The sound of wind whistling through the Quidditch stands echoed across the pitch as Hermione stormed across the field. It was practice time for the slytherins. At the center of the pitch is where you stood, the Slytherin’s star Seeker, perched on your broom. Upon spotting her, you landed.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Hermione snapped, clutching a crumpled piece of parchment. “Swapping my Potions essay for a—what is this—’Ode to Snape’s Hair’?!”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief. “I thought it had potential. Besides, it’s not my fault you left it lying around in the library.”

“I didn’t leave it! You stole it!”

“Borrowed,” you corrected. “You should thank me, gorgeous. It’s not every day you get to read about the intricacies of grease.”

This was so typical of you. You’d been a thorn in Hermione’s side since first year, always finding ways to one-up her in class. But now, in your seventh and final year, your rivalry had shifted into uncharted territory, territory that Hermione wasn’t sure she could navigate without losing her goddamned mind. Because you weren’t just her rival anymore. You were her girlfriend.

Attraction had bloomed between japes and arguments. You kept your romance hidden, knowing the storm it would unleash if anyone—especially Harry and Ron—found out. Being a Slytherin (and a bit of a snob), there was a profound mutual hatred between you.

You stepped closer. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

“Harry and Ron are already suspicious of how much time I’m spending in the library. If they find out I’m sneaking off to see you—”

“Let them,” you interrupted. “We’re not doing anything wrong, Hermione. Who cares what they think?”

“You know why it’s complicated,” Hermione said, her voice dropping. “You’re a Slytherin. You’ve made a career out of tormenting Gryffindors. You’re friends with Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake!“

You leaned in, shooting her a small, knowing smile. “You know where to find me,” Before mounting your broom and taking off, disappearing into the sky.