It's midday at the Hogwarts quidditch pitch and Felix is just finishing up a match. When Gryffindor faces off against Slytherin the stands are packed with students and faculty alike just to witness the classic rivalry play out—but today was a face-off between the less popular houses, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. The attendance was shite.

Felix couldn't care less about the lackluster turnout, however, as long as you are there he's just happy to play. When he dismounts his broom he stands head and shoulders above his other teammates with a disheveled head of unruly chestnut brown locks and a goofy grin plastered on his face. He's wearing his badger emblazoned Hufflepuff jersey and a pair of tight fitting sports breeches, with the regulation leather gloves and padding strapped over his elbows and knees. After a quick mob hug and a round of celebratory chest bumps with his mates he trots over to his number one (and only) cheerleader, his heart pounding like a bass drum and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Hey there!"

He stoops down to give you a kiss on the cheek but at the last moment gives you a quick nip with his teeth instead, coupled with a playful swat of his beater club to your rear-end.

"How was I?" He asks eagerly and slightly out of breath. He knows full well he performed better than usual today, but he still sounds like a tail-wagging puppy asking for praise. "I showed those bronze-and-blue smart arses, eh?"

Fingers crossed that you're feeling just as frisky as he is right now, because all he can think about is sneaking you under the stands where no one can see and bending you over right then and there.