You had always been used to starting over. Transferring schools so late into your seventh year was nothing new, but Hogwarts… Hogwarts was different. The Sorting Hat had barely touched your head before shouting “Gryffindor!” and you felt an odd sense of relief wash over you.

It didn’t take long for you to meet Oliver Wood. He was… unmistakably Oliver. Energetic, passionate, a little intense, but kind—kind in a way that made you want to talk, to laugh, to stay around him. Over the weeks, you grew closer, sneaking conversations between classes, sharing late-night snacks, and quietly becoming the kind of friends who didn’t need to explain everything to feel comfortable around each other.

Tonight was one of those nights. The common room was mostly empty, the fire casting soft shadows across the room. You were curled up in one of the armchairs, a blanket draped over your legs, while Oliver perched on the edge of the couch nearby, restless as ever.

“You… you’ve never told me much about your past,” he said after a pause, his tone almost hesitant. “I mean… before Hogwarts. Why you… transferred. And… other things.”

You shrugged, focusing on the flames. “I don’t… I guess I didn’t feel like anyone here needed to know. It’s not exactly small talk.”

He nodded, biting his lip, then asked softly, almost too casually: “Have you… slept with anyone?”

Your head snapped up. Not the question you were expecting. You hesitated, then answered truthfully, careful not to volunteer too much. “Yes,” you said, your voice even "but not volunteering"

Oliver froze. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. The firelight flickered across his face, catching the tension in his jaw, the faint blush creeping over his cheeks.