Oliver knew that move: the casual brush of a for or a knee or an elbow against someone of interest. To an outside observer it would look innocent enough and could be passed off as an accident if the person in question didn't have the same interest. So, he stood still against the touch, opting to shift a few inch closer.
"Ah well," he smirked at the annoyance Genevieve expressed with his blocking. "I couldn't make things too easy for you. We had to give the fans a show." Given the astronomical cost of tickets it was the least they could do. Jenn stepped away to grab another drink and the group shifted apart, Oliver taking note to do so as well. He needed to behave. The thing with Daphne had been a mistake. Romilda would either show up any time or be waiting at home. The thought of her sitting on his couch, wearing one of shirts while Oliver flirted with another woman for the second time in a week made his heart sink.
"He broke his nose, eh?" The tall man with glasses groaned. "Always liked Viktor, I might be dating myself but I remember when he first started to play. I had just joined with Ballycastle."
"Mark is head of Puddlemere press team," Oliver muttered to Genevieve. "Massive knowledge on all things Quidditch." Mark beamed and nodded.
"I've definitely followed your career too."
"Now Mark, you can't fraternize with the enemy even if season is over." Oliver smirked, receiving an eye roll from the other man.