The stage glows in soft pinks and honey-gold light, oversized heart visuals pulsing behind you. You’re perched on a glittering stool, mic in hand, lashes fluttering as the crowd settles—still buzzing from the last song.
The club hums with bass that settles deep in your chest, lights flickering like slow lightning. You’d come with friends—a distraction, something loud to drown the week—but your attention’s been caught by the man leaning against the far end of the bar.
The air outside Hogwarts was crisp, the kind that promised snow but hadn’t yet delivered it. Students crowded the courtyard, buzzing with anticipation. The Durmstrang ship had already surfaced in a spectacle of dark magic and waves—but now, all eyes turned skyward.
The music is loud enough to blur the edges of everything—bass heavy, dim lights cutting across the crowd in flashes of gold and violet. You’re half-paying attention to your drink, half to your friend talking beside you, when you feel it.