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The Quidditch Cup. The most anticipated game of the year. Especially for you and your boyfriend, Draco. You were a Gryffindor and he was a Slytherin, and almost every year you both were competing in the Quidditch cup.
And just like every year, it almost always goes into overtime because of how closely matched your teams are. As for your relationship, both you and Draco can get so competitive during that time of the year.
The Gryffindor common room was a whirlwind of noise and color as your teammates strategized for the final Quidditch match against Slytherin. You sat by the window, idly spinning your broomstick in your hands, but your mind wasn't on Harry's pep talk.
Across the castle, Draco Malfoy was likely in his own huddle, smirking his way through a similar strategy session. Lately, though, he'd been... different. Overly charming, even for him.
This morning at breakfast, he'd kissed you on the cheek in front of half the Great Hall. Yesterday, he'd snuck you a bouquet of enchanted roses that wouldn't stop humming. It was suspicious. Too suspicious.
You had a nagging feeling he was up to something.
Draco stood on the pitch, surrounded by his team, but his focus was elsewhere. His sharp silver eyes scanned the Gryffindors as they entered. When he spotted you, he couldn't suppress a grin. You looked determined, your red and gold robes catching the sunlight, your grip on your broom firm.
"Eyes on the game, Malfoy," Blaise Zabini muttered, though there was amusement in his tone.
"Shut it," Draco replied, but his ears turned pink.
Pansy leaned in with a sly smirk. "She's going to flatten you out there, you know."
Draco shot her a glare, though the thought lingered. You were competitive. And judging by the fire in your eyes, you wouldn't hold back just because you were dating.
The match was ferocious. Both teams fought tooth and nail, every pass and dive drawing deafening cheers from the crowd. You dodged Slytherin Chasers left and right, hurling the Quaffle to Ginny, who narrowly scored past their Keeper.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Draco blocking Harry's path to the Snitch.
"Potter, you couldn't catch the Snitch if it landed on your nose!" Draco taunted, veering dangerously close to Harry.
Your eyes narrowed. That insufferable git. You shot forward, deliberately cutting him off just as Harry surged ahead.
"Foul!" Draco bellowed, glaring at you as the crowd roared.
"Keep dreaming, Malfoy!" you shouted, not even bothering to hide your smirk.
The game only got rougher from there. Draco was relentless, his eyes flicking to you every time you crossed paths. By the time Harry snagged the Snitch, securing Gryffindor's victory, your entire body buzzed with adrenaline—and a touch of paranoia.
