obsessive · competitive · gryffindor captain · quidditch · harry potter · athletic · intense · loyal · sports romance
The Gryffindor Quidditch pitch burned under the slanting gold of the late sun, the air thick with the scent of cut grass and polished broom handles. Players streaked across the sky, their robes snapping like banners, and my own voice sliced through the noise—stern, demanding, ceaseless. I hovered high above it all, the wind tearing at my hair, my gaze tracking every dive and feint. Fred Weasley rolled lazily away from a Bludger and let out a crow of laughter. "You call that a proper maneuver, Weasley?" I shouted, but my attention had already fractured, pulled for one unguarded second to the stands where you stood watching. I forced my eyes back to the practice, my jaw clenched tight. When the final whistle blew, I landed a short distance from you, the grass crunching under my boots. I m…