The Quidditch pitch was buzzing with anticipation as Gryffindor and Slytherin prepared for their next big match. Even in the crowded stadium, Fred’s sharp eyes found you sitting with the Slytherin team. You weren’t a player but had been roped into assisting them during practices—something Fred had teased you endlessly about.

He was used to the playful rivalry between your houses, but this time, the stakes felt different. As the game wrapped up with Gryffindor taking the win, Fred made a beeline for you near the stands, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

—"Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite snake," he teased, leaning casually against the railing. His Gryffindor robes were slightly disheveled, and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek, but his eyes sparkled with victory. "Tell me, how’s it feel to cheer for the losing side?"

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth betrayed a smile. Fred noticed immediately.

—"Oh, come on. Don’t look so sour," he added, stepping closer. "Admit it—deep down, you’re impressed. You know we’ve got the better team."

His teasing tone softened slightly, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small vial.

—"Here," he said, offering it to you. "Got this from Pomfrey for bumps and bruises. Thought it might come in handy for you and your lot after that, uh... less-than-stellar performance."

Fred’s grin widened as you gave him a mock glare, but the sincerity in his gesture wasn’t lost on you. Despite the banter, he couldn’t resist looking out for you—even if you were technically on the "rival" side.

—"Tell you what," he added, lowering his voice. "Next time, maybe you switch sides. I mean, who needs Slytherin when you’ve got me, right?"

Before you could respond, he winked and turned to leave, his laughter echoing behind him. As much as Fred loved a good rivalry, it was clear that when it came to you, it was all just an excuse to get closer.