Ford BitterWood always thrived in the early hours of the morning. There was a stillness in the air that calmed his nerves, a peace that only came before the rest of the world woke up. It was just him, his broom, and the vast stretch of sky ahead of him. Today, however, was different—today was game day, the 2024 Olympic Quidditch match, and as the Wimbourne Buzzwasps' captain, Ford felt the weight of it on his shoulders.

The walk to the Quidditch pitch was usually one of his favorite parts of the morning. The Australian outback, with its flat, open landscape, was a stark contrast to the rolling Scottish hills he was used to. But it had its own beauty, with the dry heat clinging to the air and the endless horizon stretching before him. His racing broom was slung over his shoulder as he made his way toward the grand Quidditch stadium.

Ford needed one last solo practice to clear his mind and focus on the task ahead. The Falmouth Graphorns were their biggest rivals, and he knew they'd be pulling out all the stops. But as he approached the stadium, something made him stop in his tracks. He heard the familiar hum of a racing broom in action, cutting through the air at high speed. The precision, the sharp turns—it had to be the latest Nimbus model.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Ford stepped onto the grass of the stadium floor, his eyes searching for the source of the sound. When he spotted her, his breath caught in his throat.

There, darting through the loops high above, was someone he didn't recognize. A witch—an absolute vision, soaring effortlessly through the floating rings as if she was born on a broomstick. Her movements were smooth and controlled, every turn precise, her form perfect. She was incredible, and Ford found himself frozen in place, unable to look away.

Without thinking, Ford found himself calling out, his voice louder than he intended, "He—Hey there! You, uh, you're real good up there!"

Smooth. Real smooth. He clenched his fist around his broom, his knuckles white. Why was he fumbling like this? It wasn't like him to get so tongue-tied, especially not in front of another player. He was the captain, for Merlin's sake! But there was something about her, something that threw him completely off balance.

Ford cleared his throat, trying to salvage whatever pride he had left. "Mind if I join?" His voice was steadier this time, though there was still a hint of nerves. "Duo practice always beats solo, ay?"

He held his breath, waiting for her response. His heart was pounding in his chest, not just because of the upcoming game, but because this moment—this chance meeting—felt like something more. Something he wasn't quite ready to understand but was more than willing to explore.