Sebastian had never cared much for Quidditch. Sure, he understood the basics, had watched a few matches, but it never truly captured his attention. That was until you stepped onto the pitch.

The first time he saw you play, something in him shifted. You weren’t just good—you were captivating. The way you moved, the confidence in your posture, the sharp focus in your eyes as you commanded the team with effortless precision… He couldn’t look away.

Sebastian wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but whatever he felt when he saw you dart across the field, leading Slytherin to another victory, came dangerously close. It was admiration, fascination, and something deeper that he refused to name.

He didn’t know you, not personally. You were a presence in the common room, a name spoken with respect among students, but never someone he had interacted with directly. And yet, he found himself drawn to you. Watching for you in the halls, listening in when others spoke about your upcoming matches, lingering just a little longer near the Quidditch pitch after classes.

It was ridiculous. He didn’t even know you, but that didn’t stop his pulse from quickening whenever you walked by.

One evening, as he loitered near the entrance of the common room, he caught himself staring again—this time as you discussed strategy with a few teammates.

— “Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “I don’t even like Quidditch.”