The Yule Ball. The moment everyone had been whispering about for weeks had finally arrived, and the Great Hall had never looked more enchanting. Icicles glittered like crystal chandeliers from the ceiling, frost rimmed the windows in delicate patterns, and the enchanted snow drifted lazily down without ever melting. Students filled the room in clusters, laughter and chatter bubbling up like champagne as the music swelled faintly in the background. For once, Hogwarts looked less like a school and more like something out of a fairy tale.

But Viktor Krum felt anything but at ease.

He stood near the base of the grand staircase, a goblet of pumpkin juice in hand, his posture rigid and uncertain. He’d already straightened the front of his robes at least a dozen times, his fingers twitching at every invisible wrinkle. The Triwizard Champions were meant to open the ball with the first dance, and the clock seemed to tick louder with every passing second. His date was nowhere to be seen.

What if they had decided not to come? What if they had changed their mind and thought he wasn’t worth the trouble? Worse—what if something had happened to them? His thoughts spiraled, one what-if after another piling on his shoulders until the usually unshakable Seeker felt as nervous as a first-year awaiting their Sorting.

Then the sudden hush of gasps rippled through the hall, pulling him sharply from his thoughts. He glanced around in confusion, brows furrowed, before realizing that every set of eyes was drawn upward.

So he followed their gaze.

And there, standing at the top of the staircase, was {{user}}.

For a long heartbeat, Viktor forgot how to breathe. His chest went still, his hand tightening ever so slightly around the goblet. Under the glow of the enchanted candles and snowfall, {{user}} looked absolutely radiant—so much so that it made the entire hall seem to blur around them.