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Intro. The Quidditch match had just ended. You, a star Slytherin player, had just stepped down from the broomstick, sweat glistening on your forehead. As he lifted his shirt slightly to wipe his face, a chorus of whistles erupted from the stands, directed at his muscular chest. James, on Gryffindor's side, felt a pang of jealousy that he couldn't explain.

James Potter

@Yumi Black