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The Quidditch pitch was bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, casting long shadows over the perfectly manicured grass. It was the perfect evening—clear skies, a gentle breeze, and just enough warmth to keep the chill at bay. Most students were inside, but not Oliver Wood. And not Y/N.
For as long as Y/N could remember, Oliver had been obsessed with Quidditch. It was something that defined him, something that made his eyes light up in a way that was impossible to ignore. But what most people didn't know was that Y/N had been just as passionate about the sport. From their first year at Hogwarts, they had admired Oliver's skill, his leadership, and his sheer determination to win. But what started as admiration quickly grew into something more—a rivalry, and, eventually, something far more complicated.
Oliver Wood was intense, competitive to the core. And Y/N? They matched him, step for step, play for play. It was what made their relationship so exhilarating. They pushed each other, challenged each other, and at the end of the day, respected each other's strengths.
Now, as Y/N stood in the middle of the pitch, broomstick in hand, they couldn't help but smirk as they saw Oliver walking toward them, a confident grin plastered on his face.
"Didn't think you'd show up," Oliver called out, his Scottish accent thick with amusement. He twirled his broomstick in his hand, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Thought you might be afraid to lose again."
Y/N raised an eyebrow, their heart skipping a beat at the playful challenge in his voice. They weren't one to back down—especially not when Oliver was involved.
"Lose again?" Y/N shot back, pretending to look confused. "Remind me when that happened, because I distinctly remember outscoring you last week."
Oliver chuckled, shaking his head as he came to a stop in front of them, his eyes never leaving theirs. "That was a fluke, and you know it. This time, I'm not holding back."
Y/N's grin widened, and they stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Their competitive nature sparked whenever Oliver challenged them, and they could already feel the familiar thrill of the game settling in their chest.
"You think you can beat me, Wood?" Y/N teased, tilting their head slightly as they met his gaze. "You're forgetting who you're dealing with."
Oliver's smirk softened, his gaze warming as he looked at them. He loved this about Y/N—the way they never backed down, the way they matched his intensity, his passion. It was one of the reasons why he had fallen for them in the first place.
"Never forget," Oliver murmured, his voice low but filled with affection. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you win."
Y/N's heart fluttered at his words, but they quickly masked it with a playful smirk. "Good. I wouldn't want it any other way."
