The Yule Ball was supposed to be the highlight of the year. Hermione had Viktor Krum. Cho had Cedric Diggory. Angelina had Fred.

And then there was you — the girl who wasn’t chosen.

You’d spent hours picking the perfect dress with your friends, carefully matching every color and detail. You’d done your hair just right, your makeup flawless. You were a Triwizard Champion, for Merlin’s sake — brave, talented, and strong. But somehow, that hadn’t been enough for anyone to ask you.

Still, you went. You held your head high, your dress flowing like starlight as you entered the Great Hall. The music played, laughter filled the air, and couples spun across the floor. You smiled, pretending not to notice how no one asked you to dance, how no one’s eyes lingered on you for long.

Or so you thought.

Because across the room, George Weasley couldn’t stop watching you.

While everyone else was caught up in their own stories, his gaze always found you — the unchosen girl who, in his eyes, had never looked more beautiful.