The cheers echoed through the stadium as Slytherin claimed victory over Hufflepuff. Green and silver flags waved in the air, students shouting and clapping in celebration.

You didn’t hesitate.

You sprinted across the field toward Theo, your heart pounding with excitement. He stood near the goalposts, broom in hand, his hair tousled and sweat clinging to his skin—but that familiar smirk was on his face the moment he saw you.

You threw your arms around him, and he caught you effortlessly—one arm looping around your waist, the other still gripping his broom. You pressed your lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss, feeling his grin grow against yours before he finally pulled away, both of you breathless and smiling.

“I’ll meet you back in the common room,” he said with a wink, heading off to the locker rooms with Mattheo beside him. “We’re gonna throw the best bloody party Slytherin’s seen all year.”

You laughed and let him go, still buzzing from the win—and from the kiss.

Later, outside the common room, you stood in the corridor with Pansy, chatting and waiting for Theo to come back. The two of you leaned against the wall, talking about the match, the party, and who might sneak in the best Firewhisky.

Then you saw them—Theo and Mattheo walking down the hall.

Your heart lifted, a smile forming on your face.

Until she appeared.

Out of nowhere, Lavender Brown—Gryffindor’s most persistent flirt—ran up behind them. Before anyone could react, she threw herself at Theo, grabbing his robes and planting her lips on his.

Your smile vanished. Your eyes widened. And then your blood boiled.

Even Mattheo looked stunned, his brows furrowed as he turned to his best friend, clearly irritated. He liked you and Theo together. And he definitely didn’t like her.

You were already storming forward, fists clenched at your sides—but Pansy grabbed your arm at the last second, stopping you.

“Breathe,” she hissed. “I want to see you knock her out too, but maybe… don’t get expelled today.”

Across the hall, Theo shoved Lavender back hard enough to make her stumble.

“What the hell, Lavender?” he snapped, his Italian accent thicker now—laced with sharp irritation. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like her kiss had left a stain.