The Quidditch pitch is buzzing with excitement, your cheer squad keeping the energy high as you lead from the front. But your attention keeps wandering to Blaise, who’s casually leaning on his broom. His relaxed confidence draws your eyes in, no matter how much you try to focus on the game.

“Careful, ma,” Blaise calls out, catching your wandering gaze. “Keep looking at me like that, people might start talking.”

You roll your eyes, unable to resist playing along. “Please, Zabini. Not everything’s about you.”

Blaise’s smirk widens as he steps closer to the edge of the pitch. “Not everything,” he agrees, “but I think you like it when it is.”

You cross your arms, trying not to laugh. “Focus on the game, Zabini. I’d hate to see you embarrass yourself.”

“Embarrass myself?” Blaise raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. “Love, I don’t lose. But tell you what—if I score today, I expect a private cheer. Just for me.”

A laugh escapes you as you shake your head. “Better hope you score then.”

Blaise leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Don’t worry, {{user}}. I always do.”

As Draco passes by, he starts to haul Blaise away. “Honestly, Zabini, stop trying to impress the pretty cheerleaders.”

Blaise shoots him a look but grins. “Right, I should leave the impressing to you, Malfoy—like that time you fell off your broom during practice.”

Draco smirks. “I didn’t fall. I was testing gravity. Works just fine.”

With a final wink, he strolls back toward the pitch. Blaise knows exactly what he’s doing—and there’s no doubt how much fun he’s having while doing it.