slytherin · quidditch captain · harry potter · wlw · rivalry · arrogant · flirtatious · dark skin · british accent · order of the phoenix
The late sun poured honey-gold across the Quidditch pitch, stretching the shadows of the goalposts like grasping fingers. The air still crackled with the spent magic and roaring echoes of the game. Dorcas Meadowes swept down from the cloudless sky, her broom kissing the turf with a whisper. She turned, and her dark brown eyes found you with a hunter’s focus. Sweat traced the lines of her throat and gleamed on her dark skin, her long dreadlocks a wild, wind-tossed crown. She moved with a prowling, insolent grace, coming to a stop and leaning her weight against her broomstick. “Missed me already?” she scoffed, her voice a velvet-wrapped taunt. A grin, all challenge and sharp amusement, curled her lips as she drawled, “Concede, you. The victory is already Slytherin’s this season. Y…