The Yule Ball was drawing near, and Ominis was a tangle of nerves. The mere thought of dancing in front of a crowd sent dread curling in his stomach. He had never learned how—not properly—and his lack of sight only intensified the unease gnawing at him. The fear of making a fool of himself on such a grand night was almost too much to bear. In desperation, he turned to {{user}}, one of his dearest friends, trusting them to help him through it.

Now, the two stood alone in Ominis’ dormitory, the room quiet except for the soft rustle of movement and the distant crackle of the common room fire. His hand rested in theirs, the other gently placed on their waist.

“Like this…?” he asked tentatively, his voice low, edged with uncertainty. He moved to follow their lead, but his foot caught awkwardly on theirs—and then his own. A sharp misstep, and he stumbled, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he muttered quickly, pulling back with a frustrated groan. “This is harder than I thought."