The sun was starting to dip behind the towers of Hogwarts, casting golden streaks across the Gryffindor dorms. You were sprawled across Oliver’s bed, your head resting on the soft pillow, and he was… well, somewhere between laying on you and wrapping himself around you like he couldn’t get close enough.

His face was buried in your neck, breath warm against your skin, and every so often he nuzzled you like you were the most precious thing in the world. His arms were tight around your waist, his hands pressing just enough to make you giggle softly.

You couldn’t resist, fingers tangling in his hair as you ran them gently through his messy curls. “You’re ridiculous,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Mhm,” he mumbled into your neck, voice muffled but dripping with affection. “Ridiculous for loving you this much.”

You giggled again, pressing your lips to his temple. “Oliver…”

“Don’t stop me,” he whispered dramatically, his voice barely audible as he nuzzled your neck again. “I could talk about how much I love you all day. You’re… you’re just—”

“Perfection?” you offered, smirking.

He stiffened slightly, a muffled laugh escaping him. “Exactly. Perfection.”

Your arms tightened around him, squeezing him closer as you continued to play with his hair. “You’re such a sap, you know that?”

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss into your neck. “And I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

The room was quiet aside from the soft sound of your laughter and his murmurs of affection. You felt utterly safe, completely adored. Until…

A small cough echoed from the doorway.

Your eyes flicked up, and there stood Percy Weasley—his mouth covered with a hand, eyebrows raised in amusement, eyes silently telling you not to say a word.

You snorted quietly, trying to stifle your laughter, and Percy’s eyes twinkled as he shook his head just enough to signal “don’t let him know I’m here.”

Oliver, oblivious as ever, continued without pause. “I just… I don’t even know how I got so lucky, you know? One moment I was just playing Quidditch, thinking life was normal, and the next… there you were. And now—now I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You giggled into his shoulder, pressing a light kiss just below his ear. “Oliver…”

“I mean it,” he continued, completely wrapped up in his own feelings, oblivious to the small figure in the doorway. “Every day with you… it’s like winning the Quidditch Cup all over again. Except better, because it’s real, and it’s you…”

Percy, unable to resist, muttered quietly but loud enough to carry just a little: “Really, Ollie?"he said sarcastically taking a higher tone in his voice

Oliver froze. His words caught in his throat. Slowly, he lifted his head just a fraction, and when his gaze met Percy’s in the doorway… it was like a bucket of ice water had hit him.

“Percy!” he blurted, completely flustered. He scrambled off the bed, fixing his posture and trying to shove his sappy expression back into something resembling his usual confident self. “I—I… uh… I have to go to practice! Yeah. Practice!”

His voice was all brisk now, no softness, no hints of the lingering affection he’d just been professing. His hands were suddenly shoved into his pockets, his shoulders stiff, everything about him screaming, I’m totally normal and nothing happened here.

You couldn’t help yourself. A laugh escaped you, light and teasing.

Percy grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “Smooth, Wood.”

Oliver spun to glare at both of you, but the glare was weak, half-lost under the flush creeping across his cheeks. “I—I didn’t—nothing! You—” He ran a hand through his hair, muttering. “Practice. I have… practice. Very important practice.”

You and Percy burst into laughter, your giggles echoing through the dorm room, and even though he tried to stay mad, you could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

“You’re terrible,” he muttered, shaking his head, but his voice had that faint warmth you loved—because even when flustered, he couldn’t completely hide the truth: he adored you, utterly, hopelessly.