"I'm all right for now," she decided, because if Oliver left, she'd be sitting in the middle of a bunch of blokes talking about Quidditch, which she didn't entirely understand (what the bloody hell was a Beetlebaum Spiral anyroad? and why was it a brilliant if stupid maneuver?) and with no one to talk to. It was odd for her to feel so uncomfortable and not just burst into the noise but she wasn't sure how to get a word in edgewise and besides they weren't exactly talking about dragons or something else she knew shite about.
Maybe it'd be better to drink after all. But no, she was fine, and she didn't want to be on her own in the crowd of strangers that she needed to not offend.
She didn't even think about why she couldn't offend them, because this was starting to make her feel all off-kilter, and she was over thinking shite, and that was when things usually went utterly pear-shaped. Bloody hell.
With a bright smile, she touched Oliver's arm. "You played brill, yeah? That save you did, right up near the beginning, the one where you went upside down and came right back up... that was beautiful, yeah?" If she admitted it, she'd spent most of the game watching her mate play, because that was one thing to focus on. And he really was beautiful on a bloody broom.
Someone else came to the table, and the person on her other side budged up closer to her to make room, so she nudged into Oliver a bit more, flushing as she did so. "Sorry. S'a bit tight here, yeah? Maybe we ought to take 'em all out for karaoke sometime. Make everyone sing, not just you."