Weekend at Krum Manor

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

moaning Lisa smile - wolf alice

She needs a lover to escape her father and motherShe hopes for some other way out of the holeShe's over achieving, chasing her dreamsAnd coming down slowly, yeah, it's out of control

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

Zora drags her feet along the gravel path leading up to the Krum Manor. The long row of poplar trees stretches endlessly before her, their towering forms closing in. It feels like they're trying to swallow her whole.

That's exactly how she's felt all week.

Swallowed. Hollowed out. She walks, but barely feels the ground. Thinks, but barely hears her thoughts. All she knows is the ache lodged in her chest.

No letter. No offer. No try-outs.

No Bulgarian National Team.

She feels like someone picked her up, crumpled her into a ball, and threw her to the side of the road.

Her dream—the thing she woke up for every morning, trained for, bled for, sacrificed so much for—has shattered. All that time. All that effort.

Gone. Ruined. Destroyed.

Sure, she's supposed to be happy. That's what Angelina and Adeline keep telling her. She got selected for two national teams. Even got try-outs for Scotland. Taken by the Vultures, her favorite regional team since she was a child. It's a huge opportunity. She knows that.

But it's not her team.

Back to the day they all opened their letters, after opening her last, Zora has smiled. Told everyone it was fine. That she was lucky. Five offers, after all. She hugged everyone. Said the right words. Even laughed a little.

Then she locked herself in her room and cried until her head felt like it was going to explode, until her body gave in and she passed out from exhaustion.

Zora isn't someone who cries much. She's learned not to.

In her family, you're not allowed to cry. Her mother said it ruined her pretty eyes. She always told her "pretty lady doesn't cry". It's seen as a weakness. The Krum's are not weak. And if she wanted to be taken as seriously as Viktor, she couldn't afford weakness. If she wanted people to believe she was just as capable, she couldn't show them anything but strength.

So she built herself up. Bit her tongue. Swallowed her tears. Hid behind sharp remarks and sharper eyes. She grew up in the mold of masculinity—Viktor's masculinity—in his footsteps, in his shadow.

It was the only way she knew how to survive. To live on her own terms.

When she woke up the next morning, her head was pounding, stomach turning, eyes raw. She tried to sit up. Failed. Tried again. This time it worked. That's when she saw the note on her bedside table.

She frowned, confused. Viktor leaving sweet notes? Unlikely.

Zora picked it up with two fingers and opened it.

Meet me by the lake when you're up. Near the big rock. If you want.

– OW.

She frowned. She sat down again. A war started inside her—part of her wanted nothing more than to see him. To hear his voice, reassuring, calming, his hand on her, grounding. 

The other part? Ashamed. Ashamed of wanting something so badly when he never had a choice.

She ran a hand through her hair, thoughtful. Then finally got up, showered, dressed, and headed out.

When she reached the lake, Oliver was already there. Leaning against the rocks. Tossing pebbles into the water, focused on the way it made the water move. 

She sat beside him. He jumped slightly, surprised.

They didn't say anything at first. Their shoulders brushed. Legs stretched out before them. How many times have they sat like this? In quiet that says more than words ever could?

During the storm back at camp. After his panic attack. Now.

Neither of them seemed ready to talk about what happened the night before. But it lingered between them, sharp on the tip of their tongues.

Zora sighed.

"What are you doing this weekend?" she asked, trying to keep it casual.

From the corner of her eye, she saw his brows knit.

"Why?" he said. 

"Everyone from camp's meeting at our place. One last time, you know?" she said softly. "Just... if you wanna come. I know this weekend is the begining of Easter Holiday and you have to go home and-"

She let out a dry laugh, then shook her head. "No, actually—I want you there. I really do. A lot. But I'll understand if you have to go home."

He turned his head toward her, took a breath. "I really have to go. I promised Nora," he said, voice low.

Zora nodded and looked away. "Yeah. I get it."

He reached out and gently pressed his hand to her cheek, turning her toward him again.

"I'm sorry. But know that if I could... I'd be there. Okay?"

Zora offered a small smile, nodding.

Then he brought both hands to her face, cradling it like something precious.

"If I could, I'd come and I'd love to see your home. Where you grew up. I'd want you to show me everything—Nikita, the rooms you hate, the hiding spots you had with Viktor, the thing you do when you're bored, the Quidditch pitch you made, the river you always talk about. All of it. But I've got things I need to handle."

Each word melted something inside her. The thought only that he wants to know her like that, see her world, meant everything.

She leant into his hand. "I get it. Next time."

Oliver held her gaze like he wanted to make sure she truly believed him. Then he dropped his hands and looked back at the lake.

"How are you feeling?" she asked after a pause.

He cleared his throat. "Let's just say... I'm getting used to the fact it's going to be Puddlemre."

Zora let out a weak laugh. "Come on, Scotland. I forbid you not to even think about it. At least over the holidays."

"I can't. You know I can't—"

"For fuck's sake, Oliver," she said, her voice sharper now. She turned toward him. "Just promise me you'll think about it."

His jaw tensed. Fingers twisting together. "It's just... I— I don't—" He stoped. Took a breath. "I don't want to let myself dream about something I know I'll never get. That's torture, Zora. That's what you're asking me to do."

She watched him. Quiet. "Just promise me," she said in a whisper, almost begging. 

He looked at her a long time before speaking. "I promise."

Silence again. Peaceful. 

"It's a beautiful day," he said finally. "Thought it might do you good to be outside. I know how much you love the sun."

For once, Zora hadn't even noticed. The warmth kissing her arms, the endless blue of the sky, the sun glinting off the water. The gentle wind rustling the leaves in a song only nature could write. The soft promise of summer.

The fact that he knew her so well.

She couldn't help but smile, his little attention making her heart ache a little less. "You were right. Thank you."

He shifted, sitting a little straighter.

"Look, I'm not going to say I'm sorry about the Bulgarian team. Or that it's okay. Or that you have other options. You already know all that. I know what it's like to lose something you've worked your whole life for. It's hell."

He paused. Looked at her. "But please. Don't let this define you. Not getting that offer doesn't mean you didn't deserve it. It doesn't mean you're not good enough. You're the best damn chaser I've ever seen."

Zora exhaled a shaky laugh. "You're biased, Oliver Wood."

"I am serious, Zora Krum. Promise me?"

She finally turned to him. "I promise."

And that promise plays on repeat in her mind ever since. It's the weekend now, Oliver is at home and Zora walking to hers. 

She's trying. God, she's trying.

To not let the failure sink in. To not spiral into the darkness her mind can craft so easily. To not fall into her mother's plans. To ignore that voice whispering, "See, Zora? Maybe you weren't meant for this."

She already knows it, she will have to face everyone, her friends's face fall when they hear she hasn't got in, her mother comments about how it confirms the fact she has to focus on whatever future she has all figure out for her.

She's trying to keep her self-belief alive—what little of it she has left.

In the distance, she spots Adeline and Angelina, walking with Viktor ahead of her. Samuel, Andrew, Thomas are supposed to arrive later tonight.

But the weekend feels different now. Tainted by the news. And by Oliver's absence.

"Слънце, you okay?" Viktor asks, stopping and looking back at her.

Zora bit her tongue. Swallows her tears. Flashes a smile. 

"Always."

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

Evening falls quickly over the manor.

Viktor, Adeline, Angelina, and Zora sit in the winter garden, beers in hand, bathed in purple and golden light the sunset offers tonight. They're waiting for the boys to arrive, talking lazily about the final weeks at Hogwarts. Zora sits in her favorite armchair near the glass wall, legs curled beneath her, Nikita lying at her feet.

The three others are already tipsy, giggling over nothing, while Zora still hasn't finished her first beer. She tries to blend in, to play the part, but pretending turns out to be harder than she expected.

"Do you think you'll keep seeing Ivan after graduation?" Angelina asks Adeline, her voice casual but eyes sharp as she sips from her bottle.

Perfect. Just what Zora needed. Talking about fucking Ivan. She rolls her eyes and prays Adeline didn't notice.

"I think so," Adeline replies, then adds with a small shrug, "Well, that's what he said, anyway."

She turns to Viktor with a smile. "What do you think?"

Viktor straightens up, caught off guard by the question. He clears his throat, looking mildly panicked.

"I mean... I don't know, Ad. We don't really talk about that kind of stuff. Not like that."

Zora can't help but snort with laughter. "What do you guys talk about then? How strong you are, how many pounds of stone you can lift, and whether you had enough protein at lunch?"

"Idiot," Viktor mutters at her, smiling. 

"So that means he hasn't talked to you about me at all?" Adeline asks suddenly, more serious now.

Viktor opens his mouth, pauses. Nothing comes out for a few seconds.

And then — voices from the living room behind them.

Saved by the bell.

"That must be them," Zora says quickly, getting to her feet. Nikita immediately follows behind her. 

She walks through the short hallway and enters the living room, frowning when she sees no one. She's sure she heard something.

Her eyes scan the room — the grand fireplace where they were meant to arrive, the piano, the velvet sofas.

Just as she turns to head back to the winter garden, three figures jump out from behind the curtains, yelling in unison to scare her.

Zora blinks. Barely flinches.

The boys deflate instantly. Samuel steps forward, arms in the air. "You are inhuman, Krum."

Andrew looks absolutely devastated. "Can't even scare our favorite Bulgarian anymore. What is the world coming to?"

Zora smiles. "Oh, come here, all of you idiots. Group hug, now."

The three of them rush into her arms, pulling her into a tight squeeze.

"Okay, now I can't breathe," Zora laughs, her voice muffled against someone's jacket. "I missed you idiots so much."

"Thanks for having us," Thomas says warmly.

Andrew crouches down in front of Nikita. "Hey there, remember me?"

Nikita doesn't even glance at him and trots straight back toward the winter garden.

They all laugh. "God, Andrew," Zora teases. "It's just like with girls, isn't it ? All ignorance and walking away."

Andrew gives her his middle finger without looking back as he walk toward the winter garden, Thomas chuckling at his heels. That leaves just Zora and Samuel in the living room.

Samuel looks at her quietly, smiling slightly. He steps forward and pulls her back into a hug, this time slower, tighter.

Zora closes her eyes and melts into it, like she's been holding her breath for weeks and finally exhales. Any comfort she can find, she'll take it.

"I'm sorry, Z," he whispers into her hair.

She squeezes him tighter. He's the only one from the three of them who already knows. She had send him a letter telling him about the fact she hadn't received a letter from the Bulgarian National team. 

They stay like that for a while. Finally, Zora pulls back.

"Let's not talk about it. It's the weekend. We're here to enjoy ourselves."

He ruffles her hair with a soft chuckle. "Still. I know how much you wanted to make the national team."

Zora lets out a long, tired sigh. "Yeah. Life's funny like that, Sam. You just... deal with it."

He's about to say something else, but she whips out her wand and points it right at his chest.

"One more word about it and I'll hex you back to Uganda. Got it?"

Samuel raises both hands in surrender, smiling. "Okay, okay. Message received."

She eyes him up and down, her tone shifting back to playful. "Well, well. Was it your girlfriend who pushed you to get even more fit than last time? You're about to lift off, Ntembe."

He nudges her shoulder with his. "You love it, Krum. Don't even try me."

She rolls her eyes and starts walking back toward the winter garden but he stops her.

"Speaking of girlfriends and boyfriends and all that... Captain Gryffindor not here yet?"

She can hear Samuel's smile in his voice, even if she can't see him. She freezes her mid-step.

She turns slowly, eyes narrowing. "Who told you?"

Samuel's grin only widens. He shrugs. "No one. It's just—"

"Never mind, I know," Zora cuts him off, spinning back around. She cups her hands and yells down the hall: "DURAND!"

They meet back Andrew and Thomas who were still in the hall putting down their trunk for the weekend and they all go to the winter garden together. 

"You bellowed?" Andrew shouts from the hallway, arms spread wide as he enters the room.

The others cheer as the boys walk in, they all hug — beers are passed around, spots claimed on the couches and floor, and soon they're all nestled together in a loose circle.

"So," Viktor says, tipping his bottle toward Samuel. "You've been suspiciously quiet, Ntembe. Tell us. Who got you?"

Samuel leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, trying to act nonchalant — but there's a glint in his eyes he can't hide.

"The Montrose Magpies, ladies and gents."

A chorus of gasps and whistles breaks out.

"What?!" Zora nearly chokes on her drink. "You kept that from me?"

He shrugs with a smile. "Had to wait for the perfect moment. Which, apparently, is now."

"Mate," Andrew adds, raising his bottle in salute. "That's massive. Congrats."

Everyone cheers again. Adeline throws a cushion at him. "You're an idiot. I'm so proud."

Andrew's smile widens. "Speaking of offers... I'm going to France."

Adeline's eyes widen. "What?"

He laughs. "Yep. Same team as you, actually."

Adeline stares. "Quiberon?"

Andrew nods, pleased with himself. "Surpriiise. Looks like you're stuck with me a bit longer."

She groans and hides her face in her hands. "Great. There goes my peace and sanity."

"Oh please," he smiles. "You'll love it."

"Wait, I may crush the tryouts for the French National Team !" Adeline adds. 

"I'm sure you will," says Viktor gently. 

Then all eyes turn to Thomas. He doesn't even wait for the question. "French National Team."

A stunned silence follows, broken only by Viktor's soft "That's awesome man."

Adeline gasps, half-rising from her seat. "Thomas!"

Thomas shrugs, trying to stay humble, but there's a proud glow in his cheeks. "They approached me right after a training at Beauxbâtons. I thought it was a prank at first."

More congratulations, more clinks of bottles, and more laughter. But Zora stays quiet.

She's curled up in her armchair again, the condensation on her beer leaving wet rings on the side table. Nikita is now dozing under her chair. Her fingers trail along the bottle's label, picking at it.

No one asks her. Maybe they all know. Maybe they're too kind. 

The conversation shifts.

Thomas turns toward Adeline. "So, since Mademoiselle I-disappear-for-months left us in September, do you want the full Beauxbâtons drama update?"

Adeline groans. "God, hit me. What did I miss?"

"Oh, everything." Thomas leans in. "First, Professor Ledent finally got caught having a thing with two professors. Two, Adeline. And one of them was married."

Angelina whistles. "No!"

"Yes," Thomas nods. "Then Léa Milo got suspended for bewitching a prefect to do her Transfiguration essays for a whole semester."

Adeline throws her head back laughing. "Classic Léa!"

"And guess who's dating now?" Thomas adds.

"No."

"Yes. Camille and Nicolas."

"No!" Adeline repeats, scandalized. "They hate each other."

"They used to. Now they make out in the corridor every morning before breakfast."

"God, France seems a lot pack of drama, uh ?" says Angelina. 

Eventually, the fire in the chimney dies. The laughter softens into yawns. One by one, they start to rise, stretching and talking about beds, showers, and long weekend ahead.

"Night, you beautiful," Angelina mumbles, swaying slightly as she kisses Zora on the cheek.

"Don't die before breakfast," Viktor calls before leaving.

Adeline pats Zora's shoulder. "Wake me if you need anything, okay? We're in your room."

Zora nods. "Sleep well."

They all walk out, trailing footsteps and sleepy giggles. Samuel is the only one who doesn't move.

He glances at her. "You staying?"

Zora nods, shifting to sit cross-legged in the sofa. She pats the sofa beside her.

He takes the invitation and sits down, letting out a long breath as he sinks into the cushions.

Nikita is curled up across Zora's lap, snoring faintly. 

"So," she says, without looking at him, "Your girlfriend. Tell me about her."

He smiles widely. "Well, let's see. Her name is Asha. We met through my mom."

She narrows her eyes. "And it's going good ?"  

Samuel leans his head back against the couch. "Yeah. Yeah, we're good."

She looks at him sideways. "That didn't sound entirely convincing."

"No, it is," he says, more firmly this time. "She's great. You'd like her, actually. She's got this terrifying calmness. Like she could kill you politely and you'd thank her."

Zora smiles. "Sounds lovely."

"We're moving in together in September in London," he adds. 

Zora blinks. "Oh."

"Yeah. She got a position at a research lab out there. Magical genetics."

Zora raises an eyebrow. "Damn. You're dating someone with an actual grown-up job. And like a smart-ass badass."

"I know," Samuel laughs. "It's terrifying. We're doing the whole adult thing."

"You're gonna have matching toothbrush holders," she teases.

He grins. "We already do."

"Disgusting."

They both laugh. 

Zora toys with the corner of the blanket draped over her legs, her voice softer now. "That's good though. I'm happy for you."

He nudges her foot with his. "Thanks. It's just, it's scary, you know ? Growing up and feeling like you loose a part of yourself in the process."

She nods. Then he looks at her.

"What about you and Wood?"

Zora exhales slowly. "I don't know."

Samuel tilts his head. "That bad?"

"No, it's not bad," she says quickly. "It's... good. So so good. I like him. Like a lot. I don't know. It feels so natural. I'm at ease with him, at peace."

"But?" Samuel says.

Zora shrugs. "But I don't know what happens after this year. After Hogwarts. Everything feels... temporary. Like it's all lit by this huge countdown clock. We're both really into Quidditch. We live for it. What if we end up in different countries? What if Quidditch ruins everything before anything even starts properly?"

Samuel nods slowly. "You've been thinking about that a lot."

"Trying not to," she says. "But yeah."

"Well, you know, you both-" 

She cuts him off. "Don't even think about saying something sappy like 'I always knew you two would end up together.'"

Samuel raises both hands innocently. "I wasn't."

"Good."

"Honestly, I was too busy thinking we would to tell you that."

Zora freezes for half a second. Then blinks at him. He meets her gaze with a small smile. 

"Don't worry," he adds. "It's all gone now."

She looks away. She has never been good with this kind of situation. 

Samuel smiles again. "But for what it's worth, he suits you better than I do. You and Wood—you speak the same language. You just match, you know ? You collide, but in a good way. And honestly, this last summer at camp, everyone noticed it. Well, except you."

Zora lets her head fall back onto the couch, groaning. "What did I say about the sappy things ?"

He chuckles. "No, but really. I'm glad. For both of you." 

She smiles and puts her head on his shoulder. "Look at me going all soft now."

"Well, it suits you," he adds. 

She smiles, then goes quiet again.

"Back to Asha," she says, trying to lighten the mood. "You're not scared about the whole adult life, you're just scared that she won't throw passes as good as I do when you'll play quidditch, isn't it ?"

Samuel smiles. "Obviously. No one throws better passes than you. And she doesn't swear nearly enough."

Zora smiles too. "High standards."

He raises his bottle. "You set them."

A beat. Then she adds, softly, "You would've been a terrible boyfriend, by the way."

He laughs. "Fuck you. You too."

They both laugh and Zora feels a little bit lighter. 

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

The next morning, Zora is up at dawn. Sleep is impossible.

She leaves Adeline and Angelina behind, both still sound asleep. The soft rhythm of their breathing gently fills the room, steady and peaceful.

The wooden shutters barely let in the first hints of light, casting a dusty golden haze across the air. She tiptoes carefully, stepping over Angelina's sleeping form on the floor mattress, and quietly closes the door behind her.

The bathroom tiles are icy against her bare feet. Exhausted, she splashes cold water on her face and stares at her reflection in the mirror.

Massive dark circles. Pale skin. Cracked lips.

She lets out a slow breath and steps under the shower, letting the water fall on her skin, hoping to wake up a bit. When she steps out, she feels a little more awake, a little more herself. She looks through the old wardrobe in search of something to wear.

She pulls on a pair of worn shorts and keeps digging until—bingo. She reaches into the back and pulls out a shirt.

And freezes.

Her face falls as she recognizes it. The shirt she wore to cheer on Viktor during the World Cup. National team colors—deep red and black.

Zora swallows hard. Her stomach tightens. She inspects the fabric, running her fingers over the bold letters printed on the back.

KRUM.

Too big for her. Always was.

Her name. But not for her. Could have been. 

She slips it on anyway. It smells like hopes that didn't quite make it. She grabs a pair of socks, rushes down the creaky staircase, and is immediately greeted by her dog.

"Hey, beautiful," she says with a tired smile, crouching to scratch Nikita behind the ears. "Wanna go for a walk?"

At the word walk, the dog transforms. Tail wagging, she bolts straight for the back door that opens onto the estate.

Zora smiles and pulls on her old rubber boots that goes up below her knees. A glance at the kitchen clock—barely seven.

She needs air. She needs to move. To find her footing again by the river, with her dog, surrounded by things that are real and grounding and won't vanish just because she didn't get her dream.

She steps outside. The air is cool but not cold. The sun rises shyly behind the forest, gently waking the trees. Dew clings to the grass, sparkling. The air is thick with the scent of fresh blooms—almost sweet.

"Niki? You ready?" she calls, walking a few steps forward. But the dog is nowhere in sight.

She frowns. She heads back toward the front of the manor, calling Nikita's name. Then, as she rounds the side of the building—

"There you are—Nikita! Come bak here!" she says, quickening her pace as she spots her dog charging toward someone.

She never runs toward strangers.

Except... that's no stranger.

It's Oliver.

Standing there, barely managing to stay upright as Nikita jumps on him. He laughs, bag slung over one shoulder, scratching behind her ears in greeting.

Zora's heart drops. She thinks about a dream first. She thinks maybe she is still sleeping. But after a few second, she doesn't think and runs to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

He catches her without hesitation, arms wrapping tightly around her as he buries his face in her hair.

They stay like that for a moment, holding on in the early morning stillness. 

Oliver hugs her tighter, takes a deep breath, and finally leans back slightly. One hand stays on her back, the other comes up to brush her cheek. He studies her face and smiles softly.

"Hi."

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asks, half-laughing, half-confused.

"I had today off. I have to be back tomorrow morning, early, though—I need to pick Nora up from a birthday party," he says, calm as ever.

Zora narrows her eyes. "So you crossed half the continent... for less than a day?"

Oliver smiles, tongue resting against his teeth. "Well, you know,—I owed Nikita a visit. She seems pretty happy to see me. The feeling's mutual."

She looks down at the dog, who is practically vibrating with excitement between them. Then back at him. "Mhm. Sure. For the dog."

They smile at each other. Zora finally pulls away and tilts her head. "Care for a walk?"

He nods, and they turn back toward the house.

"So this is the Krum Manor?" he asks, hands stuffed in his pockets.

She nods. "That's the one. Three haunted rooms and freezing winters. But it's great for hosting. Best part's the estate, though. You'll see."

He drops his bag in the winter garden and follows her out. She explains the layout of the gardens—her mum's prized roses, the fruit trees, the too-perfect symmetry of the French formal section—until they reach the edge of the woods.

It's cooler under the trees. The sun hides behind the canopy.

"How's your mum doing?" Zora asks.

Oliver clears his throat. "It's complicated. I don't think she recognized me last night, but she was calm. She ate. I told her a bit about life at Hogwarts. She responded... sort of."

He runs a hand along the back of his neck. Then he nudges her with his shoulder.

"What?" she laughs.

"I, uh... I told her about you."

Zora blushes. Actually blushes. She never blushes. She turns away, just slightly, before looking back at him. "Me?"

He nods. "Yes. You, Zora."

"What did you tell her?" she asks.

"Oh, you know. The usual. That you're insufferable on and off the pitch, way too confident, always got something to say..." He pauses. "But still the best player I've ever seen."

She nods. "Sounds about right."

He hesitates. Then, softly, "And I might've added that you've more or less taken up all the space in my head lately."

Zora bites her lip. Turns to him. "Have you, now? And... did she say anything?"

Oliver chuckles. "That was the part she was most interested in, actually. Asked for your name. What you looked like. If you were nice to me."

He smiles. "I couldn't answer the last one."

She jabs him in the ribs but laughs, her heart light. The only thought of him telling his mum about her, like that, makes everything feel more real. Solid. Comforting, even. She didn't know she needed that. 

"She's at St Mungo's today and tomorrow," he continues. "My dad took her on his way to work this morning. They'll be back tomorrow night. She's having more tests. Checking her motor function and... everything else. We'll see."

They finally reach the river, winding calmly through the forest. Nikita is already splashing in.

Zora carefully climbs down onto a flat rock and sits. Oliver joins her.

"And Nora? Was she happy to see you?" she asks, tossing a stick into the water.

"Yeah. Made me play dolls and trains. Utterly exhausting," he says with a grin. "But she seemed good. I'm glad she's with friends. That she's not isolating herself."

Zora smiles. "You're a really good big brother, Oliver"

He exhales. "I don't think so. But I try."

She eyes him. "I'd pay to see you play dolls, Wood."

He rolls his eyes and flicks water at her.

"Hey!" she laughs.

"You-, you look hot, by the way," he says suddenly, eyes drifting from her messy hair down to the oversized t-shirt sliding off one shoulder, to her bare legs and muddy boots.

"Hot?" she raises an eyebrow. "In this old thing?"

He leans in slowly, fingers gently sliding the shirt back up her shoulder. Then his hand trails down—along her ribs, over her waist, her hip, her thigh.

Her breath catches. He looks up at her, eyes finding hers. "Yes. Very sexy. Even in rain boots, brèagha*."

Zora tilts her head back, trying to hold herself together at the sound of his accent wrapping around that word.

"Brèagha?" she repeats, wanting him to explain the word .

He only smiles—and kisses her.

Finally.

She melts into him, climbing closer, her arm looping around his neck to pull him in. His hand tightens on her thigh as she sighs into his mouth. 

"Should we go back?" she says between kisses, reluctantly. "The others are probably awake."

Oliver groans and doesn't stop kissing her—her lips, her jaw, her neck, the curve of her collarbone where the shirt slips again.

Then he finally pulls back, breathless. "Fine."

They stand. Zora calls for Nikita, who's far downstream.

"The others are going to freak out when they see you," she says, excited.

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

Zora grabs his hand and smiles.

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

By the time they reach the manor, the quiet of the morning has faded into signs of life. Voices drift out from the kitchen, mixed with the soft clatter of dishes, the scrape of chairs, the unmistakable hum of laughter. A gentle tune plays on the radio in the background. It blends with the comforting smell of coffee, scrambled eggs, and toasted bread.

Zora pushes open the kitchen door first. 

"There she is!" Adeline calls out. "Where were you, dear?"

Zora opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, Oliver steps into the doorway behind her—and suddenly, the entire room goes silent. Forks pause mid-air. Conversations halt.

Everyone turns and explodes in cheers and smiles.

Thomas is the first to react, nearly knocking over his chair as he jumps up. "Wood, you old man!" he yells, striding over and pulling Oliver into a tight hug. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Samuel and Andrew are next, both getting up with huge smile to clasp him on the back. "Captain," Samuel says, "didn't think we'd see you here."

"Good to see you, men," Oliver replies, genuinely, if a little overwhelmed. The girls give him a tight hug.

Oliver's eyes then land on Viktor, who's standing at the far end of the room, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His imposing frame is half in shadow. He stares Oliver down, not saying a word.

Oliver's steps falter. He stops, clearly unsure of the protocol. His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, and he shifts awkwardly on his feet.

Zora bites her lip to keep from laughing. Angelina and Adeline don't hold back—they're already laughing loudly. 

Zora walks over and places a hand on Viktor's shoulder, tilting her head at him. "Alright, you done?" she asks. "We said none of that shit."

Viktor doesn't move for a second, then, without breaking eye contact with Oliver, asks in a deep voice: "What are your intentions with my cousin?"

Oliver freezes. He glances at Zora in pure panic.

"I—well—I mean, I—uh—" he stammers.

The entire room erupts in laughter. Zora's forehead drops into her hand.

Viktor's serious expression finally cracks, and he steps forward to pull Oliver into a rough, brotherly hug, slapping his back. "I'm kidding, man. Welcome home."

Oliver exhales a soft breath and gives a crooked smile, still clearly out of his depth with this much attention. He sits down quickly, running a hand through his hair as if to steady himself.

Thomas pours him a mug of coffee and hands it over.  "Thanks Tom."

"So," Angelina says, eyes flicking between Zora and Oliver. "You two've been gone for what—two hours? What exactly were you doing?"

Zora, nonchalant, grabs a piece of toast from a plate and hops onto the kitchen counter. "Walking Nikita," she replies casually.

At the mention of her name, Nikita trots into the room. She looks at Zora for a split second—then walks straight to Oliver, pressing her head firmly against his thigh and looking up at him adoringly.

Zora gasps. "Unbelievable," she says, glaring. "Traitor."

Oliver just laughs and scratches behind Nikita's ears. 

"Wood," Samuel says suddenly. "Heard about the Scottish national team. That's huge, mate. You must be thrilled."

There's a pause. Everyone's watching him now. Oliver looks up from his coffee, forcing a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah," he says. "It's... it's a big step, I guess. I-"

Zora catches the tension in his eyes. She jumps in before anyone else can push. "Right. So—what's the plan for today?"

"Quidditch, of course," Viktor says without hesitation, already stretching out his shoulder.

Adeline groans and brandishes her spoon at him. "Last time we did that, you nearly killed me with a bludger, Viktor."

Viktor lifts both hands. "I am innocent."

"And tonight, we drink," Andrew adds, lifting his glass of juice like it's a toast.

"Now that sounds like a plan," Zora says, jumping down from the counter with a smile. 

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

The sun is high in the middle of the afternoon, the sky a brilliant blue. They are all in the middle of the makeshift Quidditch pitch in the middle of the manor's field in the estate — two wooden hoops on each end, a few battered brooms that have seen better days, and gear that has seen better days Andrew found in the attic.

It's the perfect kind of afternoon: warm enough for short sleeves, but breezy enough not to die of heat. Laughter echoes across the field as Thomas tries (and fails) to mount his broom with any kind of grace while Viktor and Oliver find their broom. 

"Someone help him before he breaks a hip," Zora calls out.

"I'm one year older than you," Thomas shouts back, finally upright. "Not ancient, thank you."

"Sure, Grandpa," Samuel smiles. "Don't forget your walking stick."

"Alright come here !" Adeline yells, mounting her broom. "Teams are: Me, Zora, Samuel and Thomas — versus Oliver, Viktor, Angelina and Andrew!"

"Oh brilliant," mutters Andrew. "I've got broody Captain and two players who doesn't care about the rules."

"Speak for yourself," Zora says, adjusting her braid and giving Oliver a sweet smile from across the pitch. "I'm all about teamwork and friendly competition."

Oliver lifts an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Since I realized beating you is way more satisfying when I do it politely."

He chuckles, calm as ever. "That supposed to scare me?"

"I'll let the score do that."

Angelina tosses the Quaffle into the air, and they're off. No golden snitch. Everyone plays every role ; chaser, beater, keeper. The first team to reach 100 wins. 

Thomas zigzags wildly, clearly playing more for the drama than the strategy. Viktor and Samuel form a surprisingly solid beater pair, sending a Bludger toward Andrew.

"OI!" he shouts. "You're not supposed to aim for the face!"

"Says who?" Viktor calls back.

Zora's already darting across the pitch, Quaffle tucked under her arm. She spins out of the way of a poorly-aimed Bludger and barrels toward the hoops, only to find Oliver hovering in front of them.

"You're not scoring that easily," he warns, hands steady on his broom, hair tousled by the wind.

She smiles. "Why? Scared I'll embarrass you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he answers.

Zora fakes left, darts right — and he moves with her, blocking the goal with maddening precision.

"Ugh," she groans. "I forget you're actually good at this."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

From the sidelines, Adeline laughs. "She's furious and pretending not to be. I give her ten seconds before she starts throwing insults."

"Fuck off, Ad," Zora calls, smiling.

Meanwhile, Samuel tries to score but gets intercepted by Thomas in a chaotic spiral that nearly knocks both of them off their brooms. They're laughing so hard neither one can speak properly for a good minute.

Back on the other end, Angelina flies past Thomas and scores.

"WOO! In your face you little prick," she screams, pumping her fist.

"Showoff," Thomas says, but he's smiling.

Another goal. Another near miss. Adeline and Viktor end up side-by-side again chasing the Quaffle. They eye each other, their possible moves and Viktor — weirdly — lets her take the shot.

Later, when the score is a very disputed 30 to 60 (they stopped keeping official track five goals ago), they all hover in midair, breathless, smiling.

"Call it?" Thomas pants.

"I say we stop before someone breaks something," says Samuel, checking a new bruise on his arm.

"Like your ego?" Zora throws in. "Unless you want to go another round?"

He shakes his head. "I'd rather survive to dinner."

She floats closer, laughing. "Coward."

"Pragmatist."

Adeline starts to fly off, then calls out, "Last one to the ground sets the table!"

Everyone flies toward the grass, laughing, pushing each other midair. Viktor cheats by grabbing Adeline's broom and slowing her descent. She yells, but she's laughing too hard to sound threatening.

They land and they all laugh until they can't hear anything but the sound of birds and the river down the field. Everyone tries to get their breathing back to normal, sighing and enjoying the moment. 

Thomas stands. "God, this is the best day I've had in months."

"Same," says Samuel, flopping next to him. "I love you guys." 

"Please, let's keep the emotional stuff for tomorrow, alright ?" says Zora. 

"Preach !" shouts Angelina. "A little nap before the party ?" 

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brèagha* : pretty/beautiful in scottish gaelic. please any scottish speaking reader corrects me if i'm wrong.