🦁🔥

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗. [ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴇʀʀɪᴍᴇɴᴛ ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

The Black Lake
( September 1st, 1994. )

𝑻he Gryffindor girls' dormitory bathroom was alive with the sounds of laughter, hair dryers, and a faint buzz of excitement. Cassie stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the soft fabric of her dress, a rich pink satin piece that fit her perfectly. The dress hugged her figure in all the right places, with a sweetheart neckline and a subtle slit at the side. Paired with gold earrings and delicate heels, it was both striking and effortlessly confident.

Judeth, her closest friend, was adjusting her puffy white blouse tucked into a high-waisted, pastel-blue skirt. She had gone for something sweet and playful, her soft curls bouncing as she moved. "Does this look okay?" she asked, turning to Cassie with a bit of hesitation.

"You look adorable, Judeth," Cassie reassured her, adding a little gloss to her lips. "Stop overthinking it—you're going to steal the show without even trying."

In the corner, Melisande 'Mel' (she hexes anyone who called her by her full name) Avery was perched on the counter, twisting her black hair into a loose braid over one shoulder. With her dark eyes and mischievous smile, Mel had a presence that filled every room she entered. She was the fun one of the group, always managing to strike the perfect balance between chaos and charm. Tonight, she'd chosen a bold outfit—a sparkling silver cropped top paired with a short black skater skirt. The whole look glittered every time she moved.

"Alright, ladies," Mel declared, sliding off the counter and giving herself a quick twirl. "How do I look? On a scale of one to irresistible, where are we landing?"

Cassie smirked. "Definitely pushing irresistible, Mel."

"You're practically a disco ball," Judeth added with a giggle.

"Exactly what I was going for." Mel struck a dramatic pose, her grin widening.

Meanwhile, Tessa Jurau was tying up the laces on her white sneakers. She was the straight-talking, no-nonsense one of the group, with a passion for fitness and a practical sense of humor to match. Tessa's style leaned heavily toward comfort, and tonight was no exception. She wore a sleek, black athletic tank top paired with dark green joggers, her braided hair pulled into a tidy bun. Her casual look stood in sharp contrast to Mel's glittery ensemble.

Mel raised an eyebrow as she looked Tessa up and down. "Really? Athleisure to a party?"

Tessa shrugged, unfazed. "Why not? Half the people there are going to be spilling Firewhiskey all over the place. I'd rather wear something I can actually move in."

Cassie snorted, and Judeth giggled behind her hand.

"Fair," Mel conceded with a dramatic sigh. "But just so you know, if anyone spills Firewhiskey on me, I'm hexing them."

Tessa smirked. "And that's why you're my backup plan, Mel."

Cassie laughed, slipping on her heels and grabbing her clutch. "Alright, are we ready? The bash isn't going to wait for us, and I want to grab a spot by the fire before it gets too crowded."

"Born ready," Mel said, grabbing her silver clutch and giving one last twirl.

Judeth adjusted the strap on her bag, practically bouncing with excitement. "Let's go!"

Tessa rolled her eyes fondly, following the group toward the door. "I'll try not to trip over your glitter trail, Mel."

The four of them descended the spiral staircase, their laughter echoing through the Gryffindor common room. Each of them brought their own unique energy—Cassie's poised confidence, Judeth's bubbly charm, Mel's magnetic personality, and Tessa's grounded practicality. Whatever the night had in store, they were ready for it—glitter, Firewhiskey, and all.

The corridor was dimly lit as Cassie, Judeth, Mel, and Tessa crept toward the exit that led to the grounds. The Black Lake Bash was unofficial, which naturally meant sneaking out after hours—and avoiding Filch, the castle's eternally cranky caretaker, was part of the thrill.

Cassie tiptoed ahead, her heels dangling from one hand while she walked barefoot. "I don't know why we don't just put a silencing charm on our shoes," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the others.

"Because some of us don't do sneaky," Mel whispered back with a grin, her sparkling outfit glinting faintly in the moonlight streaming through the windows. "We own the moment, Cass. Besides, Filch wouldn't dare stop me. Look at me—I'm irresistible."

"Mel, I think your glitter is leaving a trail," Tessa deadpanned, her sneakers barely making a sound on the stone floor.

"Oh, come on, Tessa," Mel whispered with mock indignation. "Live a little. Glitter's harmless. Besides, Filch can barely see, let alone follow a trail of fabulousness."

Judeth stifled a giggle, clinging to Cassie's arm as they ducked into a shadowy alcove. Cassie glanced around the corner, her heart leaping as she spotted a flicker of light—a lantern swinging just down the hall.

"It's him," Cassie hissed, pulling Judeth back.

"Of course it's him," Tessa muttered, leaning casually against the wall as if they weren't all one noise away from detention.

"I say we charm him," Mel suggested, fishing her wand out of her clutch.

"Absolutely not," Cassie shot back, shaking her head. "If he sees even a spark of magic, we're dead."

"Then we distract him," Mel countered, her eyes alight with mischief.

"I'm not running through the corridor as bait, if that's what you're thinking," Tessa said, crossing her arms.

"Bait?" Mel gasped, feigning offense. "I was going to volunteer myself, thank you very much. The glitter, the outfit—it's all perfect for a dramatic distraction."

"No," Cassie interjected firmly. "We're not splitting up. We'll wait until he moves, then slip out behind him. Easy."

Judeth nodded eagerly. "I like that plan."

As they crouched in the shadows, Filch's grumbling voice grew louder, accompanied by the faint scrape of Mrs. Norris's claws on the stone floor.

"Blasted students, sneaking around after hours," Filch muttered. "Think they can outsmart me, eh? I'll catch 'em, I will..."

Cassie's grip on Judeth's arm tightened as the lantern light swept past their hiding spot. Mrs. Norris paused, her glowing eyes flicking in their direction.

"Oh, Merlin," Judeth whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mel leaned toward Cassie, her grin still intact despite the tension. "If she comes over here, I'm throwing my clutch and running."

Cassie glared at her. "You are not throwing anything."

Fortunately, Filch muttered something unintelligible, and Mrs. Norris moved along, tail swishing.

"Now," Cassie mouthed, motioning for the group to follow her.

They slipped out of the alcove as Filch turned down another corridor, careful to keep their footsteps light. The night air hit them as they emerged onto the grounds, the distant hum of music and laughter from the Black Lake drawing them forward.

Mel let out a triumphant laugh. "See? That wasn't so hard. I told you glitter always wins."

Tessa shook her head, adjusting her ponytail. "One day, that glitter's going to get us caught."

Cassie grinned as she slid her shoes back on. "Not tonight."

Judeth exhaled, relief evident in her soft laugh. "That was close."

"Too close," Cassie agreed, but the excitement in her voice betrayed her. The thrill of sneaking out, the promise of the night ahead—it was all part of what made the bash unforgettable.

The girls emerged from the darkness of the castle grounds and into the glowing warmth of the Black Lake Bash. The party was in full swing, the flickering light from enchanted lanterns strung across the trees casting everything in a golden glow. The lake itself reflected the colors of the lanterns, its surface rippling gently under the night breeze. A bonfire roared at the center of the gathering, sparks dancing up into the star-studded sky, and music played somewhere in the background, blending with the sound of laughter and conversation.

Judeth clutched Cassie's arm, her eyes wide with excitement as they stepped closer. "This is incredible," she whispered, her voice almost drowned out by the lively chatter.

Cassie smiled, taking in the scene. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs mingled by the fire, while Ravenclaws huddled near the lake, their curious gazes fixed on something someone had enchanted to float above the water. Even the Slytherins seemed less aloof tonight, lounging on the grass and sipping Butterbeer as they surveyed the crowd.

"This is nice," Mel declared, twirling in her sparkling outfit. The light caught her silver top, making her look like she was part of the party's decorations. "I give it a solid nine out of ten."

"Not a ten?" Judeth asked, adjusting her skirt.

Mel shrugged. "A ten would need fireworks—or maybe a dragon. I have standards."

Tessa snorted, shaking her head as she tugged her joggers higher. "You're impossible, Mel."

"And you're predictable, Tess," Mel quipped, grinning. "But that's why I love you."

Cassie was only half-listening, her eyes scanning the crowd. She spotted Fred and George near the fire, surrounded by their usual crowd of admirers. Lee Jordan was perched on a log, telling some wild story that had his audience in stitches. And then, by the lake's edge, she saw their fourth.

Oliver Wood stood slightly apart from the group, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dark jacket. He wasn't sulking, exactly, (no he was) but the earlier announcement about the Quidditch Cup still seemed to hang over him. His sharp gaze flicked across the crowd, and for a moment, it landed on Cassie.

"Is that Oliver?" Judeth whispered, leaning closer.

Cassie shrugged nonchalantly, though her pulse quickened. "He's probably brooding about Quidditch," she said, her voice as casual as she could make it.

"Hmm," Judeth hummed, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

Before Cassie could retort, Mel grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the fire. "Enough standing around! Let's mingle, ladies. There's gossip to hear, drinks to spill, and fun to be had."

Tessa followed reluctantly, muttering, "If someone spills Butterbeer on my shoes, I'm hexing them."

Cassie let herself be swept along, but her gaze lingered on Oliver for just a moment longer. She couldn't help but wonder if the night held more surprises than she'd bargained for.

The party was in full swing now, with the bonfire roaring higher and the crowd loosening up under the influence of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey. Cassie found herself laughing more freely than usual, thanks in no small part to Mel and Lee's relentless insistence that she join their "shots tradition."

Cassie had been lingering by the edge of the bonfire, nursing the remnants of her shots and pretending she wasn't looking for him. She told herself it was pure curiosity that made her notice Oliver Wood leaning against a tree near the Black Lake, the faint orange glow of the fire catching the sharp angles of his jaw. He was easy to spot—brooding in a way that somehow managed to look effortless—and Cassie couldn't help but scoff as she noticed the familiar curl of smoke rising from his hand.

The shots from earlier still burned faintly in her veins, giving her just enough boldness to step away from the firelight and approach him. Her heels crunched against the grass as she closed the distance, her voice cutting through the cool night air like a blade.

"Brooding in the shadows? How original, Wood."

Oliver glanced up, his dark eyes flicking to her without a hint of surprise. The smirk that curled at the edge of his mouth was slow, deliberate, and maddeningly self-assured. "If you came to check on me, Harrington, you could've just said so."

Cassie rolled her eyes, coming to a stop a few feet away. "Don't flatter yourself. I was bored, and you looked like the perfect target."

His smirk deepened, and he lifted the blunt to his lips, taking a slow drag before exhaling a curl of smoke into the night. "Target, huh? Bold of you to assume you could hit it."

"Bold of you to think I'd miss," she shot back, her arms crossing as she leaned against a nearby tree.

Oliver chuckled, the sound low and rich, as if her barbs only amused him. "You always this charming, or is it just me that brings it out?"

"Just you," she replied, her tone dry. "Congratulations."

He studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. Most girls would've blushed under his scrutiny, maybe even preened for more of his attention, but Cassie just met his gaze head-on, her expression cool and unbothered.

That's what got to him, and they both knew it.

"So," she said, tilting her head slightly, "is that what I think it is?" She nodded toward the blunt in his hand, arching an eyebrow.

Oliver grinned, holding it up like a trophy. "Depends. What do you think it is?"

"An ego boost," she said flatly.

He laughed, a genuine sound that made her chest tighten annoyingly. "You've got a sharp tongue, Harrington."

Cassie glanced over her shoulder to see her twin approaching, her blonde hair catching the firelight. Olympia's curious gaze shifted between them, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Oliver straightened, his smirk softening into something more polite. Without another word, he gave a slight nod and turned on his heel, walking away as if the conversation hadn't just left the air between them crackling.

Cassie exhaled sharply, her irritation flaring.

"Ols," she said, forcing a smile as she turned to face her twin. "Oh him? It's nothing, really." She waved a dismissive hand at Olympia's raised eyebrow. "He's just—well, yeah."

"Oliver Wood?" Olympia repeated, her voice full of disbelief. "What's going on, Cass?"

"Nothing," Cassie insisted, biting her lip and looking anywhere but at her sister. "Come on, let's just enjoy the night." She grabbed Olympia's arm, steering her back toward the bonfire before Olympia could press further.

Before they made it far, an arm suddenly snaked around Olympia's waist.

"Ladies!" Fred Weasley's voice rang out, full of mischief, as he pulled Olympia and Cassie into a half-embrace.

"Well, if it isn't the most stunning girls in all of Hogwarts," Fred declared, winking dramatically. "What's the plan, then? Ready to make this night unforgettable?"

Olympia smirked despite herself, her earlier skepticism giving way to excitement. "What's in the bottle, Weasley?" she asked, tilting her head toward the glass Fred held.

Fred held it out proudly, as if it were a priceless artifact. "Oh, just a little something to spice up the evening," he said conspiratorially. "Firewhiskey. Straight from my personal stash."

Cassie, still rattled by her interaction with Oliver and eager for a distraction, quickly grabbed the bottle. Without hesitation, she took a swig, the sharp burn in her throat grounding her for a moment.

Fred let out an impressed laugh as Cassie handed the bottle back to him, her composure unshaken despite the burn of the Firewhiskey. "Blimey, Cass. Didn't know you had it in you."

Cassie smirked, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "You'd be surprised, Fred. I can handle more than you think."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Fred replied, raising the bottle in mock salute. "But can you keep up with me and George? That's the real question."

"Don't tempt her," Olympia interjected, her voice teasing as she leaned against George, who handed her the bottle for a cautious sip.

The four of them drifted closer to the bonfire, the music and chatter around them mingling with the crackling flames. Lee Jordan joined them not long after, immediately launching into a story about someone nearly falling into the lake earlier, which earned a chorus of laughter.

The mood was light and easy until Oliver walked up.

Cassie noticed him before anyone else, the firelight catching on his dark hair and sharp features as he approached. His posture was relaxed, but there was an edge to his gaze, and she couldn't help but notice the slight haze in his eyes. The faint scent of smoke still clung to him, and she could tell he wasn't entirely sober.

"Wood," Fred said, breaking the moment with a grin as he clapped Oliver on the shoulder. "Finally decided to join us?"

Oliver nodded, his usual smirk intact. "Thought I'd see what all the fuss was about." His gaze shifted briefly to Cassie before flicking back to Fred. "Though I see it's the usual crowd."

"Of course," Lee said, grinning. "Who else would you want to spend the night with?"

Oliver shrugged, his smirk widening. "Fair point. Though I could do without thinking about how we're going to survive the year without Quidditch."

The group groaned in unison, the mood shifting slightly as the weight of Dumbledore's announcement earlier in the night settled over them.

"It's bloody ridiculous," George said, taking a long swig from the Firewhiskey bottle before handing it back to Fred. "How are we supposed to stay sane without it? What the fuck am I supposed to hit now?"

"I don't know about sane," Fred added, "but Georgie's right we're definitely not staying out of trouble. It's the only way to blow off steam."

Cassie let out a cackle, "or you could cope in a healthier way." She whispered to herself.

Oliver raised a brow, his smirk faltering just a bit as he glanced at Cassie. "Sorry, what was that?" he asked, tilting his head toward her, his tone playful but curious.

Cassie, who had been lounging back with an air of casual disinterest, straightened up and boldly met his gaze. "I said," she began, her voice carrying a spark of defiance, "that maybe you lot could cope in a healthier way. Because, frankly, dealing with your problems by smacking little balls back and forth is completely ridiculous."

The group went silent for a beat, stunned into a rare moment of collective speechlessness. Oliver blinked, then leaned forward slightly, his smirk returning but tinged with genuine amusement. "Oh, really?" he drawled. "Do enlighten us, oh wise one."

Cassie leaned forward as well, resting her elbows on her knees, fully intent on making her point. "Sure, I will," she said, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. "You boys spend all your time swinging bats and chasing after balls like your lives depend on it, and you call it stress relief. But Merlin forbid anyone actually talks about what's stressing them out, right? No, that'd be too vulnerable. Instead, it's all, 'Let's bottle it up and hit things until we feel better.'"

Fred let out a sharp laugh, covering his mouth quickly when George elbowed him, clearly torn between amusement and embarrassment. Oliver, however, held her gaze, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful.

"And while we're at it," Cassie continued, gesturing animatedly now, "can we talk about how this obsession with proving yourselves—'Who can hit the Bludger harder? Who can fly faster?'—is just feeding into this toxic masculinity nonsense? Like, who are you even competing with? Each other? Yourselves? Society's outdated expectations of what it means to be a man? It's exhausting just to watch, honestly."

Lee, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, let out a low whistle. "Damn, Cass. Don't hold back or anything."

Cassie shot him a withering look before turning her attention back to Oliver. "I'm just saying, maybe take a break from the bats and balls for once. Try talking to someone. Or, I don't know, pick up a book."

Oliver leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, a glint of amusement still in his eyes. "Fair enough," he said after a moment, nodding as if conceding her point. Then, with a sly grin, he added, "But for the record, I'd still rather smack a Bludger than talk about my feelings."

Cassie rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Of course you would."

Oliver's grin widened, leaning back in his seat as if he'd just been handed the perfect opportunity. "You know," he began, his tone deliberately casual, "for someone with such strong opinions about Quidditch, you've probably never even played, have you?"

Cassie raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And what's your point?"

"My point," Oliver said, his voice dipping into that infuriatingly smug tone, "is that you'd never last. You don't have the nerves for it."

The group let out a collective "ooh," their eyes darting between the two like spectators at a duel. Cassie sat up straighter, her chin tilting upward in defiance. "Rubbish!" she declared, her voice sharp and confident. "You think I couldn't play? I could not only play—I could be just as good as you. Probably better."

Oliver's brows shot up, clearly taken aback by her boldness, but his smirk didn't waver. "Oh, is that so?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. "You? Better than me? That's rich."

"Don't underestimate me, Wood," Cassie shot back, her eyes flashing. "Just because I don't spend my free time obsessing over Quaffles doesn't mean I can't handle myself. Give me a broom and a bat, and I'll knock you off that pedestal faster than you can say 'Keeper.'"

Fred and George, who had been silent up until now, burst out laughing, George clapping Oliver on the back. "I'd pay good money to see that," George said, grinning. "Cassie on a broom, chasing after Bludgers. It'd be bloody brilliant."

"I'd bet on her, too," Fred added with a wink. "She's got the fire for it."

Oliver shook his head, still grinning. "Oh, come on. It's not just about fire, Cassie. It takes discipline, strategy, and, most importantly, nerves of steel. You've got the talk, I'll give you that, but when it comes to flying under pressure? Sorry, love, I don't see it."

Cassie leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "Well, then," she said, her voice steady and challenging, "let's find out. You and me, one-on-one. A Quidditch match. Unless, of course, you're too scared to lose."

Oliver laughed, genuinely amused now. "Scared? Not a chance. But I'll take that challenge. Just don't cry when I leave you in the dust."

"Don't worry about me, Wood," Cassie replied, smirking. "Worry about keeping up."

Fred whistled low, nudging George. "This is gonna be good," he murmured.

George nodded, grinning. "Oliver might've just met his match."

Oliver leaned forward, his smirk sharpening into a full-blown grin. "Fine," he said, his voice laced with confidence. "I'll see you on the pitch this weekend. Saturday. 9 a.m."

Cassie didn't flinch, matching his energy with a smirk of her own. "Better get some rest, Wood," she said coolly. "You're going to need it."

Fred let out a bark of laughter, clearly delighted by the exchange. "Oh, this is going to be bloody brilliant. Cassie vs. Oliver. I'm bringing snacks."

"And Firewhiskey," George added, nudging Fred. "No way we're missing this. What do you reckon, Fred? Oliver's pride on the line? Or Cassie proving us all wrong?"

"Don't bet against me," Cassie said, shooting them both a pointed look. "I intend to wipe that smirk off his face."

Oliver chuckled, standing and stretching lazily. "Big talk," he said, giving her an appraising look. "We'll see if you can back it up. But don't worry—I'll go easy on you. Wouldn't want you quitting halfway through."

"Save the excuses," Cassie shot back, standing as well. "You'll need them after I leave you in the dust."

The tension in the air was palpable, but it wasn't hostile. It was electric, the kind of competitive energy that had everyone on the edge of their seats. Even Lee, usually the peacemaker of the group, was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"I can't decide what's more entertaining," Lee said, glancing around at the others. "Oliver's ego or Cassie's determination to crush it."

"Both," Fred and George said in unison, bursting into laughter.

Cassie grabbed her drink and raised it in a mock toast. "To Saturday," she declared, her voice steady and confident. "And to proving Oliver Wood wrong."

Oliver smirked, raising an invisible glass in return. "To Saturday," he echoed. "And to teaching you a lesson."

The group erupted into cheers and laughter, but beneath the camaraderie, the challenge was set. Both Cassie and Oliver knew there was no backing down now.

Cassie grabbed Fred and George by their sleeves, dragging them away from the group and into the shadows of a nearby tree. The laughter and chatter of their friends faded into the background as she whirled around, her face a mixture of determination and panic.

"Shit," she hissed, running a hand through her hair. "What'd I just agree to?"

Fred tilted his head, his grin practically splitting his face. "Ah," he said, drawing out the word, "so the realization has finally kicked in that you, in fact—"

"Don't know how to play Quidditch," George finished smoothly, smirking at her.

Cassie glared at them both, crossing her arms. "No," she admitted, exasperated. "But it doesn't matter. That's where you two come in. Teach me! Just the basics. Enough to hold my own on Saturday."

Fred leaned back, crossing his arms as he looked her over. "Cass," he began, his tone skeptical, "you've flown like... once."

"Twice," she corrected defensively.

"Oh, twice!" George exclaimed, clutching his chest like he was overwhelmed. "Well, that changes everything. You're practically a pro already."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't need to be amazing. I just need to be good enough to not completely humiliate myself. And maybe... maybe good enough to beat Oliver."

Fred snorted. "You want to beat Wood? Cass, that's like saying you're gonna pick up a wand for the first time and out-duel Dumbledore."

"Yeah," George added, "the bloke practically eats, sleeps, and breathes Quidditch. And you've got..." He gestured vaguely at her, clearly struggling to find a polite way to finish the sentence.

Cassie threw up her hands. "I've got determination and a burning desire to prove him wrong! Isn't that enough?"

Fred and George exchanged a glance, their grins widening in that way that meant they were clearly on the same mischievous wavelength.

"Well," Fred said slowly, "you're mad enough to try, which I respect."

"And we do love a good underdog story," George added, nodding.

"So you'll help me?" Cassie asked, her voice hopeful.

Fred clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, we'll help you."

George's smirk turned wicked. "But don't blame us if you end up eating dirt. Just saying."

Cassie groaned. "I'll take my chances. Now, when do we start?"

Fred grinned, already looking far too excited. "First thing tomorrow. Hope you're ready, Cass. We've got a lot of work to do."

Cassie sighed, steeling herself. "I've never been more ready."

But as the twins led her back to the group, she couldn't help but wonder if she was in way over her head.

𝑻he party had begun to wind down, the bonfire burning lower as groups of students either made their way back to their dormitories or lingered, enjoying the late hours. Cassie had just managed to help a very drunk Olympia up the winding staircase to their shared dorm room. Her twin, usually the picture of composure, had been giggling uncontrollably the whole way, leaning heavily on Cassie as she slurred about Fred's jokes and George's "terrible dance moves."

Cassie rolled her eyes fondly, tucking Olympia into bed with a whispered, "Sleep it off, Ols," before heading back down to the grounds. The cool air was a welcome relief from the stuffy dormitory, and she felt her own drunken haze easing slightly with every step.

When she reached the bonfire again, the crowd had thinned considerably, and she immediately noticed Oliver leaning casually against a nearby tree, nursing a drink. His sharp gaze locked onto her as she approached, and before she could slip back into the circle of her friends, he crossed the space between them in a few quick strides.

"Harrington," he said, his voice low but clear over the crackle of the fire. "Is Olympia alright?"

Cassie blinked, caught off guard by the question. She tilted her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Aww," she said, her voice lilting with drunken mischief. "Does Mr. Quidditch Captain care about me?"

Oliver's jaw tightened, and for a moment, his expression twisted into something between irritation and disbelief. Clearly, her quip had hit a nerve. He quickly masked it, his smirk returning, though it was sharper now, almost defensive.

"Don't flatter yourself, Harrington," he shot back, his tone cool. "I was just being polite. Doesn't happen often, so don't get used to it."

Cassie chuckled, crossing her arms as she leaned slightly closer, the alcohol still loosening her usual restraint. "Polite? That's rich, coming from you. What's the angle, Wood? Afraid I'll tell everyone how nice you can be? Or are you just trying to get in my pants?"

Oliver's smirk faltered just enough for her to notice, and his dark eyes narrowed slightly. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"And yet," Cassie said, her voice light with mock sweetness, "you keep coming back for more."

He stepped closer, the tension between them tightening again as his gaze locked onto hers. "Maybe I like a challenge," he said, his voice lower now, almost a growl.

Cassie's stomach twisted, but she refused to look away, her own smirk widening. "Good. Keep making a fool of yourself. Because you're not going to get anything else from me."

Oliver chuckled softly, the sound laced with both amusement and frustration. "We'll see about that."

They stood there for a moment, the firelight casting shadows across their faces as the air between them crackled with unspoken challenge. Finally, Cassie stepped back, breaking the spell with a casual shrug.

"Olympia's fine," she said, her tone deliberately light as she brushed past him toward the fire. "Thanks for asking, though. Really warms my heart."

Oliver watched her go, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. Cassie Harrington wasn't just a challenge—she was the first person in a long time who made him feel like he was the one chasing, and he wasn't sure if that annoyed him or intrigued him more.

But one thing was certain: he wasn't giving up that easily.