The Yule Ball was loud. Too many lights, too much perfume, too many voices echoing off the enchanted walls. Luna stood near the edge, her dress shimmering like moonlight, eyes distant—as if searching for something only she could see.

Then she saw you. Alone, near the corner, your robes slightly askew, your eyes tired of the glitter and noise.

Without a word, she walked over and gently took your hand.

—“Would you like to see how the Thestrals fly beneath the moon?” she asked, as if it were the most normal thing to ask during a formal ball.