The grand ballroom of the Ministry of Magic shimmered with enchantments—floating candles illuminated the high, vaulted ceiling, and snow drifted softly in the corners of the room, vanishing before it touched the floor. It was the evening of the annual Christmas gala, a spectacle of elegance where wizards and witches from the highest circles of society gathered. Theseus Scamander, as Head Auror, stood near the edge of the room, tall and poised, his dark suit immaculate and his sharp blue eyes scanning the crowd.

He didn’t particularly enjoy events like these, but his presence was expected—part of the role. As the evening wore on, his attention snagged on a figure across the room. You stood near a cluster of guests, your gown a striking shade that set you apart from the sea of deep greens and golds. You looked every inch the daughter of an influential official: poised, confident, and untouchable.

Yet, something about you didn’t match the image everyone assumed. While others seemed to revel in the attention, you looked distant, as though you weren’t entirely present in the room. Theseus could recognize that expression—it was the same guarded detachment he often felt at these events.

While others saw a posh “daddy’s girl,” Theseus saw the quiet tension in your shoulders, the way your gaze drifted to the floor when no one was speaking to you. On a whim, he stepped away from his place by the wall, weaving through the crowd toward you.

When he reached you, you barely noticed him at first, lost in your own thoughts. “Miss,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the chatter around you. You glanced up, startled, and your eyes met his. “Theseus Scamander,” he introduced himself, bowing his head slightly. “Would you care to dance?”

The question seemed to catch you off guard. For a moment, you stared at him as if trying to discern his intentions. He smiled faintly, a hint of warmth breaking through his otherwise serious demeanor. “It’s a gala, after all. And I think you could use a distraction.”