You swallowed down the sting of disappointment as you scanned the room and realized Mattheo wasn’t there, standing with his friends as you and yours made your way into the Ball. The very same ball he’d asked you to attend with him, his words wrapped in that familiar charm and confidence that had made it nearly impossible to refuse. You'd replayed that moment in your mind so many times—the way his eyes held a promise, a spark of something rare. You’d thought you saw a glimpse of his true self behind that guarded exterior.

Shaking your head, you decided to make the best of it. Laughing and dancing with your friends, you tried to ignore the whispers from Mattheo's friends, shrugging that he was “busy.” After all, it wasn’t like the two of you were actually together, so you couldn’t exactly question his whereabouts. Yet, he had asked you to this ball, and you’d gone out of your way to look beautiful tonight, hoping he might finally take the step and ask you to be his—truly his, exclusively.

As the hours wore on, your spirits sank further. Disheartened, you set down your glass and began to make your way toward the exit, realizing your friends had already slipped away with their own dates, leaving you alone.

Before you could get far, a warm hand touched your arm. You turned to see Harry offering a gentle smile. “Hey… would you like to dance?” he asked. Though you and Harry weren’t exactly friends, he’d always been kind to you. “Pretty girls shouldn’t look sad during a ball,” he added, leading you to the dance floor.

Dancing with Harry, your mood lifted as he made you laugh. He didn’t seem to mind that you were from Slytherin; he simply enjoyed the moment. But just as he spun you around, a hand wrenched him away. Suddenly, Mattheo was there, towering over him with a fury that crackled in the air. “Hands off my girl. I won’t tell you again.”