Year 1
“Honey, you’re slouching, stand up.”
You feel a hand graze your shoulder as your frame tenses, shooting upward as you timidly spare an apologetic glance at your mother. Pearl quietly hoots at you from inside her silver cage, your small hands clutching it against your chest as you coo back quietly at her in response. Your father's nose scrunches in disgust, his hands carrying your suitcases as his chest puffs out. It took two birthdays and perfect behavior to finally have your parents get her for you, though they still look at her with great disgust and disdain- something that always stirs something in your chest.
There are other small children crowding the area before they are tugged harshly by their parents, angry stares being shot as your parents push through them without a single apology. You offer each parent and child an apologetic glance, looking down as your parents lead you through the columns faux wall. As you step through, you can’t contain the wide smile that escapes as you take in the bustling platform and sleek black and red train, an onslaught of noises surrounding you. Your smile vanishes as your mother makes a noise of disgust, nearly colliding into an oddly dressed woman as her posture straightens immediately. “Please, darling, help her with her bags so we can get out of here. You know I have an appointment at 2.”
You try not to frown, convincing yourself that you’re used to this as your father steps onto the train, your mother turning to face you. “Now, honey, I understand this is a big step for you, but you may not allow that to dissuade you from achieving great marks. You understand, surely? If you need us, contact the school. No owls. Also-”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see a mother tearfully hugging her daughter goodbye and your heart pangs against your chest. As your mom goes on to say another rule, a loud whistle from the train saves you as her mouth becomes a thin line. She appears to have something to say, but you never get to hear it as your father steps out from the train, merely squeezing your shoulder as he falls into place next to your mother. They both give you a nod, and you take that as your dismissal.
Spinning around, you try not to bounce in your step as you approach the entrance, but as you enter you can’t help but leap forward, Pearl happily chirping.
The happiness in your chest is quick to diminish as you quickly realize you now don’t know where to go. A trio of girls whizzes past you, giggling amongst themselves as your head lowers. Pearl looks up at you, her head cocking to the side as you give her a smile. “We’ll be just fine, yeah?”
You hear a gruff scoff behind you as you quickly move forward, looking down the row of compartments. Filled. Taken. They look scary. She’s crying. Oh, Merlin, what should I-?
You skid to a stop, catching a nearly empty compartment except for a boy with shaggy brown hair sitting alone with a book propped up on his lap. You catch a person on a broom, Quidditch Through the Ages, before he hurriedly flicks to the next page in deep focus. He must notice your presence though as his eyes flick up to yours, your face flushing at being caught. “ Ah, I’m sorry, I was just-” He gives you a flustered smile, nodding as he emphasizes with you. “It’s alright, others taken’?” You can only nod, him scooting down the plush bench in response. You light up at the invitation, quickly entering the room before taking in the seats. Where should you sit? Would it be weird to sit next to him? “Don’t worry, I won’t eat ya’ or anything.”
A smile spreads as you go to sit next to him, finding comfort in his attempt at making you comfortable. You sink into the patterned teal cushion, exhaling lightly as the mystery boy peeks into the cage in your lap. “Whose this little thing?” Face flushing again, you fiddle with the thin bars of her cage before sparing a tiny glance at him. “Her.., um, her name’s Pearl.” He gives her a tiny wave as you look at the book now discarded next to you. “That’s Quidditch, right?”
His eyebrows shoot up in astonishment, his gaze now focused on you. “That's quidditch, right?” Please tell me you're joking.” You can only respond with a carefree shrug as he lets out a mock gasp. “My parents aren’t big into the sport, think it’s too messy. I always dreamed of riding a broom, though.” Your voice fades with each sentence, worried he’d find you annoying for oversharing, though you don’t think anyone has ever been so invested in a conversation with you before.
“That’s fair. You’re a first year, in’t’ that right? If you practice enough, I bet you could try out for the Quidditch team here! You’ve got the build to be a mighty Seeker…” You quickly shake your head, your eyes meeting his. You feel a burst of confidence surge through you, and you enact it immediately. “Sorry, I don’t think it is for me. Just means you have to play for the both of us, yeah?” You knock your shoulder playfully into his as he laughs warmly, shaking his head. “I’m Oliver. Oliver Wood, second year. I’m not on the team, as it’s nearly impossible for first years to get it, but if you say it like that... ”
“Anything from the Trolley’s?”
You nearly jump from your seat as a kind woman shouts from the now open doorway, Oliver laughing at the sight. “Sorry, dearie! Anything you’d like?” Quickly glancing at all the treats with wide eyes, you glance at Oliver before looking back at her, a serious expression now on your face. “I’ll take two of everything.” Oliver gapes in confused intrigue as she hands you two of everything before you reach into your new robes pocket and hand her a mix of Sickles and Knuts, before she happily bids goodbye as she walks away.
"Anything from the Trolley?" Her voice fades away as you turn your body, legs resting underneath you on the plush as you face Oliver. Giddily ripping open a treat before biting into it, you can't believe you've never had one before and can only hope it's not the last. The taste hits your tongue immediately and you nearly swoon, before glancing up at Oliver and realizing he’s still staring at you incredulously. Cheeks darkening, you swallow the Cauldron Cake heavily before folding the wrapper in your hands. “Sorry, I should’ve asked if you even wanted anything…” He shakes his head, shaggy hair moving with the action as he reaches for a chocolate frog. “No, no, I preciate’ it, believe me. I just didn’t expect…”
Realizing he’s referring to the money in your pocket, you can only shrug in disinterest. “My parents give me allowance normally, depending on…Anyways, I also just received a large inheritance, so…” Picking up a licorice wand, you toss it playfully at him, shrugging breezily. “Cheers?”
As you both happily inhale the treats, you shyly tell him your name as Pearl hoots at him, and he solidifies your friendship with a warm handshake. You ask if you can read his book with him and he nearly shoots up with a mouth full of Botts Beans, sliding closer to you as he flips through his book with you, your heart feeling fuller by the minute as you catch each highlighted section and annotations next to large paragraphs.
~
“Gryffindor!”
You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in relief as the Gryffindor table cheers from their spot, claps being heard from all around as you step down from the stool. Before the dread of realizing how disappointed your parents will be once they, eventually, find out you aren’t sporting a shred of their green, chocolate brown eyes find yours, and all the tension in your body drops. Grinning wildly, you sprint for the open spot next to your newfound friend, pushing away the small hope that he saved it for you.
You slip into the seat as everyone around you jumps in to greet you, Oliver shifting to face you while looking extremely prideful. “Good to see you on the right side!” You give a playful bow, before your nose scrunches at the sight of his black hat. A tease comes easily to your tongue, but you politely refrain and instead slightly knock it off his head, giggling as he attempts to fix it.
The both of you are snickering as you continue to watch the new kids come in, occasionally whispering commentary to one another, your voice mimicking a commentator as you keep track of points for each house. A boy with red curly hair Oliver had introduced as Percy, his dormitory roommate, almost calls you out for it before another red-haired boy nudges him, shaking his head. You learn his name is Charlie and find that they are brothers- as if the red hair wasn’t a telltale sign. Professor McGonagall suddenly taps her spoon against her glass, Dumbledore standing as the room falls silent. “Let the feast…begin.”
Food appears in front of you as your eyes widen at the sight, not even sure where to begin. You go to grab a piece of turkey before an opaque head shoots up, you screaming as you jump back. “Hello!” Oliver laughs loudly next to you as the head tilts his head at you, taking you in. “How are you? Welcome to Gryffindor!” You nervously shuffle in your seat, Oliver piping up on your behalf. “That’s Nearly Headless Nick. Don’t worry, scared me ta' death last year too.” Eyebrows furrowing, you can’t help but let the curiosity win. “Nearly? How can it be nearly?” Nearly Headless Nick floats upward, revealing his whole body as his hand grabs his hair. He pulls it to the side, the gory sight of his decapitated head making you gag as you nearly topple into Oliver as you shut your eyes. “Merlin, why!” As Oliver and Charlie laugh at your reaction while Percy asks how Nick’s summer went, you can’t help but feel that this may be your real home.
~
“Oliver, that sausage isn’t going to eat itself.”
Oliver's foot pauses from tapping against the ground as he finally blinks, your voice breaking him from whatever thoughts have been circling his head since the beginning of breakfast. His leg starts to bounce again as he fiddles with his fork, a frown stretching across his face. “What if I don’t get it? I nearly missed one goal-” “No you didn’t! You managed to stop each one-” He pauses once more as you choke on your eggs at the admission, your face flushing as his head whips to yours. “Managed to stop- were you there? You said you were busy with an essay!”
You take a big sip of pumpkin juice, ignoring his presence as you gather your bearings. “I…um, finished it?” Taking a big breath, you fiddle with your hands nervously before finally facing him. “Nonetheless, you did great out there. Okay? I have full confidence he’ll come up to you and say you got the position, I guarantee it. So eat something, you can’t play with an empty stomach.” Sliding his plate closer to him, you hesitate before ultimately squeezing his hand. “Don’t you remember? You’re playing for the both of us.” He stares at you for a few more seconds, before smiling down at his plate. “Yeah, you’re right, lass.” Your hand recoils quickly at the nickname, your cheeks darkening as you try to hide your face.
Oliver feels a rush seeing your reaction, but before he can process it, a voice nearly startles him from behind. “Hey, Wood, right? Mind if I have a word real quick?” Oliver shoots out from his seat, nodding as the Quidditch captain you think you remember being named Charlie stands behind you. He gives you a nod in your direction before leading Oliver down the corridor, Oliver shooting you a panicked look as you give him a giddy thumbs up in return. Your leg starts to bob up and down as you finish off your plate whilst waiting for his return, but when you finally decide to draw your bags as time draws on, you hear heavy footsteps.
Scrunching your eyebrows in confusion, you spin around before Oliver nearly collides into you, his hands gripping your shoulders with his eyes and grin wide. “I got it. I got it! I’m the Keeper!” You jump excitedly, clapping your hands as your hands wrap around his wrists. “Congrats! That’s wonderful!” Noting how the room is now silent and you have dozens of pairs of eyes on you, you immediately drop his hands before gripping the handles of your bag instead, smiling awkwardly. Oliver is still positively beaming as he grabs his bag, a hand nudging you forward. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your class, you won’t believe what he told me!”
~
Oliver winced as his eyes fluttered open, the white lights surrounding his bed making his eyes strain. He groans as he tries to sit up, Madam Pomfrey tutting as she quickly walks over. “Oh, absolutely not, stay down Wood.” She urges him back to his previous lying-sitting position, looking over him and at his eyes. “Wha- what happened?” Madam Pomfrey’s mouth opens before Charlie peeks into the room, spotting Oliver as he smiles. “Hi, mind if I have a word with Wood?” She nods, giving Oliver a click glance over before heading to another student.
Charlie breezes over before leaning over a wooden chair next to Oliver’s bed as he shoots up, ignoring the throbbing in his head. “Did we win? What was the scoring? Did we-” Oliver is cut off by Charlie chuckling to himself, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Sorry, sorry, I just didn’t expect that. Only you would be more concerned with the match rather than yourself, did you know you were out for a week?” Oliver's eyes widen in shock, Charlie letting out an amused huff. “Yeah, I didn't think so. Don’t feel bad- they were playing dirty, I called for a break and we just had a chaser station the goal for the duration. Caught the Snitch, very tight match it was.”
Oliver nods in consideration, the worry that he was the reason the match was ruined lessening. “Do refrain from getting any more bludgers to the head, will you? Get better too. And, also…” Charlie considers a thought, before ultimately nudging his head to the closed curtain next to Oliver’s bed. “That friend of yours? She’s a real keeper. Don’t think I saw her leave your side outside of classes. Cheers.” Charlie gives him one more smile before leaving as Oliver stares at the empty curtain.
Groaning as he climbs out of bed, he checks to see that Pomfrey is indeed gone before sliding it open and finds you, asleep with your robe splayed out next to you. Letting out a laugh of disbelief, he slips the robe over you like a blanket before sitting on the edge of your bed, observing your sleeping form.
A real keeper, huh?
~
“You alright, lass?”
Sighing as you drop your fork over your still-full plate, you glance at Oliver as he sweeps his shaggy hair out of his eyes before looking around the room. The Great Hall is adorned with holly and mistletoes, the scent of pine and spices filling the air as many fires keep the room warm compared to the icy corridors throughout the school. The Christmas trees twinkle at you from their respective place and the brightness they bring only slightly lightens the bitterness you feel. While your home is grand and the wealth from past generations is abundant, it’s cold and barren with sleek minimalist furniture and decor.
It has never felt like home.
“My parents want me to come home, something about hosting a “party” for this year. Told me not to send owls, yet they get the privilege apparently.” You dejectedly gesture to the opened envelope in front of you, your family’s crest sealed in wax. Oliver frowns before nudging you with his shoulder, making you weakly smile at the gesture.
“It’s only for two weeks, lass, don’t be too upset. If it helps any, I posted to my folks recently- if you have a free day during the holidays they said you’re welcome to join us for dinner, if you’d like?” He reaches for a pastry as your face flushes, shocked at his nonchalance. How can he say that with no hesitation?
“I…I’ll ask.”
“Chin up! If not, we’ve got the rest of the year.”
~
It took perfect behavior the entirety of the party in order for your parents to agree, the feat difficult only due to the coldness and arrogance of the guests. While you were used to having the sweet, innocent child persona, you relished that you felt a tiny spark of rebellion, albeit hidden. You could feel the annoyance inside your mother's voice as she lied, “Yes, a true Slytherin just like her parents!” to each guest as you kept your hands to your side and posture straight. But you managed the night with a bitten tongue, and after an entire day of enthusiastically biding your time, you finally run to the grand fireplace in the main room.
“Remember your etiquette, honey, don’t let them think we raised you-“ “Yes ma’am! I won’t let you down.” She raises an eyebrow at you cutting off her tangent, but ultimately sighs as she steps back into line with your father. Tossing the floo powder down while happily ignoring your father's scrunch of nose as the powder slightly falls outside the fireplace, you yell Oliver’s home before a warm feeling takes over.
You’d only floo’d twice for publicity events your parents had dragged you to, and each time left you visibly ill afterwards as your mother pretended to care for you while your father distracted the hosts with charismatic conversation. This time was no different as you continued spinning and spinning, before you eventually land and nearly topple over.
“Oh my- Dost! Come here quick!”
You groan as you catch yourself on wooden flooring, hands nearly slipping as you squeeze your eyes shut. You feel soft, slender hands gather around an arm as they help you up, offering apology after apology. “Merlins beard, I’m so sorry deary! Muffin said you’d be coming, but never said when…” Your eyes flutter open as she holds you steady, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips as you take in your surroundings.
The Wood’s home is beautiful.
Pictures of their family are framed everywhere, posters of Quidditch players and other various wizards hung up with knick-knacks stacked neatly on shelves. Portraits of people from various decades observe you, cozy and vibrant hues lighting up the room as it smells faintly of mahogany and musk. “I’m sorry for the disaster you’re seeing, it’s hard watching two children…Ollie and his father, o'course’!” You finally look at the woman speaking to you, and you instantly see the striking resemblance between her and her son. Warm, chocolate brown eyes are carefully observing you as brown hair frames her oval face, a warm smile gracing her features that remind you of your first-ever friend.
“Please, Ma’am, don’t apologize! I’ve never…,” you spin around as you observe the environment, small hands gesturing all around, “I love your home, it’s absolutely brilliant!” She seems taken aback before she laughs at your statement while placing her hand over her heart. “Thank you, deary, that’s very kind.” Looking down, you gasp as you notice you left soot from when you fell on a light-colored rug, panic building in your chest suffocatingly. “Mrs. Wood, I am so sorry, I’ll clean it-”
A hand is placed on your shoulder, her touch comforting and grounding as she stares at you with carefully hidden assessment. “Believe me, hen, those two ave’ tracked much worse into here, you’re perfectly fine, yeah?” She brings out a long wand before cleaning the soot up, shooting you a comforting smile. “No trouble at all! Here, would’ya mind gathering my boy for me? He’s just upstairs.” Thankful for her kindness you nod quickly, turning around before bumping into a burly figure. “Oof, sorry there, lassie! You alright?”
You apologize quickly, bowing before standing up straight. “Yes, sir, thank you!” You abashedly slide past him as you walk up the stairs, mentally facepalming for being so short. You hear him ask his wife ‘You called for me?’ as she exasperatedly sighs in response, making you chuckle before attempting to find Oliver’s room.
All the doors look the same except one that has a Quidditch poster plastered to it, you nervously tapping on it with a fist. You hear what sounds like a bed creaking before steps bound up to the door, a near bounce-like sound to it. “Is she here? Sorry, I don’t think I ever said what time she’d get ere’-” Oliver opens the door before his jaw snaps open, eyes widening in shock. You raise a hand to wave at him when your own jaw drops, taking him in incredulously. “Wha- Oliver, where did your hair go!”
He sheepishly scratches the back of his now bare neck, his hair barely covering it at all as it now sits in a short crop. “Ah, figured it’d be better for Quidditch, yeah? Is it that bad?” Blinking slowly, you go to reach up before catching yourself, cheeks darkening. “N-no, it looks good. Can I..?” Pointing to the side of him, he blinks before eagerly nodding as he moves from the doorway and ushers you in. Taking a few steps in, you observe the room in fascination as he goes to sit on his quilted sheet-covered bed.
His room is just as brilliant.
You can only stare at all the knick-knacks littered around, various posters and paraphernalia covering more than three-fourths of the room. Turning to face him, you find him observing you with a slightly worried look and it takes you back. This may be the first time he seems genuinely flushed. “…What do you think?”
A grin appears as you go to sit next to him. “Honestly? The best room I’ve ever seen.” His mother calls from downstairs, and as you eat with the Woods, laughing as his Dad calls out his son for eating messily while you eat with a napkin in your lap, you feel immensely content. You don’t notice the way his mother looks at you with adoration when you slide another piece of chicken to Oliver’s place, him immediately eating it with no reaction as he continues his story; nor the look his parents share when Oliver bumps your shoulder with his when you jokingly scold him for having his elbows on the table, the both of you leaning on each other for support as you laugh loudly.
~
Oliver tries to stifle a snicker as you quietly mumble something to him before ultimately loses, snorting out loud as you hide your smile under your hand. He covers his mouth instantly as you mentally scream, the laugh being caught by Professor Snape who all but slams the book in front of him shut. Some students jolt, suddenly worried as to the sudden change in demeanor.
“Care to share with the class what is so humorous, Wood?”
He winces at the mention of his last name, shaking his head as he lets out a ‘No, sir.’ Snape glares at him for a moment longer, before humming. “Marvelous. Thank you for volunteering, and on such a frivolous holiday too. Come here.”
Biting your tongue, you watch as he slowly moves up from his seat beside you before shuffling awkwardly to the front of the class. The rest of the school is littered with hearts and pink hues, yet Snape’s classroom contains no such thing, Snape obviously finding no interest in Valentine's day. As Oliver approaches his desk, Snape turns his nose up at him before gesturing to the potion bubbling on the table. “Can you tell me what this potion is?”
Oliver peers into the cauldron, unruly eyebrows furrowing at the pearl-like sheen coating the bubbling liquid. “Er…I’m…not sure?” Snape sneers at him, making you shrink in on yourself out of guilt for putting Oliver in this situation. Curse you and your wide mouth, you just had to pick a day when Snape is in a mood. “Of course. You wouldn’t know, as you’re too busy collaborating with your…friend.” He looks out at the class the same time your eyes meet Oliver’s, him giving you a humoring side smile that eases your guilt. He has a special way of calming your nerves, whether it be a new letter from your parents (as rare as that is) or an immense amount of assignments.
“This is the Amortentia potion, otherwise known as the most intense love potion in existence. It smells differently to each individual, according to what attracts them. Our volunteer will give the class an example.”
Oliver releases a breath, no longer worried about facing a severe punishment as he leans over the cauldron once more, his head tilting as he processes each of the scents from the curled-up smoke. “I…er. Smell mahogany? Wet grass…and fresh leather.” He pauses, before leaning in once more. “And…something sweet? Like vanilla.” Snape only nods as he flicks his hand, the dismissal clear. As Oliver clambers back into his seat, you realize Snape looks like he’s about to bring you up as well before the bell rings. He says nothing but lets out an airy 'humph’ as you and Oliver rush to leave the classroom, but his warning is clear. The second you both are out the door, it only takes one look at each other before you’re both wheezing, you nearly toppling into him as you both try to catch your breaths. You’re so grateful that you weren’t picked to smell the potion that you don’t even consider the sweet scent he smelled.
~
Pearl pecks at your finger through her cage as you sit in silence, Oliver looking over at you from the scribbles he’s been making in his notebook in careful concern. “Lass…you alright?” Sighing as you withdraw your finger, you huff as you slouch against the plush with a scornful look. “I suppose I just don’t want school to end. What if I…” Risking a glance at him, you push your ever-so-slowly crush aside and close your eyes. “I’m just worried, s’pose.”
He considers your words in his head, before placing his notebook beside him as he gives you his attention. “Well, lass, I’ve got good news and bad news. While it is true that school is over, you know what good will come from it?” You glance up at him from your lashes, interest piqued. “Just means a whole summer dedicated to practicing being a Keeper!” You push him away with a loud snort as he laughs out loud, before he sincerely places his hand over yours and squeezes it tight. “Seriously, my post is always open, don’t forget about me, yeah? We’ll see each other for another five years, so no worrying yet.” With a sincere smile, you flip your hand and squeeze his in return “Only a fool could forget a guy like you, Wood.” Attempting to hide your smirk, you raise an eyebrow at him as he gives you the same look in return. “So…muffin? Really?”
You earn the noogie he gives you at that one, his cheeks a deep red.