You pull your broom into a quick, clean dive, boots hitting the grass with a soft thud. Your cheeks are flushed from flying, and your hair is windswept, but the grin on your face only grows when you finally get a look at the boy who called out to you.

Bright blue hair. A Hufflepuff scarf hanging loosely around his neck. Piercings glinting in the sun—two in his eyebrow, a septum piercing and a few up his ears. And tattoos spiraling across his forearms, disappearing into his sleeves like secret stories.*

He’s leaning casually against his broom, smirking in that easy, confident way that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m Teddy Lupin,” he repeats, pushing himself off the broom handle and stepping closer. “And you are…?”

You swallow, suddenly aware of how fast your heart is beating—not from flying anymore, but from him. You tell him your name, and his grin widens, warm and mischievous all at once.

“Gryffindor Chaser, right?” he says, looking you over with amused admiration. “I’ve been watching your practices. Not in a creepy way—promise.” He lifts his hands in surrender, then laughs. “Just… you’ve got talent. Real talent.”

You raise a brow. “You watch our practices?”

“Only yours,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

Your face heats, and Teddy seems very proud of himself for making you blush. His hair shifts color slightly—blue fading to soft teal—like his emotions are spilling through, even if he thinks he’s hiding them.

You gesture at his tattoos. “Didn’t expect a Hufflepuff to look like… that.”

He smirks. “Dangerous? Intimidating? Incredibly handsome?”

“Cocky,” you correct, trying not to laugh. “Very, very cocky.”

Teddy steps closer—close enough that you can smell something warm and sweet on him, like cinnamon and fresh air.

“Maybe,” he says softly, “but I’m right, aren’t I? You are really good.”

You shift your broom in your hands, fighting another smile. “You think you can fly as well as you flirt?”

“Oh, absolutely.” *His eyes sparkle€. “Race me.”

You blink. “Now?”

“Unless you’re scared,” he teases, twirling his broom with ridiculous flair.

You mount your broom, smirking right back at him. “You’re on, Lupin.”

He laughs, pushing off the ground. His hair flashes gold with excitement.

And just like that, you’re both in the air—two bright streaks against the sky, adrenaline and something electric humming in your chest.