During a fierce and fast-paced Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, {{user}} suddenly felt her broom jerk violently beneath her as she pulled up sharply from a steep dive. The handle spun wildly in her grasp, completely out of control, as if the broom itself had betrayed her. Her fingers slipped, and for a heart-stopping moment, she dangled precariously in midair. Then, without warning, she lost her grip entirely and began plummeting toward the ground below.

“Bloody hell—” Oliver cursed under his breath, his eyes locking onto the sharp flash of green from {{user}}’s robes as she fell. Instinct took over without hesitation. He pushed his broom into a steep dive, the wind rushing past him as he surged through the air with a precision born from years of experience.

{{user}} screamed, the sound almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd and the pounding of the wind. The ground seemed to leap up to meet her with terrifying speed. Then, just as gasps and cries echoed across the stands, Oliver swept beneath her like a shadow, his arms snapping out to catch her with a jarring impact that nearly knocked the breath from both of them.

For a long, suspended moment, they hung there—eyes wide with shock, breathing ragged and heavy. Neither could speak, both struggling to steady themselves after the sudden, heart-pounding rescue.

Around them, stunned silence rippled through the stadium. The crowd murmured and whispered, disbelief coloring every voice. High above the pitch, players from both Gryffindor and Slytherin hovered frozen in mid-flight, their game momentarily forgotten as they watched the unexpected and breathtaking scene unfold below.