The Great Hall shimmered under the glow of a thousand floating candles, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the snow-kissed night outside. Music swelled, filling the space with an elegant rhythm, and students in their finest robes twirled across the dance floor.

Harry stood at the edge of it all, a tight knot forming in his chest as he watched you. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to stay still. You were laughing, your eyes bright as you spun in the arms of someone else. Every step they took, every effortless movement, felt like a blow he hadn’t been prepared for.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That it shouldn’t matter. But it did.

Ron grumbled beside him, sulking over Hermione and Krum, but Harry barely heard him. The warmth of the Hall suddenly felt suffocating, the music too loud, the sight before him unbearable.