The Cannons

Aurora woke with a start on Sunday morning, her heart pounding as she groggily tried to make sense of her surroundings. Her head throbbed slightly, and a faint wave of nausea washed over her. Blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window, she slowly registered that she wasn’t alone in her bed. The night before was a blur, but she immediately recognized the familiar form next to her—Pansy Parkinson, still fast asleep, with her dark hair spilling across the pillow.

Aurora sighed in relief, the tension easing from her shoulders. This wasn’t unusual at all. Pansy had a habit of staying over after a night out, especially when she'd had too much to drink. The other witch hated being alone when intoxicated and always begged to stay at Aurora’s place. It was so routine that Pansy kept a spare set of pajamas and a toothbrush in Aurora’s bathroom.

The events of last night were hazy at best. Aurora remembered dancing, laughing with her friends, and the exhilarating freedom of losing herself in the music. After that, though, things became a jumble of flashing lights, thumping bass, and too many drinks. She winced, rubbing her temples as snippets of conversation and laughter flashed in her mind, though no coherent timeline formed.

Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, Aurora groaned. It was only 8:20 a.m., far too early, considering she’d most likely only collapsed into bed a few short hours ago. Despite her exhaustion, she knew there was no escaping Sunday breakfast. It was an unspoken tradition among her and her friends, one they made no excuses to miss, even after a wild night out.

She considered waking Pansy immediately but thought better of it. Pansy could be grumpy in the mornings, especially after a night of drinking, and Aurora had no desire to start the day off with a biting remark or a slug-eating curse sent her way. A shower, she decided, would do her some good first. Hopefully, the hot water would chase away the grogginess and the more than mild hangover she was nursing.

The bathroom was quiet, save for the steady hiss of the water as Aurora stepped into the shower. The warmth was immediately soothing, and she let the water cascade over her face and body, washing away the lingering remnants of the night before. Her muscles relaxed as she stood under the stream, inhaling deeply and savoring the steam that filled the room. Though her body still felt sluggish, the shower helped revive her senses, and she emerged feeling slightly more human.

Wrapping herself in a towel, Aurora padded back into the bedroom, where Pansy remained sprawled across the bed, her arm draped lazily over her face. With a smile, Aurora approached her, gently shaking her shoulder.

“Pansy?” she called softly, giving her friend another gentle nudge. “It’s time to get up for breakfast.”

Pansy groaned in response, pulling the covers over her head as if to shield herself from the reality of the morning. Aurora chuckled, shaking her head at the predictable reaction.
“Come on, you know we have to go. Everyone’s going to be waiting for us.”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a Bludger,” Pansy muttered, her voice thick with sleep. She stretched languidly before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if she were summoning all her energy just to stand up.

Aurora watched with amusement as Pansy dragged herself toward the floo, still looking more asleep than awake. Just as she reached for the floo powder, she paused, turning to speak with an exasperated expression.

“Remind me never to drink that much firewhisky again,” she said, rubbing her temples before tossing the powder into the flames. “Blaise owes us for that last round.”

Aurora laughed softly. “You always say that, but we both know it’ll happen again next time.”

Pansy gave a half-hearted shrug. "Probably. But right now, I’m cursing him for it.”

Aurora grabbed her wand, tapped the tip to her head, and muttered a quick charm to dry her hair. She felt better after the shower and was starting to feel excitement for breakfast. Sundays with her friends were always a comforting ritual, and despite the sluggish start, she knew the morning would be filled with laughter, stories of the night before, and good food.

She began looking for an outfit to wear to breakfast. Early October mornings were notoriously chilly, and she didn’t have the energy to put much thought into her outfit, but she knew she'd need something cozy. She rummaged through her wardrobe, finally settling on a simple brown oversized sweater that hugged her comfortably, its wool soft and comforting against her skin. Beneath it, she threw on a thick, dark green long-sleeve shirt for extra warmth. A pair of casual jeans followed that allowed her to move freely without feeling restricted.

Next, Aurora reached for a cream-colored knitted show hat, complete with a little fuzzy bobble perched jauntily on the end. She smiled approvingly at her reflection in the mirror, pleased with the balance of warmth and style. The hat added a playful touch to her outfit, perfectly complementing the oversized sweater and dark green layers. Satisfied, she decided she couldn’t think about fashion anymore today and moved on to other preparations.

She grabbed her wand, purse, and the few other essentials she always brought along for breakfast—her keys and some muggle money to cover her share of the meal. As she slung her bag over her shoulder, she made her way to Pansy’s house.

The smell of various soaps hit her before she even reached Pansy’s bathroom. "Pansy, are you in the shower?" Aurora called out, though she already knew the answer.

As she stepped into her bedroom, Aurora noticed the distinct mixture of floral and citrusy fragrances that clung to the air—Pansy’s favorite potions and soaps. Aurora shook her head with a smile. Pansy had an entire arsenal of beauty products and never failed to leave her scent lingering wherever she went.

Aurora settled herself neatly on the edge of the bed, waiting for her friend. Her eyes wandered around the room until they landed on the outfit Pansy had laid out for the day. Aurora smiled knowingly—it was far too dressy for their usual breakfast spot. A sharp pair of black trousers, a stylish trench coat, and sleek boots were neatly arranged on the bed. Pansy was always overdressed, even when they were heading to a casual café.

Aurora chuckled softly to herself. No matter how many times she reminded Pansy that they didn’t need to make an impression at breakfast, her friend’s fashion choices were always impeccable. "You know, Pans," Aurora said teasingly, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the shower, "you could get away with something a bit more... relaxed. It’s just breakfast, not a Ministry gala."

From the bathroom, Pansy's muffled voice called back, her tone half-amused, half-irritated. "Aurora, darling, if I’m going out in public, I might as well look good doing it."

Aurora rolled her eyes affectionately. “Of course. How could I forget?” She stretched out, still feeling the heaviness of sleep pulling at her. Despite the teasing, she admired Pansy’s commitment to style. It was one of the things that made her so endearing. Aurora might have preferred comfort, but Pansy’s flair for the dramatic always brought a touch of elegance to their outings.

As she waited, Aurora leaned back on the bed, her mind wandering to what stories the others would bring to breakfast. Sundays were not only about food but about dissecting the antics of the previous night—who had said what, who had danced with whom, and what Blaise, in particular, owed them for forcing that last round of firewhisky. A small smile tugged at her lips. It was a comforting routine, one that made the worst hangovers a little easier to bear.

The morning air was crisp, and the vibrant colors of early autumn leaves crunched under their feet. The orange and red foliage added a lively backdrop to the sleepy streets, making the quiet morning feel a little magical. As they approached the familiar meeting spot, the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafted through the air, drawing them closer with the promise of comfort and warmth.

Upon arriving, they found their usual table outside. Aurora noticed they were the first to arrive, and she was grateful for the few extra minutes of calm. She sank into one of the chairs, closing her eyes for a moment as she savored the smells of breakfast. Before long, Amelia, their usual server, approached, her eyes taking in their obvious, hungover state with a knowing smirk.

“Amelia, darling!” Pansy began, greeting her with a tone that was both playful and slightly dramatic. “Very good to see you this morning, my dear. I hate to be a hassle, but we’ll be eight today, not our usual five.”

Aurora’s brow furrowed in confusion as she turned to look at Pansy. Eight? They always had their close-knit group of five for these breakfasts, so who on earth could be joining them?

“That’s no problem at all,” Amelia said, her smile warm as she expertly rearranged the table. She pulled two of the chairs from a nearby empty table and squeezed them in, creating space for the unexpected additions. “Who’s joining us this morning?”

Pansy’s smirk deepened, the mischievous glint in her eyes unmistakable. “Just a few of Aurora’s friends,” she said casually, though her tone dripped with slyness. “We all had a rather late night, so you might want to keep the coffee coming.”

Aurora’s stomach dropped. A sudden memory flashed through her mind—Oliver Wood and the Weasley twins. She had run into them at the club just hours earlier. The vibrant, chaotic energy of the night hit her like a wave: drinks flowing, laughter bouncing off the walls, and Oliver’s warm, familiar presence looming larger than life. Her eyes widened in realization as it dawned on her exactly who Pansy was talking about.

“Pansy!” Aurora gasped, her voice a mix of shock and embarrassment. “You didn’t… Did you invite them?”

Pansy’s grin only grew wider. “Of course I did. It was basically your idea to invite them for drinks. So I figured, why not extend the invitation for breakfast?”

Aurora’s face flushed as she imagined the inevitable awkwardness of sitting across from Oliver so soon after last night’s chaotic encounter. She had not begun processing running into him at the club, let alone the prospect of a casual Sunday breakfast. And the twins—they’d no doubt bring their usual brand of mayhem, turning their peaceful brunch into a spectacle.
“Pansy, you didn’t think to warn me?” Aurora muttered, trying to keep her voice low but failing to hide the flustered tone.

Pansy gave a dismissive wave, completely unbothered. “Oh, relax, darling. It’ll be fun! Besides, you and Oliver seemed to be getting along just fine last night. I saw the two of you talking by the bar, catching up like old friends.” Pansy winked, her grin turning mischievous.

Before Aurora could muster a reply, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott strolled to the table. Draco, ever the picture of poise, sauntered in with his signature smirk, his pale blond hair somehow still immaculately in place despite the obvious toll of last night’s revelry. However, he greeted the girls with little effort, his sharp grey eyes giving a quick, tired glance. His exhaustion was apparent, but he carried it well.

Theodore, on the other hand, looked as though he’d been hit by the Knight Bus. His disheveled hair and slightly slouched posture gave him away immediately, and Aurora couldn’t help but chuckle at the contrast between the two.

Pansy’s eyes lit up with delight, seizing the opportunity to tease. “Had a little too much to drink last night, Theo?” she asked, her voice chipper now that she knew someone else felt worse than she did.

Theodore groaned, sliding into a chair next to Draco. “More like too much of whatever Blaise kept handing me,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Draco gave a lazy smirk, leaning back in his chair. “Lightweight.”

After a round of light banter between the group, Fred and George Weasley breezed up to the table. Despite their heavy drinking the night before, they both looked surprisingly fresh, their usual high energy seemingly unaffected by the night’s festivities. Their mischievous glances exchanged as they plopped into the chairs were a clear warning: trouble was brewing.
The twins immediately started eyeing the menu like they were preparing for a feast. Fred grinned at Aurora. “Morning, Aurora! How are we feeling today? Up for another round, perhaps?” he teased, knowing full well she was still recovering.

George nudged Fred. “Give her a break, mate. We have to save some energy for our next adventure.”

Aurora laughed weakly, trying to shake off her nerves, but the growing sense of dread gnawed at her as she noticed how the twins had strategically arranged the seating. They’d made it so only two spots remained open—one next to Pansy, where Blaise usually sat, and the other, ominously, right next to her.

Just as the realization hit, Aurora’s heart sank. She saw him. Oliver Wood walked down the sidewalk with an easy, confident stride that sent her pulse racing. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as though he hadn’t had much sleep, but his bright eyes were full of warmth as they scanned the table, landing on Aurora.

“Morning, everyone!” Oliver greeted the table with a smile that seemed to light up the room. He slid into the open seat next to Aurora, his proximity making her heart race.
Aurora froze, feeling her cheeks flush again as she struggled to act naturally. She busied herself with her coffee cup, wishing she could disappear into it. “Hi, Oliver,” she managed, her voice slightly strained.

Oliver glanced over at her, his smile softening. “Feeling alright after last night? You look a little... flustered.”

Aurora’s stomach twisted. “I’m fine,” she lied, taking a quick sip of her coffee to avoid his gaze. “Just… you know, Sunday mornings.”

Fred and George, ever the masters of creating chaos, jumped into the conversation. “Aurora, you should’ve seen yourself last night!” George exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Dancing like a pro, even after that last round of drinks.”

“Yeah, and don’t forget how you were teaching Oliver those moves,” Fred added, winking at her.

Aurora nearly choked on her coffee, her face turning a deeper shade of red. “I… I don’t remember that,” she muttered, avoiding Oliver’s amused gaze.

“Oh, you were brilliant,” Oliver teased, leaning a little closer. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your secret talent.”

Pansy, clearly enjoying the show, smirked. “See, Aurora? I told you breakfast would be fun.”

Aurora shot her a look, but despite the embarrassment, she couldn’t help but smile. The awkwardness was still there, but with the familiar banter and the warmth of her friends around her, she started to feel a little more at ease. Maybe Pansy was right—maybe this chaotic breakfast wouldn’t be so bad after all.

She quickly realized this was not the case; Blaise sauntered up, arms outstretched in his typical dramatic fashion. The smug expression on his face warned her that whatever he was about to say would undoubtedly cause trouble. She didn’t even have to see the rolled-up Daily Prophet in his hand to know it wasn’t good.

I know you've all been waiting for me," Blaise announced grandly, grinning as if he were holding court. “But let’s not make this about me today, shall we? Instead, let’s make it about our dear Aurora.”

The moment he said her name, everyone’s eyes darted toward her. Aurora froze, her face still flushed from her earlier conversation with Oliver. Her stomach twisted in nervous anticipation as Blaise unfurled the newspaper with a flourish, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“Our little sugar plum here got her first mention in the Prophet, no less,” Blaise continued, barely containing his glee. “And it’s quite the piece of gossip!” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pointed toward Aurora and then dramatically to Oliver. “Mysterious blonde steals the heart of the newest Chudley Cannon, Oliver Wood.” He emphasized each word, savoring the effect.

Aurora's heart sank. "What?" she squeaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Blaise cleared his throat and continued reading the article with exaggerated importance. “The pair were seen dancing closely at the infamous nightclub Pixie Dust last night.” He paused for effect, then added with a smirk, “Quite the scandal, isn’t it?”

Aurora’s chair scraped loudly as she shot up, snatching the paper from Blaise’s hand before he could say another word. Her hands trembled slightly as she unrolled it, her eyes scanning the front page. And there it was, in black and white: a blurry yet undeniably recognizable photograph of her and Oliver mid-dance at the club. Her face was mostly obscured by her blonde hair, but there was no denying it was her. The worst part was how they were pictured—close, clearly caught in an intimate moment, with Oliver leaning in as though whispering something to her.

Her heart raced. It wasn’t just that she was embarrassed by the article—it was that she hadn’t even remembered half of the events that led to this photograph. The night had been a blur of firewhisky, laughter, and casual conversation, but this… this was something else entirely.

"How...?" Aurora stammered, her face burning as she quickly folded the newspaper in an attempt to hide the evidence.

Oliver, for his part, seemed just as surprised but far less embarrassed. He leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Stealing my heart, huh?” he teased lightly, raising an eyebrow.

She shot him a look, half-mortified and half-amused. “I didn’t— I don’t remember—” she sputtered, still clutching the paper as if it might disappear if she held it tight enough.

Pansy, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama, leaned in with a smirk. “Well, now you’re famous, darling. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? A little bit of excitement in your life?”

Aurora groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment. “This isn’t the kind of excitement I meant.”

Draco, who had been quietly observing the scene with a bemused expression, finally spoke up. “Well, at least they got your good side,” he drawled, gesturing toward the photo.
“Could’ve been worse.”

Aurora glared at him from behind her fingers. “You’re not helping, Draco.”

Fred and George exchanged gleeful looks, their laughter echoing around the table, completely oblivious to Aurora’s mortification. Fred leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, well, well,” he said, flashing a grin that could rival any Cheshire cat. “Looks like Oliver here is more than just a star Quidditch player—he’s quite the charmer.”

George, never one to miss a beat, added, “Yeah, Oliver, you could’ve told us you were planning on stealing hearts instead of just Quaffles. We would've sold tickets!”

Aurora glared daggers at the twins, but it only fueled their amusement, and their laughter doubled. The heat in her cheeks intensified as her embarrassment grew. She desperately wished she could vanish on the spot. Of course, they would find this hilarious—it was quickly becoming the most humiliating morning of her life.

Blaise, as always, couldn’t resist stirring the pot. He leaned forward with a wicked grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, Aurora,” he drawled, as though he were about to uncover the secret of the century, “care to give us any details about how you and Oliver ended up so cozy last night?”

Aurora’s temper flared as she sat up straighter, meeting Blaise’s eyes with a venomous look. "If I had to guess, Blaise,” she snapped, her voice sharp and biting, “it would’ve been all the drinks you kept buying us.”

Blaise feigned innocence, raising his hands as if to ward off her accusation, though the glint in his eyes suggested he was enjoying every second of her discomfort. Aurora, however, had already sunk back into her chair, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

Just as the awkwardness reached its peak, the arrival of their muggle server offered a brief reprieve. Blaise quickly stuffed the Prophet under the table, though the amused smirk never left his face. Amelia approached their table with a polite smile, eyeing the group.

Her gaze lingered on the unfamiliar trio—Oliver, Fred, and George—her eyes widening slightly at the sight of three tall, handsome men she’d clearly never seen before. She then turned to Aurora, who was still flushed from embarrassment, and gave her a knowing look, one that said I see you have good taste.

Aurora offered the server a weak smile, hoping to move things along before anyone else could say something embarrassing. The server, unaware of the chaos she had just interrupted, took their drink orders—Blaise, Fred, George, and Oliver, opting for strong coffee as if bracing themselves for the day ahead.

Before she left, the server glanced at Pansy. “I’ll give you a few more minutes to look at the menu,” she said, her tone light and pleasant.

As she walked away, Fred leaned in, grinning. “She definitely thinks you’re dating all of us, Aurora. Good work.”

Aurora groaned, burying her face in her hands again. “Please, just stop."

Aurora barely managed to stifle another groan as Fred's comment hung in the air. She could feel the twins' eyes still on her, and Oliver’s amused gaze didn’t help either. But, as the server returned with steaming cups of coffee, the focus began to shift away from her—thank Merlin.

Blaise, who always acted like a king at the table, was the first to grab his coffee, inhaling the rich aroma before taking a long, indulgent sip. “Ah, life-saving,” he muttered, clearly hungover but masking it better than the others.

Aurora, still feeling the remnants of the night’s indulgence, wrapped her hands around her own cup. The warmth soothed her somewhat, though her stomach still churned from the firewhisky. She took a tentative sip, hoping it would settle her nerves and the queasiness.

Pansy, looking slightly more alive after her coffee, skimmed the menu with barely concealed disdain. “I don’t care what they serve as long as it’s greasy,” she muttered. “The greasier, the better.”

Draco rolled his eyes, which had dark shadows under them. “I’ll have the full English breakfast,” he ordered, sounding exhausted. “Extra bacon?”

Next to him, Theodore was practically slumped in his chair, nursing his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Just eggs,” he mumbled when the server turned to him. “Scrambled. And maybe some toast.”

Aurora finally glanced at the menu, her stomach in knots. She was starving but still a little nauseous from the previous night. “I’ll take a stack of pancakes,” she said softly, trying to focus on the comfort of carbs. “And a side of bacon.”

Fred and George, ever the bottomless pits, had no hesitation. “We’ll have the works,” Fred announced, “Pancakes, eggs, sausages, bacon. Oh, and throw in some hash browns too. Gotta soak up all that whiskey.”

George nodded eagerly. “Yeah, double that order.”

Oliver, sitting across from Aurora, smirked at the twins before placing his own order. “Just eggs and bacon for me, thanks,” he said, his voice easygoing. “Maybe some toast. Can’t overdo it after last night.”

As they waited for their food, the table settled into a familiar rhythm. Despite the lingering embarrassment, Aurora began to relax as they chatted about the night before. Fred and George kept the mood light, recounting their attempts at dancing—" or whatever that was supposed to be," George teased—and Pansy poked fun at Blaise’s over-the-top flirting with the bartender.

When the food finally arrived, the table fell into a comfortable silence, the clattering of cutlery and soft groans of satisfaction replacing the earlier chatter. The plates were piled high with greasy, hangover-curing goodness: eggs scrambled to perfection, thick slices of bacon, crispy hash browns, and fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup.

Aurora eagerly dug into her pancakes, savoring the sweetness with each bite. The warmth of the food seemed to settle her stomach at last, and she began to feel human again. Pansy, true to her word, was devouring her bacon and eggs as though they were her last meal. Even Theodore, who had been nearly unconscious earlier, perked up after a few bites of toast.
Draco, still looking pale, picked at his food more slowly but seemed grateful for the sustenance. “Remind me not to drink that much firewhiskey again,” he muttered between bites, echoing Pansy’s earlier sentiment.

Fred and George, of course, were eating with the enthusiasm of two people who hadn’t just spent the night consuming a ridiculous amount of alcohol. Fred, grinning, even attempted to sneak a piece of bacon off Oliver’s plate, only to get swatted away.

“Oi, get your own,” Oliver said with a chuckle, though his tone was light. He glanced at Aurora, who was cutting into another pancake, and smiled. “Feeling better?”

Aurora nodded, her earlier embarrassment slowly fading. “Yeah,” she said, her voice more steady now. “Much better.”

Blaise, having polished off his own plate, leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “So, Aurora,” he began, clearly not willing to let the Prophet article go just yet, “how are you enjoying your newfound fame?”

Aurora shot him a warning look as she took a sip of coffee. “I think I’ve had enough of your commentary for one morning, Blaise.”

Fred, ever the opportunist, jumped in. “Oh, come on, Blaise. You’ve got to let Aurora enjoy the limelight. Not every day someone gets an article in the Prophet for being ‘mysterious and alluring.’”

“Yeah,” George added with a grin, “Oliver’s really boosting her career here. What a team player.”

Oliver, to his credit, took the ribbing in stride, though his ears turned slightly pink. “You lot are relentless, you know that?”

“Of course we are,” Fred said, raising his fork triumphantly. “It’s our job.”

Pansy, finally deciding to give Aurora a break, shifted the conversation. “Honestly, I think the Prophet needs to get its facts straight,” she said with an exaggerated air of seriousness.

“Clearly, the real story is how Draco over here almost lost a bet to Blaise last night over who could last longer on the dance floor.”

Draco, who had been quietly working on his plate of eggs, looked up with a glare. “That was not a fair bet. You didn’t mention Blaise’s enchanted shoes,” he muttered. “I was at a severe disadvantage.”

The table burst into laughter, with Theodore groaning. “I told you not to take that bet,” he said, shaking his head. “Blaise always cheats.”

“I do not cheat,” Blaise said, mock-offended. “I just play to win.”

Draco picked at a slice of bacon and leaned over to Theodore. “Remind me why we let Blaise talk us into these ridiculous bets?”

Theodore shrugged, still looking a bit worse for wear himself. “Because we’re idiots.”

Pansy chimed in. “Correction: you’re idiots with terrible alcohol tolerance.”

As the server came by to refill their coffee cups, Aurora found herself sinking deeper into the cozy ambiance. Despite the rough start to the morning, there was something undeniably comforting about being surrounded by her friends, even if they were relentless in their teasing.

“Alright,” Fred said, finishing the last of his pancakes. What’s the plan for today? We can’t possibly go home now. We need to make the most of this Sunday.”

George nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Maybe we can hit up Diagon Alley? There’s a new sweets shop that just opened next to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and they have this insane chocolate fountain.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “You two are relentless with sweets, aren’t you?”

Oliver chuckled, looking at Aurora. “What do you think? Do you fancy a trip to Diagon Alley? Or do you need some recovery time?”

Aurora smiled, feeling more herself now. “I think I can manage a bit of window shopping.” She shot a mock-glare at Blaise. “As long as no one buys any more drinks.”

“Deal,” Oliver said, raising his coffee cup in a mock salute.

With that, the group finished off the last of their breakfast, stretching and groaning as they pushed their chairs back from the table.

As they walked through the streets, the earlier awkwardness between Aurora and Oliver seemed to fade into the background.