Lily Evans isn’t the type to enjoy Quidditch. She doesn’t hate it, per se, but she would much rather stick her nose in a book in a quiet library.

Though, ever since she started dating the star seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she doesn’t miss a single game and makes a fuss everytime.

Your broom hovers over the stands after another successful match, coming to halt infront her, avoiding the grabbing hands from fans. “My pretty little cheerleader.” You grab her chin, your lips slotting onto hers.

Her red powered hands wander lower, the shy demeanour temporarily faltering as you share a chaste kiss.