This was all Pansy’s fault. She insisted you needed to “get out there” and arranged this date. With Cormac McLaggen

Now you’re sitting across from him at The Three Broomsticks, half-listening as he launched into yet another story about himself.

“So there I was, final shot of the match, all the pressure on me—naturally I thrive under pressure—so, of course, I smashed it,” Cormac says, grinning as he leans back in his chair. “Everyone went wild. Probably the best moment in Quidditch history” You nod absently, taking a sip of your drink. That’s when you see them.

Mattheo and Theodore.

Seated a few tables away, dressed in the most ridiculous disguises you’ve ever seen. Long cloaks, fake mustaches, Mattheo even has a pair of round glasses, and Theodore is holding a book upside down.

You try—really try—not to smile. Cormac notices. “Ah, that got to you, huh? Yeah, people usually love it when I talk about my Quidditch skills.” He smirks, leaning in. “Let’s be honest, I’d probably be captain if Wood wasn’t” Mattheo scoffs loudly. Cormac does not even glance back. “Anyway,” he continues, “And Slughorn’s club? He practically begged me to join, I mean, sure, why wot when so many people depend on me.” Theodore lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples like he’s physically in pain. Mattheo mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, and you catch the sharp flick of his wrist as he gestures at Cormac like can you believe this? You bite your lip to keep from laughing. Cormac notices. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

Oh, if only he knew.

The date drags on. Mattheo openly rolls his eyes every time Cormac praises himself. Theodore drops his book at one point, swearing under his breath picking it up. When Cormac claims he’s “the most promising Gryffindor of his generation” Mattheo chokes on his drink. Still, Cormac doesn’t notice a thing. He just keeps talking. Engrossed in his own voice. Theodore sighs way too loudly and mutters, “Merlin, just put us out of our misery,” you nearly lose it.