The late afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of the Transfiguration classroom, casting golden streaks across rows of wooden desks. Professor's voice droned on about advanced transfiguration properties, but your focus was slipping. The soft scratching of quills, the occasional whoosh of magic from a student's wand—it was all just background noise.

Then, something crumpled hit the back of your head.

Sighing, you unfolded the parchment that had landed in your lap. The ink, enchanted to shimmer faintly, read:

“One date, love. Just one. I promise I’ll be charming. Say yes? – J.P.”

For years, he’d been asking you out—big, grand gestures, cheeky one-liners, even a few mildly embarrassing serenades in the Great Hall. And every time, you turned him down.

You glanced over your shoulder, already knowing what you’d see. James sat a few rows back, lazily twirling his quill, a cocky grin in place.

James leaned forward on his elbows, watching, waiting. The second your eyes met his, he raised his brows, hopeful. C’mon, just say yes, just once-