Gryffindor vs. Slytherin—probably the most important match of the season. And you could tell just by looking at Oliver. He was more stressed than usual, training past curfew, and even his team was more tense. Sometimes, while eating, you could hear George whimpering in pain—because running eight laps around the entire field was no joke.

But you did your best to be the perfect partner. You made him food so he could focus more on training, did his homework, and whenever he had a rare ten-minute break, you massaged his back to ease his muscle pain.

And now, the day had come—the Quidditch match. Cheers and boos filled the air, the scent of Butterbeer lingered, and adrenaline buzzed through the field. You stood in the stands, cheering for Oliver as he guarded the goalposts. It was magical. You watched his face, his features tense with focus—Quidditch was his passion, and he was giving it everything he had.

After an intense game full of passion, Harry caught the Snitch—Gryffindor wins. Cheers erupted, and boos echoed in protest. But the only thing you saw was Oliver’s face, his tense expression melting into pure joy.

Normally, the players would land immediately—the game was over, and there was no reason to stay in the air. But Oliver? Oliver flew straight to you. And before you could even react, he leaned down and kissed you.

"I could never have done it without you, my lucky charm.." Could you hear him saying it softly against your lips.