched brow. “Is this the part where I remind you both that last time, Sallow nearly went into a sugar-induced coma and had to be taken to the Hospital Wing?”
Sebastian gestured helplessly at Astoria with his fork. “She’s the bad influence. I was an innocent bystander.”
“Didn’t you try to sneak an entire cauldron cake into your robe pocket and end up sitting on it?” Ominis muttered.
Astoria burst into laughter. “Oh, that’s right! He blamed Peeves for it.”
Sebastian groans.
The warmth of the feast, the glow of the lights, the laughter of her friends—it filled Astoria's chest with something light and unburdened.
And for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to just be.
The halls of Hogwarts were quiet, save for the distant crackling of torches against stone and the muffled sounds of the few remaining students retreating to their dormitories after the Christmas feast. Astoria walked alongside Sebastian and Ominis, the three of them falling into a comfortable silence as they approached the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Just as she reached for the stone wall, Sebastian caught her wrist, his grip gentle but firm. She turned, meeting his gaze—there was something unreadable in his expression, a flicker of hesitation, anticipation.
"Meet me at the Quidditch pitch later," he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear.
Astoria arched a brow. "Why?"
Sebastian's lips curled into a half-smirk, but his eyes held something softer. "I want to take you somewhere."
She hesitated, studying him, but found no mischief—only quiet sincerity. She nodded.
He stepped back and releasing her wrist, pleased "Oh and, wear something warm."
Astoria watched as he turned and disappeared down the hall, a smirk tugging at her lips as she pushed into the common room. Whatever he had planned, she had a feeling tonight was going to be something special.
Astoria stepped out into the brisk December air, her breath curling into the night like wisps of silver mist.
Sebastian had told her to meet him by the Quidditch pitch, an unusual choice, but she didn't question it.
She had bundled up as instructed—a thick cream cloak fastened around her shoulders, a knitted green scarf wrapped snugly around her throat, and her leather gloves tucked neatly into her sleeves. The cold bit at her cheeks, but the anticipation thrumming in her chest was enough to keep her warm.
The night sky was breathtaking—a vast expanse of inky black, freckled with stars, their light reflecting off the untouched snow that blanketed the castle grounds.
Sebastian was waiting for her.
He stood casually beside his broom, hands tucked into the pockets of his black trench coat, his dark hair still tousled from the wind. His breath came out in soft clouds as he looked up at the sky, seemingly lost in thought.
Astoria tilted her head. "You're brooding again."
Sebastian turned to her, smirking. "I was thinking. There's a difference."
She laughs. "Well, I'm here now. What's this about?"
Instead of answering, he patted the handle of his broomstick.
Astoria blinked. "You want me to fly with you?"
His smirk widened. "That is what the second seat is for."
She hesitated, eyeing the broom. It wasn't that she didn't trust Sebastian's flying—he was excellent, almost annoyingly so—but the idea of sharing a single broom was... intimate.
Sebastian watched her carefully. "Are you scared Blackwood? I thought you were braver than this."
Her eyes narrowed.
She stepped forward and swung a leg over the broom, settling in in front of him. He immediately envelopes her with his body, his front flush against her back.
Sebastian let out a low chuckle. "Don't worry, I promise that I'll let you land on me if we fall." He teases.
Before she could fire back, he kicked off the ground, and they shot into the sky.
The flight was exhilarating.
Hogwarts became a miniature castle of twinkling lights below them, the Forbidden Forest stretching out like a sea of darkened pines. The cold air rushed past Astoria's skin, but she hardly noticed—she was tucked securely in front of Sebastian, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he steered the broom with effortless precision.
She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, the quiet strength in his embrace. His scent was warm—the usual cedarwood, worn parchment and something uniquely him.
Sebastian flew with ease, his grip firm yet gentle, the brush of his fingers against her own sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.
Eventually, they began to descend, the broom slowing as Sebastian guided them toward a small snowy hilltop, untouched and pristine, where the world seemed to fall into a peaceful hush.
At the centre stood a towering tree—bare, ancient, and strange. Silver leaves floated weightlessly above its gnarled branches, suspended in midair like soft-spun starlight.
Astoria's breath caught.
She slid off the broom, boots crunching against the snow. “Sebastian... what is this place?”
Sebastian joined her, hands deep in his coat pockets. "I found it a few weeks ago. I really wanted to show you."
She moved toward the tree, her fingers reaching up to brush one of the silver leaves. It shimmered faintly beneath her touch.
“A Wishing Tree,” she whispered.
“So, you do know what it is.”
“They’re rare,” she murmured. “Old magic. You make a wish, leave it on a leaf, and if the tree deems it worthy, it grants it—eventually.”
Sebastian shrugged, but the look in his eyes gave him away. “Worth a shot, isn’t it?”
She turned toward him, and to her surprise, he was holding out a small green box, tied neatly with a black silk ribbon.
“Merry Christmas, Astoria.”
She took the box slowly, untying the ribbon and lifting the lid. Inside was a silver bracelet—delicate, enchanted, inlaid with runes that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. At the centre gleamed a single deep emerald, the exact shade of her eyes.
She stared at it, speechless.
"It's charmed," Sebastian explained. "Wards off the cold. You get chilled so easily, I figured..." He trailed off, suddenly looking unsure of himself. "I just thought you'd like it."
Astoria swallowed. "Sebastian... this is—"
"Just put it on," he cut in, suddenly shy. "I need to make sure it fits."
She slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. The metal was cool at first—but then the warmth spread slowly through her, like a gentle fire lit beneath her skin. It was subtle, comforting. Familiar.
“Sebastian…” She turned her hand to study the silver. “It’s perfect.”
He let out a breath of relief, his grin creeping back. “Good. I measured one of your gloves when you weren’t looking.”
She laughed, and the sound lit the hilltop more than the glowing leaves. “For someone who acts like he doesn’t care, you’re oddly thoughtful.”
Sebastian met her gaze, his smirk faltering into something quieter, something real. "I care when it's you."
Her breath caught again—but this time, she didn’t look away. She held his eyes, steady and searching.
For a moment, the world around them seemed to blur—just the two of them beneath the glowing leaves of the Wishing Tree, snow falling in delicate spirals around them, the silence thick with unspoken words.
Astoria glanced away, trying to steady herself. She needed to say something, anything to break the spell he had unknowingly cast over her. Instead, she reached for one of the silver leaves and gently pulled it free.
Sebastian arched a brow. "Making a wish?"
She nodded, twirling the foliage between her fingers. "Might as well."
He watched as she lifted it to her lips, whispering something so softly that even he couldn't hear, before placing it back onto the branch.
Sebastian stepped closer; his breath warm against the cold. "Well? Are you going to tell me what you wished for?"
She looked up at him, her lips curling in that knowing, secretive smile that always drove him mad. "That would ruin the magic, wouldn't it?"
His gaze flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes. "Suppose so."
The tension stretched between them like a string pulled too tight.
Then, a gust of wind stirred the branches above, sending shimmering leaves swirling between them like fleeting embers before they drifted gently onto the snow, dissolving the moment.
"We should probably head back before we get caught outside curfew."
Sebastian steps back, as if shaking off whatever had just passed between them. "Right. Wouldn't want to ruin my spotless disciplinary record."
She snorted. "Yes, Merlin forbid."
They mounted the broom once more, and as they soared back toward the castle, Astoria clutched the bracelet at her wrist, her fingers brushing the cool silver.
A wish had been made beneath the Wishing Tree.
And though she would never admit it, she already knew what—or who—her heart had wished for.