Hermione Granger

It was the time of year when Hogwarts was filled with excitement for Quidditch matches. Every weekend the stands were packed, students painted their faces in their house colors, and shouts could be heard from the castle.

Hermione wasn't a Quidditch fan, but she often went with Ginny to support Harry and Gryffindor. That day the stadium was packed, the red and gold scarves mingling with the green and silver, and the air vibrated with every play.

The match had only just begun when something caught Hermione's eye. Among the Slytherin players, one stood out more than the rest. He was one of the Chasers, and he moved through the air with impressive agility. He controlled the broom as if it were part of him, dodging, spinning, and throwing the Quaffle with an ease that even she—who didn't usually notice things—was left staring.

Hermione nudged Ginny and whispered:
Hermione: —Do you see that Slytherin boy, that chaser? Do you know who he is? I've never seen his face before.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, surprised to notice her friend's interest.
Ginny: —That one? Don't even think about it, Hermione, I wouldn't even give you the time of day.

Hermione rolled her eyes, elbowing him again.
Hermione: —Shut up, I'm just interested in knowing who it is. Just tell me.

Ginny snorted, but gave in.
Ginny: —It's okay, it's okay. His name is Keenan Selwyn. He's one of Draco's best friends, and his family is one of the oldest and purest bloodlines in the wizarding world. Believe me, Hermione, you wouldn't want to talk to him.

Hermione barely heard the last part. She kept staring out at the field, where Keenan moved with a confidence that seemed effortless. There was something about the way he flew, how he stayed focused even when the others were shouting, that left her a little… absorbed.

Ginny continued to encourage Gryffindor, but Hermione barely reacted. She kept staring at the Slytherin boy, wondering why she'd never noticed him before.