Today's line: "Oh, God. Not this again." For IdrisLady, who requested the following complaint.
They're sitting at a café on the Strand, sipping coffee and waving idly at all the people staring at them from across the street, pushing their heads together and mumbling in low voices.
"I'm still not sure this is a good idea," Oliver says, keeping his face neutral and taking a gulp of his coffee – black, one sugar – as he tries not to think about whether the people are saying positive things about them or not.
Aidan grins unconcernedly. "We have to show them that we're not worried about what they think," he replies, swirling a spoon around the froth on his cinnamon cappuccino. "That we know they're watching us and we don't care, because there's nothing wrong with what we're doing."
Oliver lifts his coffee cup in a sort of salute, before he's interrupted by someone tapping him politely on the shoulder. "Excuse me," a cool female voice says. "You're Oliver Wood."
He turns to face her, lowering his sunglasses; she's blonde, willowy and wearing a severe expression. "Really?" he asks her sarcastically. "Thanks for letting me know."
Aidan chuckles into his coffee cup. The woman actually spares a tiny smile for the quip, which makes Oliver relax slightly. Then she starts talking. "You're welcome. I just – when I heard I was absolutely astonished that you would do something like this."
Oliver sighs. "Oh, God. Not this again."
"No," the girl says quickly. "I just wanted to say – I hope next time you two play each other you actually try. If we catch even hints that you haven't played your best against the Donegal Dragons, that you've let them win for your personal relationship with the Seeker, we'll come after you. And it won't be pretty."
For a moment Oliver stares at her. Then he bursts out laughing. "Sorry," he gasps out; the girl looks hugely put out by his reaction. "You think I'm going to let Aidan's team win the next time I play them? Even if I hadn't expressly stated in my original statement to the press that neither of us would let our personal relationship affect the way we played Quidditch, we played the Dragons last week, so it'll be months before we come up against each other. And neither of us is that sort of person, so please, don't worry. No need to mobilise the fans."
The girl stands in front of him for a moment longer, before huffing something Oliver doesn't quite catch and storming off. Oliver looks at Aidan to see that the blond is biting his lip in a struggle not to laugh and snorts, shaking his head. "As if the Keeper could ever influence the Seeker's performance, anyway," he says.
"You know, though," Aidan says thoughtfully, draining the last of his cappuccino and standing up, "we haven't flown together yet. Like, just flown for the sake of flying."
Oliver grins and stands up too. "Would you like to?" he asks, feeling a thrill go through him at the thought of flying, the joy of his life, with Aidan by his side.
Aidan beams. "I'd love to."
They send a cheery salute to the people still watching them on their way down the street away from the café, and Oliver catches sight of a few camera-flashes directed at them when Aidan loops an arm around his waist and tugs him possessively close. He smiles and leans closer.