Frosting
Aurora’s next week had been nothing short of fantastic. Her new job was going exceptionally well, and things with Oliver were also running smoothly. They’d become quite good at hiding their relationship over the past few days, finding little ways to connect while keeping their secret from the rest of the world.
During Quidditch practices, they’d exchange fleeting glances when no one was looking. The thrill of almost being caught made their connection feel even more electric, like a secret only they were privy to. Sometimes, Aurora would catch Oliver watching her during drills, his eyes lingering just a little too long, and she’d smile subtly before refocusing on her work. The tension between them simmered beneath the surface, but neither could afford to let it slip.
One evening, after everyone else had left the training facility, they snuck back in, meeting under the stars in the empty stadium. Lying side by side on the soft, cool grass of the pitch, they spoke quietly about their day, their aspirations, and the difficulties of keeping their budding romance hidden. It was as if the world outside that stadium didn’t exist, and they could be themselves without fear of judgment. The emptiness of the vast stadium felt like their own private sanctuary, and the stillness of the night allowed them to share moments they couldn’t during the day.
Oliver had started a playful little game between them, leaving each other small, heartfelt notes in unexpected places. She’d find his messages tucked into her potions kit, with words like, “Thinking about you today” or “You looked amazing on the field.” Aurora, in turn, left her notes in Oliver’s Quidditch gloves, writing simple things like, “Can’t wait to see you later” or “You’re going to crush it at practice.” The notes were a fun, secret way to stay connected during the day without anyone growing suspicious.
But of all the moments they shared, Aurora’s favorite thing had become their quiet dinners at Oliver’s flat. The first night they had dinner together had been unintentionally comical. Oliver, it turned out, was ill-prepared to host. His kitchen barely had enough food for one person, let alone two. After a good laugh about it, Oliver had insisted on buying takeout for them, promising he’d stock up and cook for her the next night.
The following evening, true to his word, Oliver made them dinner. But before she arrived, Aurora came prepared. She had noticed how bare and sparse Oliver’s apartment was during their last meal together—minimal furniture, hardly any decoration, and only the essentials in the kitchen. That night, she showed up not just with her appetite but with a small collection of items from her own home. A couple of throw pillows that had been lying around her flat, a giant purple knit blanket she loved but was happy to let live at Oliver’s now, and some spare plates, cups, and cutlery she no longer needed.
When she presented the gifts, Oliver joked about her adding a “woman’s touch” to his bachelor pad, but Aurora could see that he genuinely appreciated it. The small additions made the place feel warmer, cozier—like a space they could share. That evening, with Oliver’s home-cooked meal and the new touches she’d brought, felt more intimate than ever. She hadn’t known Oliver could cook, and she found it endearing. As they shared their meal, Aurora found herself realizing that Oliver was even more attractive than she’d first thought—charming, thoughtful, and capable in the kitchen quite the catch.
After they had finished dinner, the atmosphere shifted slightly. They weren’t in the stadium or surrounded by teammates anymore. It was just the two of them alone in this newly intimate space. Oliver leaned back in his chair, eyes catching hers with a warmth that made her heart race. After a pause, he looked at her with quiet intensity and asked, “Would you like to stay the night?”
There was no hesitation in Aurora’s response. She smiled, her heart fluttering at the question, and nodded.
Aurora’s smile in response to Oliver’s invitation was soft, but her heart raced as if she had been flying at top speed on her broom. The vulnerability in his question, the warmth in his gaze—it felt like the night was inviting them into something deeper. She stood from the table, and Oliver followed suit, leading her toward his bedroom with an easy but nervous silence hanging between them.
His apartment was modest, just like the rest of him, but now, with Aurora's little touches added, it felt more inviting. When they entered his bedroom, Oliver gently took her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles as if he were still unsure if this was real.
“You sure?” he asked quietly, his voice soft in the dim light.
Aurora didn’t say anything at first, but her fingers tightened around him, pulling him a little closer. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with words; everything between them had been unspoken yet perfectly understood. She leaned in and kissed him—slow, deliberate, full of the unspoken feelings they’d been bottling up for weeks. It wasn’t rushed like their stolen kisses during practice or fueled by the adrenaline of being caught. This was different—it was gentle, intimate, filled with the kind of connection that was growing between them.
As they pulled apart, Oliver rested his forehead against hers, his breath a bit uneven as he smiled softly. “I could get used to this.”
They spent the rest of the night in quiet conversation, lying close under the knit blanket Aurora had brought over. It felt like their own little bubble of peace, far away from the pressure of their roles and the need to keep everything secret. For the first time, they let themselves fully relax, just enjoying each other’s presence without the looming threat of being caught.
The next morning, as the sun streamed through the windows, Aurora woke to the smell of breakfast cooking. She found Oliver in the kitchen, still in his pajamas, his hair a bit tousled, and a frying pan in his hand. The sight made her smile. He glanced up and grinned when he saw her.
“Morning. Thought I’d surprise you,” he said, gesturing to the scrambled eggs and toast on the stove.
Aurora walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “You’re full of surprises, Wood.”
They ate breakfast together, a quiet domesticity settling in that neither of them had expected, but it felt natural. Aurora leaned in for one more kiss, feeling the weight of reality starting to creep back in. They’d have to go back to hiding their relationship the moment they stepped out into the world, but for now, she wanted to savor the quiet intimacy they’d built over the last twelve hours.
On the Friday following their secretive week of hidden glances and whispered notes, Oliver had suggested something unexpected after work. He turned to Aurora with a playful grin.
"So, when do I get to see your place?"
Aurora hesitated for a moment. Her apartment wasn’t anything grand—it was a small, cozy one-bedroom, one-bathroom flat with a kitchen and living room that shared a single space.
It was far from the sleek bachelor pad Oliver had, but there was a certain charm to it. Still, she felt a bit nervous, wondering what he’d think of her humble home.
"Sure," she agreed after a beat. "Just don’t expect anything fancy.”
When they arrived, Aurora fumbled with her keys for a moment before letting them both inside. As the door creaked open, Oliver stepped in, his eyes immediately scanning the space, taking in every little detail. The first thing he noticed was the mound of neatly piled books scattered across various corners of the apartment—on the coffee table, stacked next to the armchair, and even in a neat row along the windowsill.
“Books, books, and more books,” Oliver teased, raising an eyebrow as he gently tapped the top of one pile. “I knew you were smart, but Merlin, this is another level.”
Aurora shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve read every one of them.”
"I’d expect nothing less," Oliver said, moving further into the room. His gaze drifted to the small kitchen area, where he immediately noticed the bare shelves and empty countertop. With a smirk, he turned back to her.
"And here you were, judging me for my kitchen being empty. Looks like someone’s a bit of a hypocrite,” he said with a chuckle.
Aurora rolled her eyes, plopping down on the worn-out, overstuffed couch in the corner of the room. “Well, I didn’t invite you over for dinner now, did I?”
Oliver laughed, still wandering around the apartment, taking in the little details that made the space uniquely hers. It was cozy, lived-in, with soft blankets draped over the back of the couch, candles on the windowsill, and the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. The walls were adorned with framed photographs—some of her friends, others from her graduation—and a few whimsical paintings she had probably picked up at a local market.
“You’ve got good taste,” he said, trailing his fingers along the edge of a small shelf lined with potion ingredients. “It’s got that whole ‘organized chaos’ vibe. It suits you.”
Aurora chuckled, her nerves easing a bit. “Organized chaos, huh? That’s one way to describe it.”
As Oliver continued to explore her space, he came across a small, half-finished knit project sitting in a basket by the couch, the yarn spilling out in a tangled mess. He picked it up with a curious smile.
"Didn't know you knitted," he said, looking at the project with interest.
"It’s a stress reliever,” Aurora admitted, crossing her legs as she watched him. “Though, if you can’t tell, I haven’t had much time to finish that one. I've actually only ever finished one. The big purple knit blanket I gave you.”
He placed the knitting back gently, then turned to face her, leaning against the arm of the couch with a warm, playful smile. “You know, for someone so put-together at work, you’re full of surprises. I like it.”
Aurora felt her heart skip another beat as Oliver’s sudden movement caught her off guard. She blinked, watching him shoot up from the couch, his long strides carrying him down the short corridor with an almost mischievous purpose.
"Where exactly do you think you’re going?" she called out, half-laughing, rising from her chair to follow him. She already knew the answer before the words left her mouth.
Oliver paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder with a cheeky grin. "Isn’t it obvious to my little bookworm?" He turned fully, stepping closer to her and placing a soft kiss on the top of her head, his lips lingering just enough to send a shiver down her spine. "I’m going to rummage through your underwear drawer," he teased, his voice dripping with humor, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Aurora rolled her eyes dramatically, but her lips curved into a smile. "Oh, you wouldn’t dare," she said, crossing her arms in mock defiance. But Oliver had already spun back around and flung open the door to her bedroom.
He stood still for a moment, his expression shifting from playful to genuinely surprised as he took in the room. "Well, isn’t this surprising," he mused, a slight note of disbelief in his voice. "Not a single book in sight." He turned back to her, an eyebrow raised as if he'd discovered some grand secret.
Aurora stepped into the doorway behind him, her arms still crossed but her smile softening. “Believe it or not, Oliver, I do manage to keep some parts of my life clutter-free,” she said with a laugh. Her bedroom was a simple, serene space, painted in soft, neutral tones, with a neatly made bed, fluffy pillows, and a light gray duvet. It was minimalist compared to the rest of her apartment, with only a small nightstand, a few candles, and a framed photo on the dresser.
Oliver wandered further into the room, turning slowly as he took it all in. “This is… actually really nice. Cozy. Not what I expected,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair as he stopped by the window, peering out at the city lights beyond.
Aurora stood there, watching him. The way he fit into her space felt surreal, yet strangely right. He belonged here, in her private little sanctuary. "Disappointed there aren't stacks of books everywhere?" she teased, leaning against the doorframe.
Oliver chuckled, shaking his head. "No, just... pleasantly surprised. I like seeing this side of you," he said, his voice softening again as he turned back to face her.
There was something about the way he was looking at her now, standing there in her bedroom, that made the air between them crackle with an unspoken tension. It was the same look he gave her at work when no one was watching, the same look he’d given her under the stars in the empty stadium. Only now, there were no secrets to keep, no walls between them. Just the two of them, alone, with the quiet hum of the city outside.
Aurora felt her pulse quicken, the intimacy of the moment settling between them like a heavy, palpable thing. "You're not really going to go through my drawers, are you?" she asked her voice light but edged with the growing heat in her chest.
Oliver smirked, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between them. He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I’d never invade your privacy like that," he whispered, his hand lingering by her cheek, his thumb tracing the edge of her jaw.
"But I might just stay in here a little longer," he added, his voice low, a grin tugging at his lips. "If that’s alright with you."
Aurora didn’t respond right away, but the look in her eyes said more than words could. She reached for his hand, pulling him toward the bed as she whispered, “It’s more than alright."
The pair toppled onto the bed. Oliver had kissed her. He began kissing her neck when she let out a little laugh. “Sorry, I'm a little ticklish there”
He smiled a little before moving back to kiss her on the lips. The kiss became more passionate and heavy. Aurora was certain that no one had ever kissed her with such determination before. She opened her mouth wider to let him deepen the kiss. He met Aurora's eyes, tugging on her shirt as if asking without words if she would take it off. Quickly, Aurora threw it off and onto the floor, and Oliver did the same. Both were now kissing very rapidly and heavily when a crash came from Aurora's living room.
It was the Floo.
“Rory, are you home?” The voice was unrecognizably pansy. Aurora sat up instantly, knocking heads with Oliver with her hasty movements. He fell onto the bed next to her, sighing, looking disappointed by the rapid cut-off of their hot and heavy makeout.
Oliver winced as he rubbed his forehead, grabbing one of the throw pillows on the bed and placing it over his pants. Aurora was already scrambling to find her shirt, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and embarrassment.
"Merlin’s beard, Pansy!" Aurora hissed under her breath, throwing her shirt back on in record time. She shot Oliver a look that was half-apologetic, half-panicked as she quickly tried to smooth her hair down. "Just a second!" she called out, her voice louder but still tense.
“I wrote to you about meeting up tonight, but you didn’t answer,” Pansy’s voice called out, her heels clicking as she moved closer to the hallway. “I assumed you’d be home by now.”
Aurora hadn’t been home all week, having spent most nights at Oliver’s place, and had completely missed Pansy’s letter. Now, standing in her room with a half-dressed Oliver, panic surged through her.
Oliver, catching her wide-eyed expression, gave her a reassuring smile and mouthed, It’s okay. He quickly pulled on his shirt, still keeping the pillow in his lap. There was no hiding the situation they were in
Pansy’s footsteps had stopped right outside her door. The handle turned slowly.
“Aurora, you in there?” Pansy’s voice had a curious lilt, and as the door opened slightly, her head popped in. Her eyes immediately fell on Oliver sitting on the bed, and her face broke into a wide, knowing grin. “Well, well, well... If it isn’t Oliver Wood.”
“Pansy, I—uh—” Aurora started, struggling to explain the scene. But Pansy cut her off with a gleeful laugh.
“You couldn’t just tear up the Quidditch pitch—you had to tear up Aurora’s sheets as well?" she teased, her smirk wide and wicked.
Aurora flushed crimson, shooting Oliver a helpless look. “Pansy, it's not what you think," she started, but it was no use. Pansy was clearly enjoying every second of their embarrassment.
“Oh, please,” Pansy waved her hand dismissively. Spare me the excuses. I’m just surprised you thought to keep this little affair a secret from me; your best friend, Aurora, I'm hurt.”
Oliver cleared his throat, stepping in to help. “We’ve been trying to keep things... discreet,” he admitted, giving Aurora a quick, comforting glance. “It’s complicated, with work and all.”
Pansy’s eyes gleamed with amusement as she took in the situation. “Discreet? Well, you’re not doing a great job of that, are you?” she quipped, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.
Aurora could see the humor in Pansy’s eyes but also the curiosity. Pansy wasn’t mad—she was entertained.
“I should have known something was up when you started spending all that time away from your flat," Pansy continued, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "You were practically living at Oliver’s place, weren't you?”
Aurora opened her mouth to respond, but Pansy just laughed again, waving her off. “Honestly, I don’t care. I just wanted to catch up, but clearly, I’m interrupting... something.”
Oliver grinned, finally relaxing a little. “You always have perfect timing, Pansy.”
Pansy shot him a wink before stepping back toward the door. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your... ‘evening’ I’ll owl you tomorrow, Aurora. We need to discuss everything—and I mean everything.” With the last word, she put her hands together in front of her and slowly separated them. It was meant to be a snide joke about Oliver's 'size'. However, Oliver did not laugh.
As soon as he realized what Pansy was referring to, he shut the door with a “goodbye now”
As soon as Pansy was gone, Aurora let out a long breath, leaning back against the door. “That was... a disaster,” she muttered, her hand over her face.
Oliver chuckled softly, stepping closer to her and pulling her into his arms. “Not a disaster. Just... a minor bump in our perfectly discreet relationship,” he teased, his voice light and soothing.
Aurora groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Do you think she’s going to tell everyone?”
Oliver kissed the top of her head, his arms wrapped around her tightly. “Maybe. But honestly... would that be so bad?”
Aurora looked up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You really don’t care?”
Oliver smiled down at her, his eyes full of warmth. “We had a good 4 carefree days, but what I really care about is you. Everything else? We’ll figure it out.”
Aurora’s heart melted a little at his words. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Maybe,” Oliver agreed, leaning down to kiss her softly. “But you’re stuck with me now.”
Aurora chuckled softly, her mood lightening as Oliver’s words sank in. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of relief and affection.
“Stuck with you, huh?” she teased, her fingers tracing lightly along his arm. “I guess I could do worse.”
Oliver’s smile softened, and he took her hand in his. “So, what’s next on our agenda? Dinner?”
Aurora looked at him, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well, you know, Pansy’s timing might have thrown us off, but that doesn’t mean we can’t salvage the evening.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And how do you propose we do that?”
Aurora grinned, pulling him toward the small kitchen. “Let’s make a night of it. We’ll cook together, and then, if we’re lucky, we’ll get some quiet time without any more interruptions.” Aurora said the last part with a cheeky smile.
Oliver’s smile broadened as he followed Aurora into the kitchen. He felt an undeniable sense of contentment. He couldn’t help but marvel at how well they worked together, even when things didn’t go as planned.
“Alright,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s see what we can salvage from your sparse supplies. I’ll be the chef, and you can be my trusty sous-chef.”
Aurora laughed, shaking her head as she began rummaging through her cupboards. “You’re on. But don’t expect a gourmet meal; my kitchen’s as bare as yours.”
Aurora hopped onto the counter near the sink, a playful glint in her eyes as Oliver searched the cabinets for something to make. The small kitchen, with its worn wooden cabinets and cluttered countertops, felt cozy and intimate.
When Oliver opened the fridge, Aurora’s gaze landed on a tub of frosting that had been pushed to the back. Her eyes lit up with a mischievous sparkle. “Oh, wait, can I have that?” she pointed at the fridge. Oliver’s hand grazed the container of orange juice as he reached for the frosting.
“No, not that—the frosting,” Aurora clarified, her excitement evident. As Oliver handed her the container, she grabbed a spoon that was drying near the sink, her anticipation growing.
“Are you really going to eat that and spoil the amazing dinner I'm going to cook you?” Oliver had now closed the distance by leaning on the counter with his hands on either side of Aurora.
Without missing a beat, Aurora dipped her finger into the frosting and, with a grin, promptly smeared it on Oliver’s nose. “Maybe I just wanted to add a little sweetness to the evening.”
Oliver’s eyes widened in surprise, and he laughed, trying to brush the frosting off his nose. “Oh, you’re on, Miss Frosting Bandit. I’m going to have to retaliate.”
Aurora burst into laughter, trying to hide her own frosting-covered spoon. She hopped off the counter, and Oliver, with mock seriousness, chased her around the flat. The sound of their laughter bounced off the walls, filling the small space with joy.
Oliver caught up with her by the sofa, his arms reaching out playfully. He grinned as he managed to trap her against the couch. “Gotcha!” he declared triumphantly.
Aurora squealed as he lifted her effortlessly around the middle, raising her completely off the floor. “Oliver, no!” she laughed, wriggling in his grip.
Oliver’s eyes danced with mischief as he began to tickle her relentlessly.
Aurora’s laughter filled the room as she squirmed in his arms. “Okay, okay! I give up! You win!”
Oliver’s strong arms held her securely, but his touch was gentle and affectionate. He finally set her down, both of them breathless and grinning from ear to ear. Aurora’s hair was slightly disheveled, and her cheeks were flushed from laughter.
As they caught their breath, Oliver pulled Aurora close, wrapping his arms around her. Aurora rested her head against his shoulder, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat.
They stood there for a moment, enjoying the closeness. The frosting incident had become a cherished memory, a playful moment that had brought them even closer.
Eventually, they returned to the kitchen, where Oliver set about preparing dinner with renewed enthusiasm. Aurora watched him with a smile, appreciating how he handled the situation with such ease and affection.
“Alright, chef,” Aurora said, handing him a mixing bowl. “What’s the plan for this meal?”
Oliver took the bowl from her with a wink. “We’re going to make the best pasta ever with whatever we’ve got.”
They cooked in a comfortable silence. It wasn't until they were about to finish cooking that Oliver spoke.
“I have to admit,” Oliver said, glancing at Aurora with a smile, “this might not be the gourmet meal I envisioned, but it’s turning out to be one of the best evenings I’ve had.”