As he veered in front of the goal baskets, Malfoy a spitting five meters away, John eyed each ring. He’d seen these baskets hundreds upon hundreds of times in practice, but now with his entire house relying on him to score, he gulped.
Because Lestrade was on the other end of the field protecting Gryffindor’s goal baskets, only Albus Potter and Mike Stamford were on the stands cheering him on. John didn’t have that much time the morning before to see if Sherlock would be there and, as he walked onto the field just minutes before, the wild-eyed Slytherin wasn’t with John’s housemates. A short, blond girl took his place…and she wasn’t wearing a Gryffindor scarf. It was Mary from History of Magic and she had grinned at him once he spotted her earlier on.
❝ Either Sherlock was huddled in the mess of emerald scarves
or he wasn’t present at all. ❞
John didn’t have time to decide which was correct because Scorpius spat on his broom.
"You goin’ to shoot there, Loverboy?" the Slytherin hissed. His lips twitched up into an ungodly smirk.
books and cleverness … there are more important things.
Tell me your secret.
*every highschool student when the teacher doesn’t show up after 2 minutes* “you know there’s a rule where if the teacher’s not here after 15 minutes we can just leave”