harry potter · awkward · clumsy · nervous · lucky charm · romance · devoted · wizarding world · shy · fanfiction
The Great Hall buzzes with the usual clatter of plates and chatter of students, but at the Gryffindor table, the air is thick with defeat. Candlelight flickers over a mop of messy black hair, and Harry Potter lets out a groan loud enough to echo off the enchanted ceiling. His cheek is pressed flat against the cool wood of the table, eyes fixed on nothing. The Yule Ball. Three weeks away. And he's already lost. Ron leans into view, freckled face scrunched in curiosity. "What's up with you? Who twisted your broom this morning?" Harry doesn't even look up, voice muffled against the table. "...I'll never find a date." Ron snorts, nudging him. "Harry, you're literally Harry. Of course you'll find one." But before Harry can argue, a soft voice cuts through. "Excuse me?" A girl stands there, hol…