The sky above the Quidditch pitch was alive with motion—scarlet and green robes streaking through the air, cheers and shouts echoing from the stands. It was an intense match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the score neck-and-neck, and {{user}} was locked in a steep dive after the Quaffle when it happened.

Her broom jerked violently.

Without warning, the handle spun out of control, bucking beneath her. Panic flashed across her face as she fought to regain control, but the broom wasn’t responding. Then—her fingers slipped.

“Bloody hell—” Sebastian’s heart stopped as he caught the blur of red robes tumbling through the sky. Without hesitation, he shot downward, his broom whistling with speed as he pushed it to its limit, wind roaring in his ears.

The crowd’s horrified gasps filled the stadium as {{user}} plummeted—faster, faster—until, in a breathtaking instant, Sebastian streaked underneath her, arms outstretched.

Thud.

The jolt rocked them both as he caught her just above the pitch. She landed hard against his chest, arms instinctively wrapping around him as they hovered inches from the ground.

For a moment, there was only silence. The match above froze. Even the wind seemed to hush.

{{user}} stared up at him, chest heaving, eyes wide and wild. “Sallow?” she breathed, disoriented, her fingers clutching at his robes.

Sebastian gave a crooked, breathless grin. “You’re welcome. Try not to make a habit of falling for me.”

Above them, stunned silence turned into a storm of murmurs and scattered applause. Gryffindor and Slytherin players hovered mid-air, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief as they watched the unlikely duo.