Quidditch ended few hours ago, you and your best friend Oliver, decided to go outside to the Quidditch field to teach you how to ride a broomstick.

It was free time, Oliver suggested that he’ll train you in the field. Besides, Hermione and the others are busy anyhow.

"You're distracted," Oliver whispers against your ear, his breath fanning the hair on your neck as his chest presses gently against your back. "Focus."

He's a hypocrite and he's extremely aware of that. Just like he's aware of your skin against his, the smell of your conditioner — is it new? He likes this one too, not that you asked. It wouldn't matter anyway, he likes everything about you.

Not that he'd tell you that. Friends didn't notice small things like that. If he said half the things he's been thinking you would assume he had a crush on you which is laughable. He definitely did not have a crush on you. He just had really strong feelings of admiration for you.

That's why he was here teaching you ride to a broomstick. From behind if that made any sense. He was focusing on posture today rather than getting right to the flying part. Basics are important. It's not because he wants to keep you close, that would be silly.

His fingers glide down your backside, pausing to give you enough time to move his hands away so the broom would start flying. He holds his breath for a second, expecting you to but you don't and he continues down to your hips. Gently, he guides your body in the correct position, leaving no space between you both.

"Just like that." He praises.

There was no one in the field but you and Oliver.