Oliver B.

Oliver Blishwick. 26. Former Gryffindor. Quidditch Referee. “Walking gets too boring when you learn how to fly.”

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

Blaise bit her lip as she smiled cheekily in Oliver’s direction, raising her eyebrows as she silently taunted him from across the kitchen. She stuck her tongue out at him, giggling beneath her breath as she brought her mug to her lips. “I’m not complaining.” She replied, drinking the rest of her tea before she walked over to the sink, rinsing it out. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever had a boyfriend cook for me before.” The second Blaise said it, she paused, grimacing as she continued to look through the window that overlooked the window, unsure if it was her place to even call Oliver that. They had been seeing each other — frequently — for the past few months but to just assume? She had never truly been a relationship person — not during her school years and definitely not after. The closest she had gotten to a relationship was with one of her old teammates, and even then, that was completely questionable. Who was she to say what kind of relationship she had, especially when, moments before, she had reminded herself that labels meant nothing. 

"Wow — I totally didn’t mean for that..uh—" She was rambling again, something Blaise had found happened quite frequently around Oliver, and the blush on her cheeks deepened before she put her head in her hands, sighing. "I’m sorry." She continued, despite the fact that her words were mumbled. "Godric, I’m such an idiot." She added, shaking her head before she turned back to Oliver apprehensively, unsure of how he had reacted or if she even wanted to know. 

Holding her hands out as if she were surrendering, Blaise sent a playful grimace in his direction, eyeing the knife that Oliver held lightly in his hand. “Okay there, Freddy Krueger.” She started, knowing full well that Oliver wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. “They do have a very distinct nose, don’t they?” She mused, using her forefingers to try and shape her own into something similar before making a honking noise in her attempt to mimic a swine. “You can say that again. These games wouldn’t be so boring otherwise.”

Blaise waved his words off, not even sure why she had used the Muggle reference in the first place. “I don’t either but he apparently makes good ravioli. Holiday brought us some before — said she found it in North America.” She replied, shrugging her shoulders. as she leaned into Oliver’s touch, looking up at him through her lashes. She felt a shiver run up and down the length of her spine from his feathery light touch and she smiled up at him, keeping her arms held loosely around his waist. “I think that sounds amazing.” She added, reaching around him to steal a diced carrot, popping it into her mouth before she flitted away, giggling. 

[oliver-blishwick]

Oliver chuckled as he listened to her talk, thinking that he could sit there and listen to anything Blaise had to say for hours - her voice drew him in, entranced him, in a way none other had ever done. His hands paused as the words left her mouth: '...had a boyfriend cook for me before'...'boyfriend'. The word bounced around in his head, and he bit the inside of his lip as he stood there. Was he her boyfriend? Did that make her his girlfriend? He wouldn't mind that, tying himself to Blaise for the foreseeable future, if not longer. Granted, they'd only gone out a handful of times, but that didn't mean they couldn't at least consider the idea of becoming exclusive.

He turned slowly, watching her as she rambled, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. "Hey, hey," he started, moving forward and taking her hands in his own. Oliver held them against his chest, waiting for her to meet his eyes. "You are not an idiot, don't worry about it, ok?" He smiled again, leaning in to kiss her quickly and hopefully erase the worried lines that had sprung up near her eyes. He didn't care what they were, not really, as long as they were some sort of...they. "You're just lucky I'm not in the air anymore - not really, anyway," he amended, shrugging, trying to dispel her worries and get them back on track.

"Huh," he nodded, slightly distracted by the way her hands flitted against his waist. "Well, this boy chef has got nothing on your boyfriend," he teased her, winking as she stole the vegetable from his cutting board. He let her take two steps, before reaching out and wrapping his arms fully around her waist, almost able to touch his own elbows as he held her close, his chest pushed flat against her back. "Dinner's almost ready," he whispered in her ear, laughing as she squirmed, knowing full well she would never be able to wiggle her way out of his embrace. He squeezed her slightly, readjusting his grip so he could poke her playfully in the side, trying to tickle her.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

Despite the intense eyeroll that Oliver earned from her, Blaise couldn’t help but smile at him over the edge of her ceramic cup, using it as a shield in an attempt to hide that exact smile. “You’re going to cook dinner for us?” She asked, raising her eyebrows incredulously as it dawned on her what exactly Oliver was doing as he went through her cupboards, finding everything that he needed in order to prepare a meal for themselves. “Italian sounds amazing…” She continued, drawing her words out as she glanced at Oliver with curious eyes. It seemed as if every time they had met up with each other over the past month and a half, they had always slipped away to come hidden city to share a meal, or two, together; it was leagues different for them to sit down and have a homemade meal that one had prepared for the other. Different, but a good different. 

Unable to wipe the smile or blush from her face, Blaise ducked her head as Oliver mentioned her game performance from that day, recalling how she had managed to make the game winning catch. “I don’t— I wouldn’t say that.” She murmured, shrugging her shoulders. It definitely hadn’t been her best day on the broom, but it hadn’t been her worse, either. And Oliver had a point — she could have been blindfolded and still won with Trembino playing on the other team. “That’s a question we’re all asking. I feel like Nepotism is involved, somehow,” She mused. There had always been an odd resemblance between Trembino and the Bats’s headcoach — it wouldn’t have surprised Blaise if they were related. “Their second string Seeker is much more of a challenge.” She added, giggling under her breath as she tried to imagine Oliver as a Seeker. Standing up, Blaise moved closer to Oliver, standing behind him as she wound her arms around his torso, trying to get a closer look at what he had prepared for them. “So, what’s for dinner, Chef Boyardee?”

[oliver-blishwick]

"Yes, I am," he shot back at her, smiling as he stirred the pot to keep it from boiling before taking the wooden spoon out and pointing it over the counter at her. He couldn't blame her, most people didn't peg him as they type of guy that could cook, let alone one who liked to cook. But they'd gone out for long enough, it was time to stay in one night and really get to know each other. Oliver didn't know how Blaise felt, but he knew how he felt, and Oliver wanted to make a go of this. "If that's okay with you, Ms. Broadmoor," he teased, moving back to his cooking to lower the temperature before putting the lid on and letting it simmer for a while. He walked back to where she sat, grabbing some fresh vegetables and starting to cut them up. "I would," he countered, giving her a serious look from under her brow. He waved the knife through the air as he talked, barely paying attention to what he was doing. "I wouldn't be surprised, they both have that....nose," he scrunched his face, remembering. "Anyway, they should just give the poor guy a chance, maybe they'd win a few now and then." he chuckled, rolling his eyes to himself as he resumed his work.

Oliver watched her as she moved, humming contently as her arms wound their way around his abdomen. "I don't know who Chef Boydee is, but we are having chicken and eggplant parmesan," He carefully placed his knife down on the cutting board and pushed it further away from them before turning around carefully, keeping her arms around himself. "If that's okay with you, dear," he murmured, running his hands down her arms, a small smile playing across his lips as he looked down at her.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

There was something about Oliver that brought out a completely different side to Blaise, one that she hadn’t seen in…well, ever. Growing up had been difficult with her parents, not that going to school had made much of a difference, but that part of her was in the past — Blaise didn’t need to worry about that anymore. She was a grown witch, with her own flat, a successful job, and a friend (or more than friend, who knew). That was all she needed. Furrowing her eyebrows, Blaise tried to think back to the last time she had eaten, not even realizing that it had been awhile; since before the game, at least. “I have not.” She replied, glancing up at him from beneath his arm. She smiled brightly at him, pleasantly surprised that Oliver had taken the time to watch her play. “You were at the game?” She asked, reaching out for her cup of tea as she leaned against the counter, eyeing him as he moved around her kitchen, opening and shutting the cupboards as if he were looking for something. 

[oliver-blishwick]

He tutted quietly, nudging her playfully in the arm as she answered. "Well, then I'll just have to fix that then, won't I?"  Oliver smirked at her, sending her a wink as he moved about her kitchen, taking stock of what she had and what he could make for the two of them. "How do you feel about Italian?" He glanced up as he collected what he would need, setting it on the counter across from her. He set to work as she sat, drinking her tea, glad to be able to cook for more than just himself for once. "Of course I was at the game," he answered, without looking at her. He had a feeling he would be at all of her games from now on, both on the field and off, depending on his own schedule. "You flew great out there.... but, I guess you always do, huh?" He went on, throwing her a sloppy grin as he wiped his hands on a dish towel, before flinging it back over his shoulder and continuing with his work.

"Trembino didn't have a chance, poor bloke. How he even got that position is beyond me. The guy can barely fly a straight line, not that he would have won if he could, but come on even I would make a better seeker than that guy, and look at me," he waved absentmindedly at himself as he rambled. His build was the exact opposite of what a seeker should be; he was bulky and too muscular; whereas seekers should be small and fit, like Blaise. "Anyway..." he trailed, off shrugging at his own mumbled tone as he dipped a finger into his pot and stuck it in his mouth.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

Blaise couldn’t help but smile at the man in front of her, despite being scared half to death because of him. And normally she would have, a man of his size and stature sneaking in through her back door, but Oliver was different. He was her…boyfriend? Friend? Blaise wasn’t entirely sure and if she had it her way, it wouldn’t even matter. Labels meant little to her, on and off the field, and she saw no reason to start worrying about them now. She felt a blush creep along her face as Oliver leaned forward to kiss her cheek, and without hesitation, Blaise wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling him closer than he already was. “Of course I don’t mind,” She started, her words muffled as she pressed her face against his chest. “Not at all — I just got home, actually.” She added, not really wanting to let go of him. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him once all day and the fact that Oliver had surprised her made her smile. 

[oliver-blishwick]

Oliver hadn't expected to be drawn into a hug like he had been and he smiled against her hair, wrapping his arms tightly around her. He squeezed gently, picking her up off her feet for a fraction of a second before putting her back down again, her muffled words spreading a warmth through him he hadn't felt in a long while. "Good," he answered, kissing her hair lightly once more before breaking their embrace. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him as they walked, however, unable to completely let her go. "Have you eaten?" He asked as he steered her toward the living room, grabbing her mug of tea from it's spot on the counter as he passed. "Are you hungry? You must be, after a game like that," he grinned over at her, raising his eyebrows. He had seen a lot of Seekers in his time; hell, it was his job to, but none that played quite like Blaise.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

It had been a relatively quiet night after the game, and for the first time in a long while, Blaise felt at ease. For so long she had been hounded by reporters, following her around and asking far too personal questions that made her shudder even thinking about it. Gently wrapping her fingers around her mug of tea, Blaise maneuvered around the island in her new flat’s kitchen, listening as her feet padded across wooden floors as she made her way into the living room, settling among the plenty of pillows and blankets she had had dragged across the couch in her attempt at decorating. She had had barely a moment to settle in before the sound of the mud room’s door scraped open. Her heart stopped and Blaise set the cup of tea down, grabbing her wand from the side table as she made her way towards the back of the house. Turning the corner, however, Blaise realized it had all been for naught. “Oliver! You scared me! I could have— hurt you, or something.” She started, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t even know you were coming over.” 

[oliver-blishwick]

Oliver had warred with himself the whole way over to Blaise's, he wasn't sure if she even liked surprises, but even as he fought with himself, he knew his decision had been made long before he even left his flat. Watching her play today had made him want to see her. He tried the handle gingerly, hoping she had really meant that he was "welcome any time". He grinned when she came around the corner, chuckling slightly. "Sorry, sorry," he held his hands up as if in surrender, before making his way over to her and kissing her on the cheek. "Spur of the moment," he shrugged, not really wanting to let on that he had been thinking about when he could see her next pretty much all day. "Hope you don't mind. You aren't...busy, or anything are you?" He added, glancing around her flat quickly and biting his lip.

[now-at-punkwarren-deactivated20]

PATRONUS ANALYSIS: 009. THE LION

Lions are loud and outgoing, their bravery abundant. They are very confident in their words and manners, always saying what they believe is the right thing and generally being all around friendly people. They are also incredibly helpful, ready to do whatever is in their power to help with a cause, and once they find something they care about they are strongly loyal to it. They are the same in their affections, loving with their whole heart. The most common house for a lion patronus is, not Gryffindor, but Hufflepuff. The most common signs are Leo and Gemini.

[oliver-blishwick]

Mahogany and Dragon Heartstring; Thirteen and one quarter inches; rigid

Mahogany

Mahogany is a good all-around wood, not particularly powerful in any one situation, but a good solid overall wood.

Dragon Heartstring

Dragon heartstring is a powerful wand with a lot of magical “heft”. It is not the core you want for subtlety, but for sheer power it is definitely the best. Although it is the most common core among Dark Wizards, Dark Wizards are most certainly not their most common users. Dragon heartstrings are by far the most common wand core amongst Slytherins, but their power often bonds to Gryffindors and Ravenclaws as well. However, they tend to overwhelm the archetypal Hufflepuff personality.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

"Are you sure?" Blaise asked, biting her lip as she glanced at the man in front of her. The last thing Blaise Broadmoor wanted to do was make Oliver feel as if she were forcing him to talk about something he obviously made him feel uncomfortable. She looked for the obvious signs that he was lying about being okay — the way people forced their smiles or the sound of their voice raising — but Oliver seemed fine. He had even said he was fine. His voice stayed even and the smile he flashed in her direction was more than genuine — it was near ecstatic. But now she was curious. She had been right about him being a Beater — he had the build for it — and, apparently, the ego for one as well. "Oh, really now?" She teased, bringing her cup of coffee to her lips. 

"That’s— oh." She finished, realizing why Quidditch was something of a short-coming for him. She had heard thousands of stories about great Quidditch Players falling from fame — both literally and figuratively — and her heart swelled. These were people who deserved to be professional athletes, not her. Blaise was an average witch with average grades who somehow managed to get lucky with her one shot at joining Puddlemere United. "Wow..that — your seventh year? How long has it been?" She asked, curious about his age. He didn’t look much older than her, but then again, she also looked like she was perpetually twenty. 

[oliver-blishwick]

"One hundred percent," he reassured her, nodding. He watched as she searched his face, meeting her eyes finally as she seemed to choose to believe him. He laughed once, nodding again as he smiled. "Yes, really," he arched one of his eyebrows as he met her teasing tone, glad she seemed to be getting more comfortable the longer they sat there. Maybe his chances for a second cup of coffee sometime weren't as bad as he thought. "I was on the team for...six years," he recalled, pausing as he tried to remember back to his school days. It seemed like ages ago to him now, the Halls of Hogwarts seemed so far away.

"How long? It's been about...what? Ten years, almost? Nine and a half, yeah," he rambled, cutting himself off when he realized. He hadn't ever noticed just how long it had been since he graduated; since the last time he'd been an actual part of a Quidditch match. "Makes me feel old," he joked, shaking his head slightly as he took another sip from his mug, sighing contently as he rested it in between his hands, warming his palms.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

Blaise feigned being hurt by his words, her hand fluttering near her heart as she opened her mouth in a small ‘O’ but there was nothing truly to be hurt about. He was right about the way the magazines made her out to be — the “Slytherin Princess” with a quick wit and a sour attitude. Was it possible to hate herself? Because in the time since she had become a member of Puddlemere United, she had grown to hate the person that graced the glossy pages of the magazines. “At least I look good in the pictures, yeah.” She stated, nodding her head once in agreement. Blaise thanked the waiter as he brought back the rather large mud of coffee, following Oliver’s example and using the stick of sugar to stir. So he was a Gryffindor, then, which meant they had attended the same school. Then again, every student in Western Europe usually attended Hogwarts, but it was nice to know that they had something else in common other than a game of Quidditch. Blaise continued to act nonchalant as she watched his facial expressions react to her words, catching the way his eyebrow rose when she mentioned dating. At least he had caught on to her added hint.

It didn’t take an Outstanding to realize that the game of Quidditch was something of a sore topic when it applied to him. She could see it in the way his lip thinned and the way he seemed distant in his response. How was she suppose to know that it wasn’t a topic worth approaching with him? Blaise sighed, bringing her cup closer to herself, but keeping her hands on the ceramic cup. “Oh, I— I didn’t meant to…upset you. I was just curious.” She stated, glancing at him. A part of her wanted to tell him ‘sorry’ and to reach out and take his hand as if she understood but another part of her stopped at her and yelled at her that it wasn’t inappropriate. “I bet you were great at…” She paused, glancing at the man in front of her. He was much too big to be a chaser or a seeker, like herself, and perhaps he had been a keeper but Blaise didn’t think that was something Oliver would do. “I bet you were amazing…at it.” She finished, not wanting to make a fool of herself any more than she already had with a ridiculously wrong guess.

[oliver-blishwick]

"No it's - it's fine," he rallied himself, smiling at her once more. For a while after the accident, he refused to talk about Quidditch. It had hurt to recall his love for the air when he had been no longer able to enjoy it. But his work had paid off, in the end, and his apprehension now stemmed from having not talked about it for so long that he couldn't quite remember where to start. Or how people would react. He shook himself, smiling more broadly as he tried to set her at ease; she hadn't struck a chord, not really. "I don't mind, really. It's just been a while since anyone's brought it up, you know," he shrugged, hand rising up to his injured shoulder as it always seemed to whenever the subject arose. "No one really cares if the refs know how to play," he laughed once, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Beater," he supplied, smiling to himself as he watched her fumble for words. "And yeah, I was damn good," he grinned widely then, a deep chuckle rumbling through his chest. He had never pictured Blaise Broadmoor- one of the best Seekers London had ever seen- to be asking him about his Quidditch career. "I...had an accident though, in my seventh year. Pretty nasty one, too," he frowned slightly as he recalled it, shaking his head at the memory.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

With every word he spoke, Blaise became more and more curious about the man in front of her. He wasn’t awed by her presence nor did he make it a point to treat her like royalty because she was a professional Quidditch player. Oliver treated her like a person. And it felt nice, being normal. She found herself smiling more often and laughing more frequently. There was no constant worry about what she was doing, wondering if her actions could be construed into something that they weren’t. But most of all, he seemed to be interested in her. The real her, not the girl whom everyone assumed they knew because of her occasional interviews for Which Broomstick? or Witch Weekly. "I would certainly hope so." She replied with a laugh, shaking her head. "I mean, the majority of the information in those magazines are wrong. It’s just stupid things," She added, biting her lip as she sat back, looking at the man in front of her. "Like my favorite color — they always write red but it’s not just red. It’s crimson. There’s a difference. And for God’s sake, I’m twenty-six. They keep saying I’m twenty-seven, but I won’t be for another two months. And I am most definitely not dating anyone.” She finished, shrugging. “At least for now.” 

 There was something about the way Oliver spoke that drew Blaise’s attention away from the small knot in the old wooden table. It wasn’t until then that Blaise realized she was at a disadvantage. Oliver might have known about her but she didn’t know a single thing about him, other than the fact that he was a Quidditch referee and that his name was Oliver. “Did you play?” She asked, straightening herself in her seat.

[oliver-blishwick]

"Good, because honestly they make you out to be a right tart," he teased her, unable to hide his smile as he met her eyes across the table. He hadn't spent as much time reading the gossip columns so much as reviews; he tended to stay to more factual information, but he'd be lying if he said her picture hadn't intrigued him enough to read one or two. "At least you look good in the pictures," he added, laughing quietly as she went on. "Ah, crimson's good. I like crimson. But then again, I'm a lion so I may be biased," he grinned, nodding to the waiter as he returned with their coffee. He began to stir the sugar stick around wandlessly, watching the coffee swirl as he paid attention to the nuances in her voice. He stopped when she mentioned dating, gaze meeting hers again as he raised an eyebrow, but decided better of broaching the topic. Maybe he'd return to it if he could coax her on another outing.

"Huh?" Her question caught him off guard. Oliver wasn't used to be asked if he played, no one really cared about whether the referee had any practical experience, they only ever wanted to know an obscure rule, or see if he knew just how long the record breaking match had been. They never cared about him, just what he knew. He nodded once, his mouth a thin line before he answered. "Yeah, I uh...played a bit. In school," he stared into his cup, unblinking.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

"It’s—" Blaise paused as she tried to find the words to answer the man in front of her. There was no use in lying to him, seeing as Blaise had never truly lied to anyone in her life, and if she attempted to do so, there was a small part of that knew Oliver would call her out on it. Instead, she shrugged. "It was at first, yanno. Everyone knew everything about me — they knew more about me than I even did, honestly — but…sometimes you just have to force yourself to get used to it.” And it was the truth. There was no ‘off-switch’ she could push that would propel her into a normal life as she so desperately wanted. There was no way to turn it off and if you asked Blaise, that was the only downfall to constantly being in the limelight. She loved her job dearly but with every good thing that came with it, there was an equally bad thing closely behind it. 

 ”Nothing really compares to the feeling I get when a tiny thing tells me how much they look up to me, and want to be like me when they grow up, though.” Blaise continued, shrugging against as she crossed her legs beneath the table. She could feel her foot begin to sway back and forth, and she smiled at Oliver. “I wouldn’t trade that for the world.” 

[oliver-blishwick]

"Huh," he bit the inside of his lip as he thought over her words, nodding. "I would say I'm not that guy," he started, chuckling slightly as the words left him, meeting her eyes. "But it's kind of my job to be that guy. There's more to you than the magazines, though, isn't there?" He mused, half to himself as he gazed across the table at her. She was a mystery to him, he found it intriguing that he both knew her well and not at all. He thought it must be worth it, though, when she caught the Snitch. He had seen her face when she came out of a dive, the little golden ball clutched in her hand. Anyone who paid attention could tell how much she loved the game, and he thought that was why Blaise was as good as she was.

He grinned broadly as she talked, imagining what she had explained. That's what he had wanted, to be like one of the players that had zoomed through his posters as a child, to be a role model to kids like himself. "I can imagine," he said softly, glancing down at his hands as he remembered his days on the Gryffindor team.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

When all was said and done, and Blaise found herself seated comfortably in the small coffee shop with a larger than was completely necessary jacket wrapped around her shoulders, Blaise realized just how close to saying ‘no’ she had really come when Oliver first asked her out. And if she had said ‘no’? She’d more than likely be caught in a flurry of fans, signing autographs and taking pictures. It wasn’t until the mere thought of what she could have been doing, did Blaise realize that she wouldn’t want to trade this moment for anything. It was nice, being able to escape, in some unknown mountain town without journalist following her every move and an avid fan around every corner. She felt overdressed, compared to Oliver and the other patrons, and bundled herself further into his jacket as she tried to stay focused on the fact that, for the first time in a long time, she was on a real date. A secret date, but a date, nonetheless. 

 "Oh, that’s— uh.." Blaise paused as the waiter looked at her expectantly, a blush heavy on her cheeks as her fingers paused on the first page of the drink menu before she placed it on the table. "I’ll have what he’s having." If Oliver frequented here enough, as he said he did, she figured he’d know the best kind of drink there was. 

[oliver-blishwick]

Oliver watched her as she ordered, smiling briefly as she blushed. He turned to the waiter slightly, nodding once as he walked away. "Good choice," he smirked, looking back to Blaise. The blush was fading from her cheeks, leaving behind just a rosy tint to her cheeks, and it made her look good, he thought. She didn't look like the world famous seeker anymore, but just a regular woman out for coffee. He realized that's how he wanted to get to know her, not as Broadmoor, the famous quidditch player, but as Blaise. And although he could understand her hesitation, it wouldn't stop him. Especially not now that he'd been able to get her to go to coffee with him.

"Is it....annoying?" He asked, pulling his brows together as he thought. "I mean the whole, everyone knows who you are without you saying...thing," he trailed off, biting his lip as the sentence got away from him. He'd always wondered just how much he'd given up, if he was better off where he was now anyway, but he'd never been able to actually ask.

[armyofqueens]

[annikajaegar-blog]

"Apparently my creative abilities don’t extend to painting."

[oliver-blishwick]

"Looks alright to me. If you really want to see what a bad painting looks like, you could always hand me the brush,"

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

For as long as she could remember, Blaise Broadmoor had always been a sight smaller than her peers and even at twenty-six, standing next to Oliver, nothing had really changed. She felt as if she were drowning in his jacket, and subsequently, the scent that accompanied it. Not that that was a bad thing — the jacket kept her warm as the two of them paraded through the town, searching for the mysterious coffee shop Oliver had been so adamant about taking her to. It was odd to Blaise how, after years of leading a professional life, on and off the field, she was able to act normal. She was flirting, she was teasing, but most of all, she was having fun. Blaise could easily nudge Oliver back without the constant fear of someone taking a picture of her and selling it to the Post with some ridiculous headline attached to it. She didn’t have to worry about rumors; for the first time in nine years, Blaise Broadmoor was a normal twenty-six year old, not the fancy Quidditch Seeker everyone made her out to be.

 Leading the way into the small coffee shop, Blaise glanced around, a smile heavy on her lips. It was small and homey, but it was perfect in its own right. The smells that enveloped her had her looking around for the source. “Wow…” Blaise had never seen anything like the shop before and she was absolutely enthralled with it. After living in Wizarding London for all her life, it was a nice change of scenery. She followed Oliver to the corner of the shop, sitting down as she continued to look around. “This place is amazing.” She added, unable to wipe the smile from her face.

[oliver-blishwick]

Oliver waited until Blaise had sat down before sliding into the booth across from her. Most people might have though he was reckless and untamed, but his mom had taught him well, often getting on his case about good manners when he had lived at home. He smiled across at her as she looked around, breathing a sigh of relief as she seemed to be enjoying the place so far. "I'm glad you think so," he started, flipping through the small drink menu absentmindedly although he almost knew it by heart. "It's one of my favorites, actually. Although Mrs. Pikeman likes to smother, fair warning," he grinned, winking at her as a waiter made his way over towards them.

He nodded toward the man as he stopped in front of their table, closing his menu and scooting it toward the end of the table. "I just want a coffee with that hazelnut sugar Mrs. P makes," he watched as the man's quill scribbled it down, before looking back toward Blaise. "And whatever this lovely lady wants," he smiled, gesturing to her.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

The difference between apparating and flying, for Blaise, was the mere fact that on one hand, she got paid to do something that she loved while on the other hand — well, she hated apparating with a burning passion. It made her stomach churn, especially when she was put into a position where she needed to side-along apparate with someone; there was literally nothing enjoyable to be find in a situation where it felt like your body was being forced through a small tube half its size. The familiar tug Blaise felt behind her navel caused her to moan under her breath as she waited for them to land, her feet slipping in the soft snow. Reaching out in shock, Blaise wrapped her arm tighter around Oliver’s, pulling herself closer to him as she tried to keep her balance before she regained her composure. 

Clearing her throat, Blaise glanced around the small town Oliver had transported them too, her eyes catching the small ma-and-pa stores that ran the length of the small street before she realized she was still wrapped around his arm. ”S-sorry. I wasn’t..uh, expecting— uhm, snow.” Nothing surprised her more, however, than when Oliver slowly wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. Blaise glanced at him, thankful for the notion. “Are you…sure?” She asked, holding the jacket close to her as she followed him down the walkway. His smell that enveloped her was intoxicating. “No, this is— nice.” She added, moving closer to him as she followed to where he was pointing to farther down the street.

[oliver-blishwick]

"Positive," he smiled softly down at her as she moved closer, something he was all too well aware of. Oliver rarely got cold, but even if he did it wouldn't have stopped him from giving up his jacket, and not only for Blaise. It just seemed like the right thing to do. "Besides, I think I've got a bit more insulation than you do," he teased, bumping his elbow into her slightly as he chuckled. They walked leisurely down the snow ridden street, Oliver trying to direct them away from deeper snow drifts and ice patches since it already seemed hard enough to walk in heels in his opinion.

He led them up to a nondescript little brick building with steam pouring from it's chimney, chipped glass paint advertising their cup of the day across the windows. "I stumbled over this place a few years ago," he explained, holding the door open for her and following after. He waved at the older woman behind the counter, sending her a warm smile. "I come sometimes after rough matches," he shrugged, leading her to a small booth in the corner.

[blaise-broadmoor-deactivated201]

Blaise could feel a smirk pull at the edges of her lips as she really looked at the man next to her. He was tall and broad, with wide set shoulders and a smile that was so damn infectious. She could feel the blush deepen along the length of her cheekbones as she listened to Oliver flirt with her. Not that she wasn’t flirting back. It was a nice change of pace for Blaise — away from the Post and her fans, she didn’t have to think about every word she was saying; and here, in front of her, was a person who knew just how much trepidation she was experience just by having a coffee date with him. “No offense,” Blaise stated, stepping forward as she delicately wrapped her arm around his. “But I probably bite a lot harder.” 

[oliver-blishwick]

Oliver raised an eyebrow, her last statement sending a pang through his stomach as he tried not to think of its implications. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see then, won't we?" He grinned, a single chuckle escaping his lips in his incredulity. Blaise Broadmoor, the Blaise Broadmoor was actually flirting back with him? He shook his head and focused intently on the small mountain town he had discovered some years ago, and not on the Seeker currently wound around his arm. 

They landed in the soft snow, and he transfigured his light jacket into something heavier before wrapping it around her shoulders and taking a step back, making sure she had gained her bearings. "This way," he said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace around them. He walked slowly, meandering through the small street with her, looking for a familiar coffee shop he frequented regularly when he wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle of London. "There's a small cafe around the corner," he explained, pointing ahead of himself down the street as he glanced over at her, "If this is more to your liking, that is,"