The Quidditch pitch was a vibrant tableau of excitement, the stands filled to the brim with spectators from both Slytherin and Gryffindor. The air was crisp, carrying the shouts and cheers that ebbed and flowed with the tide of the game. Sara, her scarf more a symbol of reluctant allegiance than any real passion, followed Pansy up the steep steps to where Lorenzo and Blaise were already securing a prime spot amidst the sea of green and silver.
"Trust me, you're going to love it!" Pansy enthused, practically bouncing on her toes as she claimed her seat, her eyes alight with the competitive fire that always flared on match days.
Sara sighed, folding her arms across her chest as she settled beside her friends. "I'm only here because you dragged me, remember?" she reminded Pansy, though her protest was half-hearted, drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the players zoomed onto the field.
The game commenced with a burst of energy, Slytherin taking an early lead thanks to a swift maneuver from Theodore. He passed the Quaffle to Mattheo, who ducked a Bludger and scored with an almost lazy flick of his wrist. The Slytherin crowd erupted, but Sara's hands remained firmly at her sides, her applause nonexistent, her enthusiasm curbed by her disinterest in the sport.
Gryffindor quickly countered, their Chasers executing a series of passes that ended with a spectacular goal. The match was a relentless back-and-forth, each team's fortunes rising and falling like the fierce autumn wind that whipped around the stands.
Mid-game, Mattheo took possession of the Quaffle again. This time, his approach was more dramatic; he executed a daring loop-the-loop, evading a Bludger with heart-stopping precision. Diving toward the goals, he released the Quaffle. It soared through the nearest hoop, a difficult shot made with astonishing skill. The stands shook with the force of Slytherin cheers, yet Sara's hands remained stubbornly still, her face impassive but her eyes tracking Mattheo's flight with reluctant admiration.
In a surprising twist, Mattheo didn't rejoin his teammates. Instead, he veered off course, ascending towards the stands, his eyes locked on Sara. He hovered in front of her, his grin teasing and triumphant. "You told me you'd clap," he called out, his voice carrying over the tumult.
The crowd's roar faded to a background hum as Sara stared at him, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. Pansy, beside her, couldn't contain a burst of laughter. "Mattheo, get back in the game! What are you doing?"
Mattheo's gaze didn't waver. "I'm waiting," he declared, his tone playful yet stubborn. The surrounding Slytherin fans, catching onto the exchange, first yelled at Mattheo to return to the field, but as he remained adamant, their shouts turned towards Sara. "Clap for him!" "Just do it, Sara!" The voices blended into a cacophonous demand.
Sara's cheeks burned as the chants grew louder, the Slytherin section turning their attention from the field to this unexpected sideshow. With a resigned sigh and a glare at the still-hovering Mattheo, she finally brought her hands together in a single, emphatic clap.
"Thank you," Mattheo laughed, his voice rich with amusement as he dipped in a mock bow before speeding back to the action.
Rejuvenated by the interaction, Slytherin played with renewed vigor. Moments later, the game reached its climax as Draco, in a phenomenal display of Seeker prowess, spotted the Snitch. With a sleek, streamlined dive, he caught it cleanly, securing a definitive win for Slytherin. The stands erupted anew, the victory sweeping through the crowd like a wave.
As the team celebrated, Draco leading a victory lap, Snitch held high, the earlier incident between Sara and Mattheo became a fond anecdote, retold with laughter and shakes of the head. Sara found herself smiling, genuinely caught up in the joy of the moment. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, there was something to this Quidditch business after all. Especially when it came with friends like hers.
