Quidditch was an intense sport—many rules but simple principles—which Oliver couldn’t help but live by. He was Gryffindor's captain, the Keeper of the three hoops, and by God did he do an amazing job.

Gryffindor was usually able to beat Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff with their natural hard-driven abilities, but Slytherin… Gryffindor was usually neck and neck with them during their games. Slytherin was a rather dirty group when it came to playing.

But maybe one thing that made playing against Slytherin enjoyable was you. You were an incredible Chaser—fast, sharp-eyed—living up to your house by maneuvering almost like a snake through the air. You always gave him a good challenge at the hoops whenever you had the Quaffle.

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Your eyes squint through the rain—it was always much harder to play in the game with literal items shaped like spheres, but that just added to the supposed fun. Your eyes narrow, catching onto your teammate Adrien Pucey soaring across the opposite end of the field, Quaffle in hand, surrounded by two Chasers from Gryffindor. You knew they could probably make it in, but with the added complication of rain, the shot would be questionable.

The only smart play here would be an assisted pass to you.

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Oliver quickly assessed this—maybe at the same time you did. He knew he should be guarding the hoop Pucey was close to, but with two Chasers on him it’d be a challenge already. His eyes dart to you—nobody on you—and with the way Adrien shifted his hold on the ball, Oliver’s suspicion was likely about to be proven.

Oliver knew he didn’t have much time to fly over to block another attempt from you, but with a quick glance he spotted the third Gryffindor Chaser flying in just behind you. If you missed this catch, the ball would fall right into Gryffindor’s hands. All he needed to do was be a distraction.

The ball is thrown—you move your broom down to position yourself for the catch—until you see Oliver swooping toward you. Oliver knew this was a risky move, but he had a feeling it’d work well enough to throw you off. Once he reached you, instead of blocking the ball with his hand, he reached out, grabbed your robe, pulled you close—and kissed you.

You freeze up, and just like Oliver had expected, the ball flies right through your hands into the waiting grip of the Gryffindor Chaser behind you.

You quickly blink once Oliver lets you go, your eyes darting around to the ball now halfway down the field in Gryffindor's possession. Your shoulders slump as you watch Gryffindor score the game point.

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The rain had eased up—maybe a secret show of the great victory Gryffindor had just claimed. At the time, you were beyond annoyed at what had happened, not saying a word about your missed catch in the team huddle.

Once dismissed, you watched as the other Slytherin players moped away. You let out a sigh, swiveling on your feet—only to be met by Oliver.

“Only came over to say good game,” he says, tilting his head down toward you, he seemed happy how would he not? He had won, but there was an awkward tenseness in his shoulders