Dani almost hadn't known who to cheer for as she watched the game with her family. She'd always supported Puddlemere, but after everything that had happened with Oliver, she wasn't sure she wanted to continue to do so. She'd even taken down the team's poster that hung in her dorm, not wanting to be visually confronted with the handsome blonde's smile every day. When the tickets from Aidan had arrived for this game in particular, it was almost as though the world was having a little laugh at her expense.
The blonde had, however, done her best to quell that idea, and instead focussed on enjoying sharing the game with her family. It was the first time they'd all been able to attend a professional level game together, and the fast paced, flying frenzy that was quidditch still fascinated them. Oliver's skill in front of the hoops made him magnetic, her gaze drawn to him with a pang whenever he belted the quaffle back into play, defending his territory with an all but unholy drive that was impressive, almost a little scary, to behold. Aidan was not just a friend now, but a welcome diversion. Watching him, even if she wasn't a seeker, was like a lesson in the nobility and art of the game he loved. He moved through the air with such a natural affinity for it, it was easy to see why he'd been chosen to play for his country at such a young age. In a word, it was beautiful. The bird of prey for which the team was named seemed to fit him well; majestic, at one with his domain, a sleek and superb danger to others who dared inhabit it with less grace and power. It wasn't just fun to watch him, it was an inspiration, a privilege.
But when the Kestrels had lost, Dani felt it keenly. Aidan had been so nice to her, treated her like a person and not a silly, naïve little girl. He offered advice and comfort and made her laugh. If he'd been someone else, it would have been easy for a crush to develop (he was gorgeous, after all) but the fact of his father hood meant Dani saw him differently, regarding the Irishman with a deep respect and admiration.
So when she went to find him after the game, she didn't rush like a breathless fangirl, full of wide eyed enthusiasm. Instead, she approached him as she wanted to be after a loss; quietly, with and encouraging word at the ready. He wasn't hard to find, disappointment written in his familiar, usually smiling face.
"Sorry about the loss," she began gently, unconsciously shifting a lock of hair behind her ear.