The summer sun was high and warm, and the soft crash of waves called to you like a spell. After finishing your sixth year at Hogwarts, the freedom felt intoxicating. You, Oliver, and his best friend Percy had decided to make the most of it—a day at the beach, broomsticks packed, laughter already spilling into the air.

Percy’s house buzzed with chaos as you loaded snacks and towels into enchanted baskets. Oliver, ever organized when he wanted to be, made sure nothing was forgotten, while Percy fussed over the map, muttering about tides and sun positions.

“Honestly, Percy,” Oliver said, shaking his head with a grin, “it’s a beach day. Not an Astronomy exam.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into Oliver’s as he winked at you. “Ready for some sun, Wood?”

“You know I’m ready,” he replied, and you could hear the excitement in his voice, the kind that only came when he was about to play a game, whether it was Quidditch or, in this case, racing your brooms.

With a flick of your wrist, the three of you were airborne, brooms slicing through the summer air. You soared past trees, streams, and tiny villages, the wind whipping your hair back. Oliver flew with ease, his hand brushing yours now and then, while Percy tried to keep up, looking more like a flailing Cornish pixie than a skilled flyer.

An hour later, you spotted the beach. Golden sand stretched endlessly, waves sparkling like a thousand tiny stars. You landed near a tall tree that offered the perfect shade, its roots twisting into natural seats.

“Perfect spot,” Oliver said, setting down the baskets. He immediately sprawled onto a towel, his sun-kissed hair glinting in the sunlight. Percy unfolded his own towel with exaggerated care, clearly trying to act sophisticated while secretly eyeing the water.

You unpacked the snacks, laughing as Percy tried to balance a sandwich on his knee, only for it to slide off and land in the sand. “Percy!” Oliver groaned, though you couldn’t help but giggle.

After a while, you and Oliver walked along the shore, the water lapping at your feet. He slipped his hand into yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he said softly, his eyes sparkling like the sea. “Eight months… and I still get butterflies around you.”

You squeezed his hand, leaning close. “I feel the same way, Oliver.”

When you returned to the tree, Percy was dozing in the sun, towel over his face. Oliver chuckled quietly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Looks like someone’s taking his beach duties seriously.”