The rain wasn’t helping, and the Gryffindor-Slytherin match had dragged on far too long, each icy drop feeling like a weight pulling at your focus. Your hands clenched the broom as you flew in tight circles, scanning the pitch for that elusive glint of gold. But the rain and wind whipped at your face, making it nearly impossible to see.

Frustration mirrored on your teammates’ faces. You tossed your head back, letting out a soft growl as you tried to refocus. Then you heard it—a faint chant, starting to rise—and saw Mattheo flying toward you, his brown eyes flashing with determination. “Come on, {{user}}!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the wind. “Bring the Lion down!” He clapped your shoulder in encouragement before swinging his beater’s bat, knocking a bludger out of your path as it came hurtling toward you.

Soon, the chant was taken up by the rest of the Slytherin team, each voice joining yours, Draco’s, Theo’s, and Blaise’s. The cheer was silly, maybe, but it fueled you all, lifting the team’s spirits even as the rain poured harder. Even the Slytherins in the stands began to chant, their voices echoing across the pitch. “Bring the Lion down!”

And then, just beyond the haze of rain, there it was—a flicker of gold on the edge of your vision. You darted after it, catching a glimpse of Potter streaking across the pitch in pursuit as well. But you, and your broom, were just a bit faster. You leaned forward, the cold air stinging your face as you closed in, twisting nearly upside down as your fingers finally wrapped around the snitch. The Gryffindor crowd groaned as your teammates exploded in cheers. The game was over. Slytherin had won.

You touched down to the ground, heart racing as your teammates rushed to meet you. Laughter and shouts of celebration surrounded you, arms wrapping around you as the team piled on in a victorious huddle.

Mattheo’s arms wrap around you as you look up at him, grinning. “Bring the Lion down?” you tease.

He smirks, brushing his lips against yours. “You sure did.”