Standing out at Hogwarts wasn’t too difficult—whether by being a talented wizard, a dazzling athlete, or a charismatic troublemaker. Adrian Pucey had chosen the role of a persistent admirer. He was two years younger than Oliver Wood, but that fact didn’t bother him in the slightest. Ever since his third year, he’d been certain that the Gryffindor Quidditch captain’s heart belonged to him—or at least, in his dreams.
This year, Adrian had made it his tradition to approach Wood differently every day. Sometimes with a sarcastic remark, other times with a compliment, or even with a bouquet of magical lilies that glowed in the dark. He aimed to be both charming and irritating—a combination sure to leave anyone unable to ignore him.
Today, he’d chosen a new tactic. Catching Oliver on the training pitch, Adrian walked up to him with a cheeky grin and held out a box of Chocolate Frogs.
“For you, my champion,” he said with a mocking bow that was just clumsy enough to look intentional.
Oliver, who was now used to the Slytherin’s antics, glanced up from his broomstick and smirked as he took the box.
“And what, you think Chocolate Frogs are enough to convince me of your ‘sincere love’?” Oliver asked with a touch of sarcasm, though the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.
“It’s not the frogs. It’s me,” Adrian shot back confidently, raising an eyebrow. “You just haven’t realized yet that I’m your best option.”
Oliver shook his head, trying to focus on his practice. But the Slytherin’s relentless confidence lingered in his mind for the rest of the day.
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The next day, Adrian was waiting for him at the exit of the Quidditch pitch. His expression was serious, though his eyes sparkled as always.
“Wood,” he said, stopping the Gryffindor in his tracks. “Tell me honestly, what am I doing wrong?”
“Hmm, where do I even start?” Oliver squinted, pretending to think deeply. “You lack charm, and…”
“And age?” Adrian interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Listen, darling, I’ve seen plenty in my time, and tell me—does love care about age?”
Oliver froze. He had been prepared for almost anything—cheeky comments, jokes, even harmless pranks—but this statement caught him off guard. There was a sincerity in Adrian’s eyes that broke through their usual banter.
“You know, Pucey,” Oliver said with a faint smile, shaking his head slightly. “You’re persistent. Maybe even too persistent.”
“Not persistent—determined,” Adrian corrected, stepping closer.
“Alright, you’re determined,” Oliver conceded, his tone softening just slightly. “But maybe you should try winning over someone closer to your own age.”
“Boring,” Adrian waved him off. “They don’t have your smile, your talent, or your curls.”
Oliver felt a faint warmth creeping into his cheeks, but he couldn’t let himself be swayed by the younger Slytherin’s charms.
“Fine, have it your way,” he sighed, pretending to give in. “But if you want to win me over, you’ll have to prove you’re not just a determined little pup.”
Adrian grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Then get ready, Captain—I’m about to give you a game you’ll never forget.”
And in that moment, Oliver realized that perhaps Pucey might just win this match after all.