The Dark Slytherin (Trilogy)

Ch 23- The Inter-House Quidditch Cup

The Quidditch pitch was a storm of excitement as students from every house filled the stands, eager to witness the most anticipated match of the year—the final showdown between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Banners in green and silver waved proudly alongside red and gold as the cheers of hundreds of students echoed across the pitch. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of rivalry and anticipation that crackled like static.

Hadrian found himself in the Slytherin stands, sandwiched comfortably between Daphne and Tonks. The two witches had taken it upon themselves to ensure that he was never left alone for long, and today was no exception. Daphne, with her cool confidence, sat close enough that their knees brushed, while Tonks, her hair a bright shade of electric pink today, leaned in close on his other side, her arm occasionally brushing his as she shifted in her seat.

Hadrian could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, though he tried to play it off as nonchalance. It wasn't just the proximity of the two attractive witches that had him flustered—it was the way they seemed to be doing it deliberately, the way their touches lingered just a bit too long to be accidental, the way their eyes sparkled with unspoken mischief.

"Excited for the match?" Daphne asked, her voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down Hadrian's spine. She tilted her head slightly, her icy blue eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. The corners of her mouth twitched up in a small, knowing smile, as if she could sense the effect she had on him.

"Of course," Hadrian replied, though his voice came out slightly more strained than he intended. He cleared his throat and tried again, hoping to regain some semblance of composure. "It's going to be a close one, I think. Both teams are at the top of their game."

Tonks, ever the playful one, leaned in even closer, her breath warm against Hadrian's ear. "And which team are you rooting for, Hadrian?" she teased, her voice a low purr that sent another wave of heat rushing to his face. "Slytherin or Gryffindor?"

Hadrian smirked, trying to play along with their game despite the butterflies in his stomach. "I'm sitting with Slytherin, aren't I?"

Tonks chuckled, a light, musical sound that made Hadrian's heart skip a beat. "Good answer. But don't think that lets you off the hook, mister. We'll be watching you closely."

Hadrian felt a shiver run down his spine at her words, though whether it was from excitement or nerves, he couldn't quite tell. He cast a glance at Daphne, who was still watching him with that same enigmatic smile, and felt a sudden urge to say something clever, something that would make them both laugh. But before he could come up with anything, the captains of the two teams—Marcus Flint for Slytherin and Oliver Wood for Gryffindor—stepped forward to shake hands.

The crowd's cheers rose to a deafening roar as the two captains approached each other, their expressions grim and determined. Flint, with his broad shoulders and trademark sneer, looked every bit the ruthless competitor he was known to be. Wood, on the other hand, was a picture of focused intensity, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he extended his hand.

They shook hands firmly, the tension between them almost palpable, before stepping back to join their teams. The referee, Madam Hooch, blew her whistle sharply, signaling the start of the match.

"And they're off!" boomed the voice of the commentator, Lee Jordan, as the players shot into the sky, their broomsticks cutting through the air like arrows. The Quaffle was released, and the game began in earnest.

Hadrian's eyes were glued to the action, but it was difficult to concentrate with Daphne and Tonks so close. He could feel every brush of their skin against his, every time one of them shifted closer or leaned in to make a comment. It was distracting, to say the least, and Hadrian found himself more aware of their presence than the game unfolding before him.