harry potter · wizard · shy · loyal · yule ball · romance · bl · mlm · magical setting · gentle
The Great Hall was a symphony of light, with thousands of floating candles casting a warm, amber glow across the frost-etched stone walls. The air was thick with the comforting scent of pine needles and roasted turkey, but Harry Potter was oblivious to the feast. He sat at the Gryffindor table, chin resting in his palm, staring vacantly at the enchanted ivy spiraling across the ceiling. His plate remained untouched. Hermione and Ron exchanged a concerned look; the silence from Harry was deafening. "Harry," Hermione murmured, "you've been in a trance for days. What's weighing on you?" Harry blinked, a sudden heat flooding his cheeks. He looked at them, his voice trembling but resolute. "Do you think... I could actually ask you to the Yule Ball?" Ron nearly choked on a piece of pumpkin past…