Y/N and Oliver were best friends. They had known each other their whole lives. Not to mention they were neighbors. But going to Hogwarts changed everything. He is Gryffindor. She is Slytherin. Rival Quidditch Keepers. The friendship is gone...
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Y/N
My room is scorching as my eyes flutter open. I feel beads of sweat running down my forehead as I sit up. The hot summer sun is flooding into my bedroom. Nature's way of telling me to get up. Crawling out of my bed, I rub my eyes, still trying to adjust to the brightness of the sun.
I walk towards the door to head downstairs. Hopefully it's cooler down there. I think nothing of it, leaving my room in my pajama shorts and tank top, until I enter the kitchen and see Oli sitting at the table.
"Hey sleepy head," I hear my mother say, standing by the stove. I look at her. "Oliver came over for breakfast." She gestures over to the table where my boyfriend sits.
My eyes shift from her, back to Oli. My face turns beat red, remembering I'm not wearing a bra under my shirt.
"Yeah, um... I think I'm gonna get dressed," I squeak out. I can see Oli's face also getting a little pink, as I turn heel and run back up the stairs.
Bolting up the steps, two at a time, I fly into my room and quickly shut the door behind me, covering my face with my hands, mortified.
I walk over to my dresser and start rummaging around for some clothes. Pulling out a pair of blue jeans, a bra, and a green tank top, I throw them on the bed and look for a pair of socks.
Knock knock
My eyes dart to my door.
'Mum, I'll be right down," I shout at the closed door.
There is a pause then, "It's me."
I close my dresser drawer slowly, "Oli? Give me a second."
I quickly change into my jeans and tank top, then open the bedroom door. "Hey."
"I'm sorry," He says, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, "I came over to see if you were up yet and your mum kinda just invited me in to have breakfast. I wasn't expecting... well..." A blush covers his whole face.
A warm heat fills my face, "It's fine, really. I mean it's not like we haven't seen each other in pajamas before right?" I try to giggle off the situation, knowing full well that these are very different circumstances compared to when we were little kids.
"Yeah, you're right," his hand falls down to his side and he smiles awkwardly.
"Breakfast is ready," my mum shouts up from the kitchen.
"We should probably go," I gesture to the stairs, "before she starts flying plates up the stairwell."
His smile turns from awkward to playful at my joke. "Yeah, come on." He takes my hand and we make our way down the stairs and to the kitchen table.
We both sit down. My mum places a plate in front of each of us, piled high with an aray of breakfast foods. Waffles, rashers, eggs, and tomatoes. She places a bowl of mixed fruit on the table with a spoon, alone with a plate filled with slices of toast and a selection of jams.
