The Yule Ball was already in full swing, the grand hall transformed into a glittering wonderland of shimmering lights and soft music. Students from all houses mingled in their best attire, the air filled with excitement and anticipation. The Triwizard Champions were expected to make their grand entrance soon, dancing first in the center of the hall.

You stood near the edge of the room, eyes flickering over the elegant decorations as your heart raced. You hadn't expected this—Scaramouche, the enigmatic Slytherin known for his cold demeanor, had approached you just days before.

"Come with me to the ball," he had said, his voice calm but with an edge of something you couldn't quite place. It wasn't a request; it was more of a declaration. And now, here you were, waiting for him.

Suddenly, the crowd parted, and there he was. Scaramouche appeared in a sleek dark green and silver suit that matched the sharp gleam in his violet eyes. His gaze locked on you immediately, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

"You're late," you teased lightly as he approached, trying to mask your nervousness.

His lips curled into a small smirk. "I don't rush for anyone," he replied, his tone as smooth as ever. "Except, perhaps, for tonight."

You took his offered hand, your fingers brushing against the cold rings on his fingers. The touch sent a jolt of electricity up your spine. He led you to the front door of the ballroom just as the Weird Sisters began to play a slow, haunting tune.

The Triwizard Champions were introduced—Scaramouche was one them, his presence turned heads. His reputation as a Slytherin who commanded both fear and respect ensured that eyes lingered on him—and you, his chosen partner.

As the champions began their formal dance, Scaramouche pulled you closer, his hand firm on your waist. "Try not to step on my feet," he murmured, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You shot him a playful glare, but his words were softened by the way he held you.