It was a very intense game of Quidditch. The only reason why was because Gryffindor and Slytherin were the teams playing. The Houses at Hogwarts had always been rivals, so competition between the two Houses was always fierce. Today was no different.

I personally thought Quidditch was an okay sport, so why not try out for it? I made the team, but I think it was only because Slytherin's Quidditch Captain, Marcus Flint, found me to be attractive. If he thought I was interested in him, he was gravely mistaken. I wasn't into anybody—well, not in Slytherin anyway.

I was Keeper for Slytherin's team. So far I let two goals past. Nobody's perfect, right? I shook stray strands of pale blonde hair away from my face that had escaped my ponytail. I had to focus on the Quaffle. I didn't pay attention to the Seekers of each team, because that wasn't my job. My job was to protect the three hoops I was hovering in front of.

I saw whips of green and red as children in the Quidditch pitch roared for either Gryffindor or Slytherin to win. Mainly people cheered for Gryffindor. It's obvious to see which House was liked the least amongst the four. Sadly, that was the House I was placed in when I was in my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

My smoky grey eyes shifted quickly as I kept track of the Quaffle, even if it was on the other side of the pitch. Gryffindor's Keeper distracted me. He had to be the most obsessed person when it came to the wizard sport. He was in my year, fifth. The funny thing is, I was in love with the bloke.

I saw a terrible sight before my eyes, snapping my focus briefly away from Oliver Wood. Marcus took one of our Beater's bats, and smacked a Bludger towards Oliver. I gasped, nearly falling off my broom as I was so startled. Oliver flew into one of the hoops, falling ungracefully to the sand below, his broom not too far from him. I cast a glance at the Slytherins who were supporting us. They were laughing, thinking it was some kind of joke. Amongst those who were laughing was my brother, Draco Malfoy.

He was only a first year, four years younger than me. He fit right in at Slytherin House. He was like our parents, snotty and only cared about our pure-blood status. I was the only Malfoy who didn't.

I wasn't sure what blood status Oliver was, but that meant nothing to me. I loved him, but who was I kidding? Everybody viewed Slytherins as cunning, rotten kids. Nobody would ever think that one Slytherin actually had a decent heart. I believed that the only reason why I was stuck in Slytherin was because of my pure-blood.

I wanted to abandon my post as Keeper and sweep down to go make sure Oliver was okay, but I knew I was going hear it from Marcus if I did. Reluctantly, I stayed at my post as I watched Slytherin score two goals by cheating. I am so quitting the team after this. I'm not going to play in their cheating ways, I thought bitterly.

I saw Gryffindor's newest Seeker, Harry Potter, reaching for the Snitch. At this point, I didn't care who won this Quidditch game. My eyes constantly flickered to Oliver's unconscious form in the sand. The moment whichever team won, I would immediately go down to help him.

I saw Potter fly off his broom, crashing into the sand. The game continued above him, and he had his arms around his stomach. He looked like he was about ready to be sick. But what he threw up wasn't anything nasty. It was the golden Snitch. That was the end of the game, and a loss for my House.

Finally feeling relieved, I swooped down and leapt off my broom, only to find Oliver gone. Probably in the hospital wing. The medical staff sure works quickly.

I started running from the Quidditch pitch when a rough hand knocked me around. Naturally Marcus would find me. Rather than him yelling at me, I fired off at him.

"What was that?" I shouted.

"What was what?" he asked stupidly.

"Why did you take out Gryffindor's Keeper?"

"That was getting an advantage."

"It backfired because we lost anyway."

"It was worth a try." He shrugged.

"You didn't have to hurt him! That was cruel and you know it!"

"If you feel so strongly about it, then you're off the team." His lips curled into a sneer.

What did he expect me to do about it? Screech at him? Burst into tears and beg for forgiveness? Marcus didn't know me. "Fine by me," I scoffed. "I wanted to quit anyway. I don't cheat in any game. I may be in Slytherin House, but I am not going to follow their devilish ways."

"Why do you care about Wood anyway?" He got in my face. I shriveled under him only because his face was so gruesome to look at. Revelation spread in his dark eyes. "You care about him."

"Do you have a problem with that?" I hissed, folding my arms across my chest. "If you do, I don't care." When Marcus gave me a cold glare, I turned on my heel and started walking away, not bothering to change from my Quidditch uniform. I yipped as Marcus grabbed my arm.

I took one look over my shoulder before acting on instinct. I socked him in the face, hurting my knuckles and his nose. Marcus howled in pain, clutching his nose while I grabbed my fist. I hoped his fat nose didn't break my knuckle. My father wouldn't be so pleased about it, but then again...he'd probably scold me for fighting another pure-blood. My mother would probably have a heart attack, wondering why her little girl had the audacity to punch a fellow teammate in the face. Whatever. "That's for trying to assault me, you prick," I snarled.

I ran as fast as I could away from the pitch and back to Hogwarts, heading for the hospital wing. I had to shove past people as politely as possible. I wanted to get to Oliver desperately. My legs seemed to have enough energy to carry me up the incline back up to the castle and through the maze of halls that eventually led me to my destination.

I stopped in the entrance way of the hospital wing. Oliver was already in a bed, still out cold, Madam Pomfrey examining him. My feet clacked as I walked in. Madam Pomfrey snapped her head up at the sound of me.

"No visitors, I'm afraid," she said hastily.

"I came to see if he was all right," I said quietly. I didn't want to argue with this woman, because she'd surely shoo me out in a second flat. "And I was hoping you could look at my hand. I think I hurt it." That gave me at least access to enter the room.

Madam Pomfrey sighed irritably but beckoned me forward. Some areas of my hand felt tender when she rubbed them. She tisked. "Feels like you've got a bit of a sprain, dear," she sighed. "I'll get this wrapped up for you."

She had it wrapped within a minute if that.

"Do you mind if I stay in here for a few minutes?" I asked cautiously. I stole a look at Oliver. "That's all I ask."

"If that's what you want. But a few minutes only." She skittered away to the other end of the room.

I took a stool and sat by Oliver. I was so tempted to take his hand or just run a hand through his dark hair. It looked really silky and smooth. I bet it felt that way, too. Don't do it. What if he wakes up and sees you doing that? He'd flip and then Madam Pomfrey will kick you out. Resist the urge!

I had been so busy with my internal battle that I hadn't even noticed Oliver's eyes flicker open, exposing those handsome brown eyes. He groaned a little bit before trying to sit up. I stuck my arm out to stop him. He looked at me and immediately shot me a confused look.

"I wouldn't try sitting up for a bit," I said.

"Why are you here?" he asked. He had no anger in his tone, only curiosity. "Shouldn't you be rejoicing with your team over the fact that you knocked me out and won the game?"

Wow, he must've been out for a while. How could he not have heard that Gryffindor won the Quidditch match? "You were out cold. We didn't win. You guys did."

"We did? Harry did it, then! He is a good Seeker." Oliver chuckled to himself. He settled back into bed. "But really, why are you here?"

"I came to check in on you," I said sheepishly.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?"

"I don't really know you."

"I'm Miranda, remember? Miranda Malfoy?"

"Oh. Right." His voice sounded a little bitter. I knew why: because he knew of me. His eyes shifted to my bandaged hand. "What happened there?"

"Oh, this?" I messed with it, trying not to aggravate it. "I punched someone."

"Who?"

"Marcus Flint."

"Why?"

"I shouted off at him because of what he did to you, and then he said I was off the team. I didn't care really; I don't like to cheat like most Slytherins do. I told him I was fine with quitting, and apparently he didn't like me walking away. He tried to grab me but I socked him in the face." I definitely had to leave the part out where Marcus knew that I liked Oliver. I couldn't tell Oliver that, because I wasn't sure how he would react, although I did have a rough idea.

"It's about time that git got what he deserves. How tender is it, your hand?"

"Feel it and I'll tell you." I put my hand near him. He eyed me suspiciously. Does he think this is a trick or something?

Carefully he took my hand. An involuntary shiver escaped me. I never thought I'd even get to touch him. This was a good day despite all that happened.

I winced when Oliver rubbed over the sorest areas.

"I believe you," he muttered. He didn't let go. There was quick silence. "Since when did you care about what Flint did to me?"

"Oh..." I fumbled for the right words. Nothing seemed to be forming in my brain. "Like I told you, I don't like to cheat."

"Something tells me there's more to it than just that." His thumb rubbed over the top of my hand. "Why do you care? I'm nobody to you."

"That's not true!" I said immediately. "You've always been this Quidditch-obsessed guy who I've been in love with for the past two years. How can you not mean anything—?"

"Wait," he stopped me. "You've been in love with me for two years?"

I closed my mouth. Damn it, I babbled. Good going, genius. Now he's never going to fall for you, I told myself. He's just going think you're lying and stay away from you. No chance of romance with this Keeper.

I bit the inside of my cheek, looking away. I really wanted to leave the room right now. I shouldn't have let that slip. That was meant to be kept a secret.

"I should go," I said evasively, standing up.

"Don't," Oliver whined. I tried to leave but his grip on my bandaged hand tightened. Shockingly, his grip didn't make my hand throb. I looked down at him, brown eyes meeting grey. "Don't leave, Miranda."

I grinned a little bit. Since he doesn't want me to leave, I might as well stick around. I sat back down on the stool, returning Oliver's grip with a squeeze from my hurt hand.

"So...is what you said true? Have you been in love with me?" he asked me.

"Yes...and I still am." My voice was a whisper.

"I don't see why, though. You're pure-blood and a Slytherin. I'm a Gryffindor."

"So?" I snorted. "I don't care about any of that pure-blood crap my parents shove down my throat. I don't care that Slytherin and Gryffindor are rival Houses and despise each other." There was a moment's silence between us. I wanted to ask the big question, but I wasn't sure if I should push this further.

Really, this shouldn't have come up at all. My stupid, big mouth.

"I'll be honest with you, Miranda. When I first saw you, I thought you were a bitch. I thought you were going to be the snobbiest person in the world. I thought that even more so when I realized you had a brother who was so peevish he made even the crabbiest teacher look tame. But now...You're different from the others in your House. If anything, you seem more like a Hufflepuff."

"Why would I seem like a Hufflepuff?" I asked curiously.

"You know right from wrong," he listed. "You believe in playing fair. You seem to have patience with just about anybody except for a select few, I'm sure. And...I don't know about you, but I've heard that Hufflepuffs are particularly good at finding things."

"But what does that have to do with me?" I pressed, leaning over on his bed.

"You've found yourself a keeper." He smiled.

"I see what you did there." I blushed.

Oliver maneuvered over to me, capturing my lips in a shy, soft kiss. My heart burst into rapid beats, threatening to break out from my chest. My head was swimming with the dizzying sensation of the kiss.

I looked into Oliver's soft brown eyes once we detached. He didn't have to say a word, because the message I received was pretty clear. He stroked my face with one hand, the one that wasn't occupied with my injured hand.

"You have one more minute before I will ask you to leave!" Madam Pomfrey's voice echoed through the room. Maybe she had seen us just kiss.

"You better go," Oliver murmured. "I wouldn't want you to get yelled at because of me."

I pressed my forehead into his. "You'll be out of here soon, won't you?"

"I'll probably be in overnight and out by tomorrow morning."

"Do you want me to come back tonight?"

"If you can, I'd enjoy it." He grinned.

"Then I'll try to make it happen. Does this mean we're together?"

"Hmm...not officially. Let's just keep this between us."

"I think I can manage that. So this means we go sneaking around and whatnot just to have some privacy?"

"Seems like it. A lot of people won't like it, though, when they find out about it."

"What? Us? A Gryffindor and Slytherin can date. It's not like it's forbidden. I don't care if anybody has a problem with us being together. They can go vent to somebody else about it, because I don't want to hear it. You and I are together, and nothing will change that."

"Even if people try to break us apart?"

"Even if that." Consciously, I ran a hand through his hair. It was just as soft and silky as it looked. Oliver kissed me again, this time for longer. "I think I better go," I said. "But I'll try and come back for you, okay? Hang in there."

"I will, knowing it'll be because of you."

I kissed the tip of his nose as he settled back down in bed. I looked over to see Madam Pomfrey had her back turned. I shot a smile at Oliver and walked out, butterflies rumbling in my stomach. I felt like bouncing up and down, squealing at the top of my lungs.

I knew I was going to have to remind myself of keeping our new dating thing quiet. I definitely knew I had to keep it quiet from Draco, because if he suspected something was up, he'd let our parents know. I did not want that to happen. If my parents didn't approve—which most likely they wouldn't—I'd have to become rebellious and still date Oliver behind their backs.

I thought I was going crazy, but I guess Quidditch wasn't Oliver's only love after all.