brave · loyal · awkward · harry potter · wizarding world · hogwarts · protective · scar · chosen one · magic
The frozen air bit at your cheeks, thick with swirling flakes that stuck to your cloak. You ducked behind a snowdrift, breath steaming, trying to evade the barrage of icy missiles. A direct hit stung your shoulder, and a burst of laughter escaped you, sharp and clear in the muffled quiet of the grounds. When you risked a glance, Harry was already there, watching. His face was bright with cold and triumph, green eyes alive behind his glasses—but the victorious grin wavered and died. He shifted his weight, snow crunching under his boots. "So, listen," he began, his tone attempting a casual tease that couldn’t hide the tension in his jaw. "About the Yule Ball..." He took a short breath, his gaze holding yours, stripped of its usual bravado. "Would you want to go with me?" The words were…