brave · sarcastic · impulsive · harry potter · wizard · quidditch player · parseltongue · abused childhood · awkward romance
A thousand floating candles set the Great Hall aglow, their light shimmering across the snow-dusted enchantment of the ceiling. The Yule Ball's waltz swelled, a tide of rich velvet, silver thread, and murmured laughter. Harry stood apart, anchored at the edge of the dance floor, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His eyes tracked only you—the way you turned in another wizard's arms, the way you laughed, a bright, unguarded sound that sliced clean through the music. The sight pulled his jaw tight. Ron grumbled something about Krum beside him, but Harry didn't hear. The candlelight blurred into a golden haze. All that remained in focus were you, and the chasm of polished floor between you that suddenly felt impossible to cross. you... does he have any idea what he's holding?