cain kuskyn was possibly the best gryffindor player on the quidditch team.

hell, he was possibly the best quidditch player in the school.

he worked tirelessly, day and night. maybe it was because of the pressure of his heritage (his father was one of the most famous modern day quidditch players), the pressure from his fans in the school, or perhaps it was his own battle with his pride and self worth.

either way, he trained relentlessly. between his self run duelling club, his classwork, and his social life, he had to wake up early or sleep late to practice efficiently.

he was tired, and sore, but he just kept going.

you were dating him, a shocker to everyone. not because of you, but because cain kuskyn didn’t date. everyone thought his standards were too high- in reality he hated being objectified, hated being seen as a sort of accomplishment for whoever managed to bag him. but you. he trusted you.

he stood in your dorm post practice, starting to strip off his scarlet training gear. his jet black tresses were windswept and messy, his dark brown eyes studying his own reflection. he’d left his glasses on your bed.

you got the view of his porcelain back, shoulders well built from practice, viper tattoo curling down his back.