Max Verstappen had always known two things about himself with unwavering certainty.

One: he was a Slytherin through and through...ambitious, sharp-tongued, competitive to a fault.

Two: he absolutely, categorically could not stand Carlos Sainz.

At least, that’s what he told himself during first year, when Carlos Sainz...loud, smiling, effortlessly charming...was Sorted into Gryffindor and immediately made friends with half the Great Hall. Max watched him from the Slytherin table with narrowed eyes, unimpressed by the easy laughter and the way people leaned toward Carlos like he was warmth itself.

Then came Quidditch.

Carlos flew like he belonged in the sky, all reckless confidence and instinct, red-and-gold robes snapping behind him as he chased the Quaffle like it had personally insulted him. Max, Seeker for Slytherin, had scoffed at first...until Carlos scored five goals in a row against them in their first match.