#I COMMAND the games to go my way 🪄🪄🪄

[soleilpinto]

Hexes and Heartbeats (Ollie Bearman) ִ🪄 ࣪𖤐ִ ࣪

“Don’t flatter yourself, Bearman,”🔮 〜 ⁺ ̥ ＊

Synopsis: Y/N Browning, Slytherin’s top student, and Ollie Bearman, Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain, have always clashed. But when McGonagall pairs them up for a project, their rivalry turns into something unexpected. As they spend more time together, Y/N learns that letting someone in might not be so bad after all.

Genre: Slowburn, Fluff, Enemies to Lovers

AU: Hogwarts!au

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: If being an asshole is a warning I’m putting that in.

Note: To be completely honest this was a random idea that came up because I was looking for F1 x Harry Potter fics and couldn’t find any, so I made my own? Anyways, I hope you guys nerd out to this because I miss the Hogwarts rabbit hole I used to go through in 2020. As always, don’t forget to like + reblog if you enjoyed!

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered for dinner, their victorious faces beaming from yet another win.

You couldn’t stop the sneer that tugged at your lips when your eyes landed on Ollie Bearman, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.

Of course, he was the first to stand up and wave at the crowd, soaking in their adoration like a smug, self-satisfied lion.

Ollie Bearman. The perfect Gryffindor.

Everything about him annoyed you—from his flawless posture to the way he casually tossed his messy brown hair as though it were some kind of trademark move.

He wasn’t just a Quidditch captain, he was the golden boy, the darling of every Gryffindor. His confidence was unshakable, and it rubbed you the wrong way more than you cared to admit.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your dinner, not sparing him another glance. But it wasn’t enough to escape the sound of his laughter as he shared a joke with his teammates, their boisterous voices filling the room.

You hated it.

You hated how effortlessly he commanded attention, how everyone just adored him for no reason other than the fact that he was a Gryffindor. You hated how he walked around like he owned the place.

That was when your friend, Isla, nudged you.

"He's looking at you," she whispered with a mischievous grin.

You narrowed your eyes, knowing exactly who she meant.

Ollie Bearman, no doubt enjoying the fact that you were sitting there fuming over his mere existence.

You didn’t even have to look up—he was probably grinning that cocky grin of his.

“I don’t care,” you muttered, stabbing your fork into your food. “He’s just some Quidditch-obsessed Gryffindor who thinks the world revolves around him.”

“Careful, Y/n," Isla teased, her tone mocking. "You wouldn't want to lose your cool in front of the Quidditch King."

You scoffed, too irritated to respond. Ollie Bearman had somehow managed to turn Quidditch into his entire identity.

He had that perfect, shiny Gryffindor arrogance—an arrogance that made you sick.

Later that evening, you found yourself at the Three Broomsticks with a few friends, attempting to unwind after a long week of academic stress.

You hadn’t expected to see him here. But of course, Ollie Bearman and his teammates stormed in, laughing and talking too loudly for your liking.

They sat at a table near yours, and you had no choice but to overhear the conversation. Ollie’s voice carried through the air, boasting about his latest victory.

“You should’ve seen the look on their faces,” Ollie said, grinning ear to ear. “We were unbeatable today. Another win for Gryffindor!”

The table around him laughed, and your irritation bubbled over. You couldn’t take it anymore.

"Must be nice, winning at a game that involves no real strategy," you called out, your voice cutting through the room.

Isla shot you a look of warning, but it was too late. The challenge had been thrown down.

Ollie’s gaze shifted to you, that familiar, infuriating smirk spreading across his face.

“Well, if it isn’t the Slytherin genius,” he drawled, his voice dripping with that all-too-familiar arrogance. “What’s the matter, couldn’t handle being in second place in the academic race?”

A flare of heat rose to your cheeks, but you didn’t back down.

“At least I don’t think winning a game with a broom makes me important,” you retorted, leaning back in your chair with a challenge in your eyes.

“Perhaps if you spent a little more time in the library and less time with your broomstick, you’d understand how real success works.”

A few of his teammates snickered, but Ollie didn’t miss a beat. He stood up, crossing the room toward you with a confident swagger.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure books are very important in your world,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned casually against your table.

“But in the real world, we have to do things to prove our worth. Not just sit around and read about them.”

You clenched your jaw, your eyes narrowing. “I’d rather be doing something productive than pretending a game about flying on a stick matters. You’d never understand the importance of intellect, Bearman.”

His eyes flashed with amusement, but there was something else there too—something you couldn’t quite place.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we, Browning?”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of sharp words, unspoken challenges, and ever-present tension between you and Ollie.

The rivalry was no longer just about House pride—it had become personal, a battle between two personalities that seemed destined to clash.

The days after the confrontation at the Three Broomsticks felt like a storm was brewing. Every time you crossed paths with Ollie Bearman, that same, infuriating smirk was plastered on his face.

As if you hadn’t already made it clear you couldn’t stand his presence.

You tried your best to ignore him, to focus on your studies and maintaining your position as the top student of your year. But every time you heard his laugh or saw his arrogant grin, the heat of frustration flared up again.

It was a cold afternoon when you found yourself once again in a situation where you had no choice but to deal with Ollie.

Professor McGonagall had just announced that the students of your year were being assigned to work together for an extra-credit project on magical creatures.

The task? Track down and document a rare and dangerous magical beast deep in the Forbidden Forest. The catch? Every pair had to be carefully chosen by the professors—and, of course, in their infinite wisdom, McGonagall had paired you with none other than Ollie Bearman.

You had tried to argue, but McGonagall had simply raised an eyebrow and told you, “This will help you learn how to work with someone outside your usual circle, Miss Browning.”

You had to bite back the sarcastic remark that was already forming on your tongue.

It wasn’t the first time you’d had to work with someone you didn’t like, but it was the first time you’d been forced into a group with Ollie.

When you met him at the edge of the Forbidden Forest the next morning, he was already waiting, leaning casually against a tree, looking like he had absolutely no concerns in the world.

His Gryffindor confidence was on full display, and you could already feel the annoyance bubbling in your stomach.

"Finally decided to show up, Browning?" he teased, pushing off from the tree and smiling like he knew he had won some small victory just by getting there first.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Bearman,” you snapped back, brushing past him without making eye contact. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He smirked, but for once, it wasn’t filled with that usual arrogance. There was something else in his eyes—something more playful, like he was daring you to rise to the challenge.

“I’m just here for the creature,” he said, “but I have to admit, working with you might make this a little more interesting.”

You turned to face him, glaring. “Let’s just get one thing clear. If you get in my way, Bearman, I will leave you here. I don’t need some Quidditch-obsessed Gryffindor to get this job done.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your defiance.

“You sure about that? I seem to recall your strategy didn’t go so well in the last encounter with a magical creature. Maybe you could use my help after all.”

Your teeth clenched. You remembered that disastrous incident in the classroom last week when Ollie had pointed out, in front of the whole class, that your spell had backfired, causing your potion to explode. He had never let you forget it, using it as ammunition in every argument ever since.

“You really are full of yourself,” you muttered under your breath, but Ollie seemed to enjoy pushing your buttons.

“Only because I know I’m better than you,” he shot back, his grin widening as you shot him a glare.

With no other choice, you set off into the woods, Ollie following closely behind, still full of his usual swagger.

As you ventured deeper into the forest, the atmosphere grew more oppressive, the shadows from the tall trees stretching across the path, thickening with every step.

You could hear the distant rustling of magical creatures in the underbrush, but Ollie seemed oblivious, happily whistling as though he was on a leisurely walk in the park.

“Stay focused,” you snapped, reaching for your wand. “This isn’t a game, Ollie.”

He finally stopped whistling, giving you a mock salute. “Aye, captain.”

You bit back a retort, knowing that any attempt to argue would only fuel his insufferable attitude. But despite your frustration, there was a small part of you that begrudgingly admired how easily he navigated the forest.

It was clear he had an innate sense of bravery, charging forward with little fear of the dangers lurking behind every tree.

Suddenly, a rustling sound interrupted your thoughts. You immediately raised your wand, ready for whatever creature might appear. But Ollie’s reaction was even quicker.

He darted ahead, using his quick reflexes to grab something darting out of the brush before you could cast a spell.

In a fluid motion, he captured a small, silver-winged creature in his hand, holding it out to you with a grin.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You blinked, stunned for a moment.

The creature he held was delicate, shimmering with magical energy. It was a rare species you had studied in class, but had never seen in person.

For a brief moment, you felt something other than annoyance toward Ollie. He had done something impressive. Something that actually required skill.

It wasn’t enough to erase all the bitterness you felt toward him, but it was a crack in the armor of your dislike.

“You’re not as useless as I thought,” you muttered, lowering your wand, though your tone was still clipped.

Ollie gave a soft laugh. “I can be more than just a Quidditch captain, you know. I do have a bit of brain in this head.”

You shot him a skeptical glance, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Don’t get cocky, Bearman. We still have a long way to go.”

The journey continued with more shared silences and subtle exchanges of respect. Neither of you was willing to admit it, but something was shifting—an uneasy truce beginning to form as you ventured deeper into the forest, side by side.

As the day stretched on, and the deeper you and Ollie ventured into the Forbidden Forest, the more you realized just how much you were beginning to notice him.

Every sharp turn he made, every instinctual move to keep you safe—whether it was spotting a dangerous creature or grabbing your arm to pull you out of harm’s way—you couldn’t deny that there was more to Ollie Bearman than the smug Gryffindor captain you had loathed for years.

It made you uncomfortable, to be honest. You had built an entire narrative in your head about who Ollie was: arrogant, reckless, and obsessed with Quidditch.

But seeing him here, out in the wild, working as a team with you—granted, begrudgingly—you realized that you hadn’t really seen him at all.

“So,” Ollie began, breaking the silence, “what do you actually think of Quidditch, then? I know you think it’s pointless, but I’m curious. If you were the captain, what would you change?”

You turned to look at him, surprised at the question. It wasn’t like Ollie to ask about your opinion unless it involved him somehow proving he was better than you.

Still, you could see a shift in the way he looked at you—a more curious, thoughtful gaze.

“I think Quidditch is just a distraction,” you said, your voice guarded.

“It’s just... a game. People treat it like it’s the most important thing in the world, but at the end of the day, it’s just about winning and losing. There’s no real value in it beyond that.”

Ollie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t seem angry. Instead, there was a spark of interest in his expression.

“So you think there’s no skill involved? That I’m just some distracted player?”

“No,” you corrected quickly, shaking your head.

“I didn’t say that. There’s skill, of course, but I don’t think it’s worth putting everything into. There’s more to life than flying on a broomstick and chasing a ball around.”

Ollie stopped walking, and for a moment, he was silent, almost as if he was processing your words.

You glanced over your shoulder, but his eyes were fixed on the ground, a thoughtful expression on his face.

The forest felt strangely still around you, the usual rustling of leaves replaced by the weight of the moment.

“You know,” Ollie finally said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “sometimes I think you’re a little bit too serious for your own good. But I get it. You’re a Slytherin. You’re supposed to think everything else is beneath you.”

You bristled at his words. “I don’t think anything is beneath me. I just know what I want, and I don’t waste time on things that won’t get me anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your defensiveness. “Is that why you’re so... intense? So determined to always be the best at everything?”

The question hit a little too close to home.

You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

Ollie chuckled, that easy, carefree laugh that always seemed to get under your skin.

“Fine, fine. But you know, if you ever decided to relax a little... maybe you’d see there’s more to life than books and grades.”

You shot him a sharp look. “And maybe if you focused on something other than Quidditch, you’d realize there’s more to the world than winning games.”

Ollie’s smile faltered just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. He took a deep breath, eyes scanning the forest around you, and then gave you a sideways glance.

“Well, I guess we’re both just trying to prove we’re right about something,” he said softly, his tone a little less playful than before.

“Maybe that’s what makes us so similar.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, still walking, but there was an odd sense of understanding in the way he held himself now.

“We both care too much about proving ourselves. You do it with your studies, I do it with Quidditch. We both put so much into what we’re passionate about... maybe that’s why we clash so much.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of you wanted to argue, to maintain the rivalry that had always defined your relationship, but another part of you—the part that had seen Ollie’s vulnerability for the first time—wanted to admit that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

Before you could say anything, a loud, eerie screech echoed from deeper within the forest.

The sound was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and Ollie’s expression shifted instantly into something more serious, more focused.

“That’s our cue,” he said, his voice now all business. “Stay close. It sounds like the creature we’re after.”

The next few hours passed in a blur of action. You and Ollie worked seamlessly together, your skills complementing each other in ways you hadn’t expected.

He was quick on his feet, fearless in the face of danger, while you used your knowledge of magical creatures to help guide your strategy.

There was a trust that had developed between you during the hunt, one that neither of you would acknowledge aloud, but it was there all the same.

When you finally managed to capture the rare creature and return to the castle, both of you were exhausted but victorious.

It was a rare moment of quiet between the two of you, standing just outside the entrance to the Forbidden Forest, the last of the evening light filtering through the trees.

Ollie turned to you, his gaze softer than you were used to. “Not bad, Browning. You might not be as insufferable as I thought.”

You smirked, still unwilling to admit how much you had come to respect him.

“You were all right too, Bearman. For a Gryffindor.”

He chuckled, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. “Guess you’ll just have to keep finding out how much more all right I can be.”

Your heart skipped in spite of yourself. It was infuriating, how easily Ollie seemed to get under your skin now.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the strange warmth in his voice, but something had shifted between the two of you.

And for the first time, you found yourself wondering—just for a second—if there was more to Ollie Bearman than just a Quidditch captain.

It had been a week since the Forbidden Forest trip, and the dynamic between you and Ollie had changed in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

While you were still far from friends, there was an undeniable shift. The tension that had once been a sharp, uncomfortable friction had softened into something that, though still fiery, was less about animosity and more about... understanding.

You found yourself meeting Ollie’s gaze more often than you cared to admit, and not in the usual confrontational way.

It was as if there was a silent acknowledgment between the two of you—the rivalry was still there, but it was starting to feel more like a game than a battle. And while you hated to admit it, you found yourself appreciating his quick reflexes, his unwavering determination.

He was more than just a Quidditch captain. He was actually... smart. Annoyingly smart.

But your thoughts were interrupted when Isla, your closest friend, cornered you in the library one afternoon, her eyes gleaming with the kind of curiosity you knew all too well.

"So," she began, a mischievous smile spreading across her face, "I’ve noticed something."

You looked up from your textbook, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play coy with me," Isla teased, leaning in conspiratorially. "You and Ollie Bearman. Something’s... happening, isn’t it?"

You froze, the quill in your hand suddenly still. "What? No. I—" You stammered, trying to find an excuse.

"He’s just—he’s a Gryffindor. We’re working on a project together. That’s it."

Isla raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Sure. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other during dinner. You can cut the tension with a knife."

You leaned back in your chair, trying to collect yourself. "Isla, you’re imagining things. There’s nothing happening between us."

“Nothing, huh?” Isla’s grin widened, and she sat down beside you. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re not exactly hating him as much as you used to.”

You glanced around the library nervously. What if someone overheard? What if Ollie had been talking about the trip? What if your friends noticed the shift in your dynamic?

"Fine," you muttered, a bit too defensively. "Maybe he’s... not as bad as I thought."

Isla’s eyes lit up, and she leaned in even closer. "Ah, so there is something going on. I knew it!"

You scowled, pushing your book aside. "There’s nothing going on," you repeated firmly, though your tone lacked the conviction you had hoped for.

Before she could push any further, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you.

You turned just in time to see Ollie himself walking through the library doors, his usual grin plastered across his face as he waved at you.

“Hey, Browning,” he called out in his typical teasing tone, strolling up to your table. “You surviving this mind-numbing assignment?”

Your heart skipped a beat. It had only been a few minutes since you had been talking about him with Isla, and now here he was, acting like everything was perfectly normal.

You glared at him, but there was a strange warmth behind your annoyance.

“I was,” you said coolly, “until you interrupted me. What do you want?”

Ollie smirked, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

“Just thought I’d remind you that we’re meeting for the next part of our project later. Don’t forget. You know, it’s important to show up on time if you want to get the extra credit.”

You rolled your eyes, but something in his tone made you want to snap back with a witty retort.

"I won’t forget, Bearman. I’m not the one who’s too busy playing Quidditch to focus on anything else."

Ollie chuckled, clearly amused, and winked at you before turning to leave. "See you later, Browning. Try not to fall asleep on me, yeah?"

As soon as he was out of earshot, Isla grinned at you like a Cheshire cat. "Oh, it’s definitely happening."

You groaned and dropped your head onto your arms. “Can’t you just drop it already?”

Isla just laughed, her voice barely a whisper.

“I know you better than anyone, and something’s definitely changed. The way you two talk to each other? It’s not the same as before. Trust me, you’re not fooling anyone.”

The rest of the week seemed to drag on. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Ollie was always just a little too close—whether it was in the library, during classes, or even in the hallways after dinner.

It was as if your interactions with him were becoming less about the rivalry and more about something else entirely. Something confusing and... undeniably thrilling.

Then came the day when everything started to unravel.

You were heading to the Quidditch pitch with Isla after lunch when you ran into a couple of Ollie’s teammates, and much to your surprise, they didn’t give you the usual hostile treatment they reserved for Slytherins. Instead, they greeted you with an odd mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“Hey, Y/N,” one of them, Emma, said with a smile. “How’s the project going with Ollie? We’ve been hearing rumors that you two are getting along better than expected.”

You froze, unsure how to respond. Rumors?

“Yeah,” another teammate, Alex, chimed in. “It’s kind of hard to ignore how you two have been looking at each other lately. You two might actually make a decent team after all.”

Before you could stop yourself, your face flushed bright red, and Isla’s snicker didn’t help.

“What exactly are you all implying?” you demanded, though your voice trembled slightly.

Emma raised her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, no need to bite our heads off. We’re just saying, you two don’t hate each other as much as you used to. You’re practically friends now. Or whatever this is.”

You couldn’t meet their eyes as you quickly excused yourself, your mind racing with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

Were people really starting to notice? Were you actually starting to... like Ollie Bearman?

Isla shot you a knowing look as you walked away, and you knew you couldn’t hide the truth from her—or yourself—any longer.

The days after the encounter with Ollie’s teammates were a blur. It felt like everyone in school had caught wind of the fact that you and Ollie were spending more time together.

Even though it wasn’t true that you two were “friends,” it was starting to feel like something was changing.

The constant teasing from Isla and your classmates was starting to wear on you, but what bothered you the most was how often Ollie seemed to pop into your thoughts when you weren’t expecting it.

You could handle Isla’s teasing. She was your friend, after all. But it was Ollie’s subtle hints, the small gestures that seemed almost too thoughtful, that kept you off-balance.

Like when he saved you a seat at the Gryffindor table during dinner because your houses table was full or when he offered you his notes after class, claiming he had taken "extra care" to write neatly because he knew you’d appreciate it.

But you didn’t need to think about it. You had a reputation to maintain, and Ollie Bearman wasn’t someone you needed to be distracted by.

Still, every time you crossed paths with him, you couldn’t help but feel that strange flutter in your chest.

One evening, as the hectic exam season drew to a close, you found yourself walking down the hall toward the Slytherin dungeons, your mind occupied with thoughts of an upcoming project.

You hadn’t expected to run into Ollie that night. The hallways were unusually quiet, the only sound being the faint echo of footsteps on stone. But then you saw him.

Ollie was leaning against the wall just outside the entrance of your common room, his eyes scanning the hall with a kind of distracted look.

When he noticed you, though, his face lit up, and that familiar grin appeared.

“Y/N,” he greeted casually, though there was something different in the way he said your name this time. More familiar, less teasing.

You paused for a second, almost instinctively pushing your hair behind your ear. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” he replied without skipping a beat, his tone light but his eyes earnest.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “Talk? About what?”

“About... us, I guess,” Ollie said, shifting slightly as though trying to find the right words.

“You’ve been avoiding me lately despite us being partners, and I get it. We’re not exactly the best of friends, but... well, I’m starting to think there’s something here.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Something here? What are you talking about?”

Ollie pushed off the wall and took a step closer. You felt your pulse quicken, but you weren’t sure if it was from irritation or something else entirely.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he continued, the words spilling out more earnestly now.

“For the longest time, I thought you were just some Slytherin who hated everything I stood for—Quidditch, Gryffindor pride, all of it. But recently, I’ve started to see... I’ve started to see you differently.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Your mind raced. See you differently? What did that mean?

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Ollie continued, his gaze not leaving yours.

“How we’ve spent all this time bickering, but when it comes down to it, you’re actually—” he paused, searching for the words “—you’re actually kind of incredible. You’re clever, driven, and... I don’t know, I can’t stop thinking about how you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

You could feel your heart beating in your throat, but you weren’t ready to admit anything.

Not yet. Not with Ollie Bearman, of all people.

“You’re just saying that because you think I’ll help you pass the next exam, right?” you tried, your voice betraying more uncertainty than you wanted.

But Ollie shook his head, his expression serious now, and you could see the honesty in his eyes.

“No, that’s not it. This is... this is me. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I realized that I like being around you. I’m not saying it’s easy, but I think I’ve started to care about you in a way I didn’t expect.”

Your chest tightened. “Ollie...”

“I don’t know what this is, Y/N,” Ollie said, running a hand through his hair. “I just... I don’t want to pretend it’s not there anymore. I’m tired of pretending you’re just some annoying Slytherin I have to tolerate.”

You blinked, caught in the weight of his words. It felt like your world had shifted under your feet.

You had spent so much time hating him, convincing yourself that nothing could ever come of your rivalry. But now, standing in front of him, you realized how much of that was self-preservation.

How much of it was denial.

“Are you... saying what I think you’re saying?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ollie stepped closer, his voice low. “I don’t know what you think I’m saying, but I think I’m saying that I want to find out what could happen between us. If you’re willing to take the chance.”

The hallway felt suddenly smaller, the walls closing in on you as your thoughts collided with each other.

You wanted to resist. You wanted to shout at him and remind him that nothing could ever happen between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. That your lives had always been dictated by competition, by rivalry.

But as you looked into Ollie’s eyes, the one thing that was undeniable was how real the emotion was in his gaze. How much he meant it.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence.

“I am,” he said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The tension hung heavy between you, neither of you daring to break the silence, yet somehow it felt like everything was finally coming into focus.

You took a deep breath, swallowing the uncertainty. Maybe it was time to let go of all the reasons you had built up to keep him at arm’s length. Maybe there was something worth exploring here after all.

“Alright,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart. “I’m willing to see where this goes. But you have to understand something, Ollie. I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

Ollie grinned, his playful side creeping back into his expression. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You took another breath, feeling the weight of the decision settle on your shoulders. But for the first time in weeks, you felt a strange sense of anticipation, a spark of something that had been there all along but was only now beginning to surface.

Something had shifted since Ollie’s confession, and while nothing had officially been said about your “status,” there was a new air of familiarity between you.

He no longer teased you with the same sharp edges, and his glances felt warmer, less challenging.

You couldn’t deny it: there was something comforting about the way he had started treating you—not like an opponent, but like someone he genuinely cared about.

Still, the adjustment wasn’t easy for you.

Slytherins weren’t exactly known for public displays of affection, and Gryffindors like Ollie seemed to have no problem making their intentions known to the entire school.

Which was why, when Ollie showed up outside your Potions class one afternoon, leaning casually against the wall in his Quidditch robes, you nearly froze in your tracks.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed, keeping your voice low as your classmates filtered out of the classroom, all of them throwing curious looks your way.

Isla, walking beside you, stifled a laugh behind her hand.

“Waiting for you, obviously,” Ollie said with that signature grin of his. “I thought we could walk to lunch together.”

You glanced around nervously, painfully aware of how many eyes were on you.

“Ollie, this is a Slytherin corridor. You’re not exactly... welcome, here.”

“Good thing I’m not afraid of Slytherins,” he replied breezily. “Come on, Y/N, it’s just lunch.”

Isla shot you a knowing look. “Oh, I don’t mind. This is fascinating. Please, by all means, walk her to lunch, Gryffindor hero.”

You shot her a glare before turning back to Ollie. “Fine. But don’t expect this to become a habit.”

Ollie’s grin widened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the two of you walked side by side through the bustling hallways, the whispers were impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t every day that the Gryffindor Quidditch captain was seen escorting the top Slytherin student through the castle.

You could feel your face heat up with every passing glance.

By the time you reached the Great Hall, you were ready to sprint to your table just to escape the scrutiny. But Ollie, completely unbothered, placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Relax, Y/N,” he said softly. “They’ll get over it.”

“You don’t get it,” you muttered, your voice barely audible. “People are going to talk. They’ll think I’ve gone soft. I’m not used to... this.”

Ollie stopped walking, turning to face you. His hazel eyes were calm, steady.

“Hey,” he said, his tone gentle. “I know this is new. I know it’s not easy for you. But you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not to your friends, not to your house, not to me. Just... be yourself. That’s all I want.”

You hesitated, his words sinking in. For someone so brash and confident, he had a way of making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t expected. Slowly, you nodded.

“Alright. But if anyone asks, I’m still your rival.”

Ollie chuckled. “Deal.”

At that moment, a familiar voice interrupted. “What’s this?”

You turned to see Arvid Lindblad and Kimi Antonelli approaching, both wearing amused expressions.

Arvid, a Hufflepuff with a mischievous streak, crossed his arms. “Bearman, are you seriously ditching us for your Slytherin rival?”

Kimi, a Ravenclaw whose sharp mind matched his dry sense of humor, raised an eyebrow. “This is... unexpected.”

Ollie grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders with zero hesitation. “What can I say? She’s growing on me.”

You immediately ducked out from under his arm, your face burning. “Don’t push it, Bearman.”

Arvid burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I can’t wait to tell the rest of the team.”

“Don’t you dare,” Ollie warned, though he was still smiling.

From the Slytherin table, your friends, Isla and Hayley watched the scene unfold, their faces split into identical grins.

“You owe me five Galleons,” Hayley said smugly.

Isla groaned, fishing the coins out of her pocket. “Fine, but I still say she’s going to hex him eventually.”

By the time you and Ollie reached the Gryffindor table, you were convinced that everyone in the castle had seen you together. But as Ollie sat down beside you, his easy confidence never faltering, you realized something: you didn’t mind as much as you thought you would.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

After a few months of seeing Ollie, the day of the highly anticipated Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match arrived, and the castle buzzed with excitement.

The rivalry between the houses was infamous, and the stands were packed with students decked out in their respective house colors.

Green and silver banners clashed with scarlet and gold as chants echoed through the stadium.

You sat in the Slytherin stands, arms crossed, trying to ignore the pang of nerves bubbling in your chest.

Isla nudged you, smirking. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re rooting for Gryffindor today.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snapped, though your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the field where Ollie was leading his team through warm-ups. His movements were precise, commanding, and frustratingly confident.

Focus, you told yourself. He’s your rival, and Gryffindor needs to lose.

As Madam Hooch blew the whistle, the match began in a frenzy of motion.

The Gryffindor Chasers darted through the air, their passes quick and seamless, but Slytherin’s Keeper was on form, blocking their shots with ease.

You found yourself gripping the edge of your seat, every play pulling you further into the match.

It wasn’t until halfway through the game that the tension really exploded.

Ollie, playing as Gryffindor’s Seeker, was locked in a tight race with the Slytherin Seeker, each of them diving after the Snitch.

The crowd roared as the two streaked through the sky, narrowly avoiding collisions with the other players.

“Come on, Ollie!” Arvid’s voice carried from the Hufflepuff stands, and you winced despite yourself. Don’t mess this up, you thought.

Then it happened. A Slytherin Beater sent a Bludger hurtling toward Ollie at a dangerous speed.

You watched in horror as he barely managed to dodge, his broom wobbling for a moment before he righted himself. But the distraction was enough—the Slytherin Seeker had gained the upper hand.

“No!” you gasped, earning a smirk from Isla.

“Interesting reaction for someone who’s supposed to be cheering for Slytherin,” she teased.

You scowled, but before you could reply, the Snitch was spotted again. This time, Ollie was faster.

He leaned forward on his broom, the determination on his face clear even from your spot in the stands.

The Slytherin Seeker was close behind, but Ollie’s outstretched hand closed around the Snitch just seconds before they collided.

The stadium erupted in cheers and groans.

Gryffindor had won.

As the teams landed, the Gryffindor players rushed to Ollie, lifting him onto their shoulders in celebration.

You stayed seated, watching as he grinned and held the Snitch aloft. The sight filled you with equal parts annoyance and something you couldn’t quite name.

When the crowd began to disperse, you made your way back toward the castle, hoping to avoid the inevitable gloating. But before you could slip away, a familiar voice called out behind you.

“Y/N! Wait up!”

You turned to see Ollie jogging toward you, still in his Quidditch robes and looking infuriatingly triumphant.

“What do you want, Bearman?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“To talk,” he said, falling into step beside you. “You don’t look too happy for someone who just witnessed an incredible game.”

“Why would I be happy? My house lost,” you pointed out, though your tone lacked its usual bite.

Ollie smirked. “Come on, I saw you watching me. You can admit it—I was pretty impressive out there.”

“You were reckless,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “That Bludger nearly took you out.”

He shrugged. “Part of the game. Besides, I knew you’d be worried about me.”

“I wasn’t worried about you,” you lied, your cheeks heating up.

Ollie stopped walking, turning to face you with that annoyingly confident smile. “You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but his expression softened, and he stepped closer.

“Look, I know this whole... thing between us is new. And I know you’re still figuring it out. But for what it’s worth, having you there today? It meant something. Even if you were secretly hoping I’d lose.”

You hesitated, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

“I wasn’t hoping you’d lose,” you admitted quietly. “I just... didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it melted into a warm smile. “See? You do care.”

“Don’t push it, Bearman,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

Ollie grinned, falling back into step beside you. “Alright, I won’t. For now.”

As the two of you walked toward the castle, the tension of the match faded into the background, replaced by something softer, something that felt almost... natural. And though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you were starting to think that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind having Ollie Bearman by your side.

Epilogue:

The days when you and Ollie were sworn rivals felt like a lifetime ago, though the memory of your endless bickering still brought a smirk to your face.

Somehow, against all odds, you’d gone from exchanging biting remarks in the hallways to sharing late-night conversations by the fire.

It wasn’t a change you’d ever expected—or even wanted—but it was one you couldn’t imagine undoing.

Your dynamic hadn’t exactly mellowed.

You were still Y/N Browning, Slytherin’s top student, sharp-tongued and fiercely independent. And Ollie was still Ollie Bearman, Gryffindor’s golden boy with that infuriatingly confident grin.

The difference now was that the teasing carried a warmth it never had before, and the rivalry had softened into something that only strengthened your bond.

Take today, for example.

The castle was buzzing with activity as students bustled through the corridors, preparing for their final exams.

You were perched at a table in the library, surrounded by stacks of books and meticulously written notes.

The air smelled faintly of parchment and ink, a comforting sort of chaos that you thrived in.

“Still studying?” Ollie’s voice broke through the quiet, his tone laced with mock exasperation.

You glanced up to see him leaning against a nearby bookshelf, his Gryffindor scarf askew and his hair as messy as ever.

“What does it look like, Bearman?” you quipped, returning your attention to your notes. “Not all of us can wing it and still pass.”

“Hey, I don’t wing it,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from you. “I’m just naturally brilliant.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re naturally lucky, which is not the same thing.”

“And you’re naturally stubborn,” he countered, reaching across the table to pluck one of your notes from the pile. “Come on, Y/N. Take a break. You’ve been at this for hours.”

“I can’t afford to take a break,” you said firmly, snatching the note back. “Unlike you, I have standards to maintain.”

Ollie chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I know. That’s one of the things I like about you. But you’re allowed to breathe, you know. Even Slytherin’s top student can take fifteen minutes to eat a chocolate frog.”

You sighed, finally setting your quill down and meeting his gaze.

His hazel eyes were steady, the teasing light in them replaced with something softer. You hated how easily he could do that—disarm you with a look.

“Fine,” you relented. “Fifteen minutes. But if my grades suffer, I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll take the risk,” he said with a grin, pulling a small package from his bag and sliding it across the table. It was a chocolate frog, just as he’d promised.

You took it reluctantly, your lips twitching upward despite yourself. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he said, resting his chin in his hand as he watched you open the wrapper.

Moments like these had become your new normal. He knew when to push and when to step back, and you were learning to let your guard down—at least for him.

You were still fiercely independent, still determined to prove yourself to the world. But with Ollie, you didn’t feel the need to constantly defend your place.

He saw you, respected you, and never tried to change you.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still moments when you snapped at him or bristled at his easygoing nature, and there were times when his relentless optimism made you want to scream. But somehow, those differences only made your connection stronger.

He challenged you in a way no one else could, and you liked to think you kept him grounded.

Your friends had grown used to the sight of you two together, though the teasing hadn’t stopped.

Isla called him your “Gryffindor puppy,” and Arvid had taken to mimicking Ollie’s voice whenever you defended him.

Even Kimi, with his usual deadpan humor, had joked about how the universe might implode from the sheer improbability of your relationship.

But you didn’t mind. Because at the end of the day, when the library emptied and the castle grew quiet, it was Ollie who walked you back to the Slytherin common room.

It was Ollie who stayed up with you during late-night study sessions, bringing snacks and pretending to care about your advanced Arithmancy notes.

It was Ollie who, somehow, had become the one person you didn’t mind letting in. And as you sat across from him now, watching him steal one of your notes and grin when you scolded him, you realized something important.

You hadn’t changed for Ollie Bearman. You were still yourself—strong, driven, and fiercely Slytherin.

But you had softened for him, in a way that felt like growing rather than shrinking. And for once, you didn’t mind letting someone see the cracks in your armor.

“Alright, Bearman,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “You win. I’ll take a break.”

Ollie’s grin widened. “Finally. I thought I’d have to resort to drastic measures.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you warned, though your voice was lighter now.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his gaze warm.

And just like that, the world felt a little brighter.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[0zzysaurus]

Perfect… the preseason starts exactly how I’ve orchestrated it to… my mind controls the world. I control the football… I control the touchdowns… I’ve got the touch!