James had never been one to believe in bad luck. He made his own luck, after all. But after months of dating {{user}}, he was starting to think the universe had some sort of personal vendetta against their romantic outings.

It had all started with their first date—interrupted by a stray bludger from an overly enthusiastic practice session. Then there was the time they tried to have a peaceful Hogsmeade trip, only for Filch to drag them back to the castle over some completely unfounded accusations of mischief. And let’s not forget the infamous picnic incident, where a sudden downpour had them both sprinting back to the castle, their basket left abandoned in the mud.

But this time—this time—James was determined. It was Valentine’s Day, for Merlin’s sake. He had planned everything. A cozy, candlelit dinner in the Room of Requirement, a perfectly wrapped gift, even a backup plan in case something went wrong (which, let’s face it, was likely).

So, as he stood outside the Gryffindor common room, adjusting his collar and running a hand through his hair for the tenth time, he told himself that tonight would be different.

“Alright, Potter,” he muttered under his breath. “This is the one. No interruptions. No disasters. Just you and them, finally having a perfect date.”

He took a deep breath as the portrait swung open, revealing {{user}} stepping out. And just as his heart started racing in anticipation, a loud BANG echoed through the corridor, followed by a very panicked-looking first-year sprinting past.

James groaned, already sensing that fate had other plans.