Ice Cream Stall: OliverDudley

Word Count: 459


Dudley hates himself for feeling so nervous, but it's hard not to. After he's spent years giving his cousin hell, why would Harry do something nice for him? This blind date is probably just a clever guise, and payback is inevitable. What sort of humiliation does Harry have planned for him?

"Dudley?"

He looks up, and he forgets how to speak. The man standing before him his absolutely gorgeous. Chocolate puppy dog eyes with long lashes, short and neatly styled hair, and a crooked grin that could make anyone melt.

"Oliver Wood," the man says, his eyes moving over Dudley's body. "I'm a friend of your cousin's."

Maybe Harry is looking out for him after all.

"Harry says you're an athlete?" Oliver says as their waiter brings their entrees.

Dudley nods. He hates how giddy he feels. He's used to being in control, but Oliver is so alluring. It's hard not to look away. "I, uh, I box," he answers proudly.

"Yes. Harry explained it to me. The Muggle thing where they punch one another," Oliver says, and the smile on his lips makes it obvious that he's proud of himself for his knowledge. "I'm a professional Quidditch player. Keeper for Puddlemere."

Dudley doesn't know what Quidditch is exactly. He's sure that his cousin has mentioned it before, but it seems that it hasn't stuck. All he can do is smile and say, "I'll be you are a keeper."

He thinks he's so clever. Oliver cracks a polite smile. Of course he's heard that a million times before.

"How's your steak?" Oliver asks.

"Delicious."

Dudley hates that the night has to end. Oliver walks him home, and everything feels so right, like they've been meant to find one another since the dawn of time. Oliver tells him about Quidditch and his time at Hogwarts. Once, it would have scared Dudley away, but now he clings to every word, so eager to be part of that world.

Dudley tells him about his own life. University is mess. He doesn't know what he wants to do and where to go. But Oliver listens, and it makes Dudley feel like he actually matters.

"I don't want to say goodnight," Dudley admits, and color burns his cheeks.

"Me neither," Oliver agrees.

He wants to invite Oliver up, but his father might lose his mind. Some days, it isn't even worth the fight.

"I have a match this weekend," Oliver tells him. "Would you like to come? We can have drinks at mine after."

"I'd love to."

Oliver leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. Dudley smiles. It's the first time he's ever truly seen the appeal of the wizarding world; he never wants to lose that feeling of magic.