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◄✩༄*∗"I thought you liked it rough?"∗*༄✩►
☼
◄✩༄*∗ I know heaven's a thing
I go there when you touch me, honey
Hell is when I fight with you
But we could patch it up good
Make confessions and we're begging for forgiveness
Got the wine for you ∗*༄✩►
— False God | Taylor Swift
【 ✧ ☾⋆☼⋆☽ ✧ 】
Y/N WAS DUMBFOUNDED.
She could've done better.
She could've flown faster.
She could've made better decisions.
There were a million different things she could have done differently to make the Gryffindor Quidditch team and yet there she was in the common room, celebrating hers and Ron's acceptance onto the team. Fred and George had swept a goblet of butterbeer into her hand and hauled her onto their shoulders; Ron was telling anyone with a heartbeat that he'd been made Keeper; and Angelina and Katie were digging through the Gryffindor Quidditch Trunk for Oliver Wood and Alicia Spinnet's old uniforms. Hermione was dozing off in an armchair by the fire, her drink tipping precariously in her hand, and Lee Jordan was writing something on a clipboard as he examined a few first years with freshly-dried nosebleeds.
Harry stepped through the portrait hole, looking perfectly exhausted with his schoolbag over his shoulder and a hand halfway through his hair. Ron bounded over to him, grinning widely.
"Guess we should let the golden girl get to her loverboy, eh?" teased George as he and Fred gently set Y/N on the ground. She turned to glare.
"He's not my loverboy, and I am not a golden girl," she said cattily, one hand on her hip, the other pointing her goblet of butterbeer threateningly at George. Fred sent her a smirk and roughly pushed her forward. She tripped over a knitted hat, concealed by a pile of rubbish, only for two, strong hands to catch her mere seconds later. Her free hand latched onto a bicep; it was firm underneath her grasp and definitely thick. A familiar cologne met her and Y/N, swooning slightly, felt her knees go weak again. She thought to herself that she could stay there all day.
"Wotcher," said Harry, grinning down at her. His grin, however, was strained and fake, like he was worrying about something before coming into the common room. "Why didn't you tell me you were trying out for Chaser? Also, didn't I tell you last year that you'd be great on the Quidditch team?"
