Year 3
Pearl tilts her head at you in could-be worry, sensing your mood as you can only stare forward with a clenched jaw and glossy eyes. Your mother is furious as your father stares at you with discontent, but nothing can be said. The train’s whistle is loud as you blink back tears as you walk away from them, wiping a stray drop with the back of your hand as you step into the train’s hall. Walking past a few nervous, trembling first years your eyes flicker at each compartment, weakly smiling at some familiar faces before you find the one you’re looking for.
The tension that’s been building up the entire summer snaps the instant his eyes flicker to yours, and you couldn’t care less who else is in the compartment with him. Swiping the compartment door open, you’re placing her cage down before Oliver pulls you into a tight hug, chin resting on your head as you nearly sob into his sweater. Whoever is in the compartment with him seemingly steps out, the door sliding indicating their exit as Oliver gives you all the time you need.
Your parents were furious upon finding various dungbomb’s you hadn’t realized you accidentally packed, as well as other joke items the twins gifted you. To add insult to the injury, they found live photos of the twins squeezing you between them as their tongues stuck out at the camera, and the other of Oliver and you squeezed tight in the common room after a Quidditch win, grinning like idiots. Ripping apart the photos and tossing the trinkets, they forced you to undergo a summer of no contact with any of your friends and instead study for the upcoming year. The only time you left your room was to attend their social gatherings, your silent and cold demeanor contrasting with the girl the guests were used to which led to harsher rules and time restraints.
You eventually pull away, wiping tears away from your eyes before frowning at the tear stains on Oliver’s sweater. “Oliver, I’m so…sorry.” Looking up, you’re shocked to see him so utterly concerned that it nearly brings you to tears again. “Lassie, what happened? I sent so many letters, but you never responded.” Your eyes darken as you sit on the plush, arms wrapping around your pulled-up legs as Oliver sits next to you, his body’s heat and his signature scent doing wonders at calming you. “I didn’t get any. My parents weren’t happy with my performance last year, so they figured they could fix it.”
Giving him a weak half-smile, you shrug before leaning a head on his shoulder. While you’ll flush in a few weeks remembering the closeness, the loss of his presence over the summer makes you hardly care, however. “...Missed your mom's cooking too, you know.” Oliver laughs next to you, your hardened heart instantly melting at the sound as his arm loops around your shoulder. “Mum and dad missed ya’ too, Lass. Were devastated when they found out you wouldn’t be coming, expect some letters when school starts.”
Oliver looks like he wants to add to that but the door is slammed open, the twins looking at you with faux rage. “You!” “No note! No package!” “How could you!” Percy and Charlie stand behind them, Percy rolling his eyes while Charlie laughs quietly to himself. George goes to pull you into a chokehold while Fred gets into a dueling position, his wand pointing at Oliver as you decide at that moment that there’s no doubt about it anymore.
Your loyalty belongs to them.
~
Zooming down the corridor, you easily spot your tall best friend in the building crowd as breakfast begins before closing in. Nearly pouncing onto him, you grip his shoulders and jump up, him letting out a wobbled ‘woah!’ as you lean to the side of him whilst sporting a wide grin. “Guess what today is!” He rolls his eyes with a smirk, looking around at the various floating jack-o-lanterns and orange decorations before looking back at you. “Let me guess, Halloween?” Sitting down next to him, you roll up the sleeves of your jumper as you steal a green apple from in front of you. “Even better, it’s Hogsmeade! You know what that means?”
The twins huff from behind you, settling in next to you as they begin to load up their plates. “Please, rub it in, why don’t you?” Leaning onto Fred’s shoulder, you make a ‘tsk’ noise before sliding a piece of parchment to them. “Now, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t bring you boys back something? Write what you want, but I will not be buying anything that’s lemon flavored out of my own dignity.” They grin at each other before George swipes the parchment from you, both of them scheming while Oliver sighs contently. “You spoil them too much, lass.” Tilting your head, you nudge his shoulder before wiping a crumb off his cheek. “Who said it’s just them?”
~
Eyes wide with excitement, you happily reach for your butterbeer as Oliver sits beside you, his pale skin flushed with red due to the chilled weather. “I’d say we hit the main spots, wouldn’cha say?” The butterbeer is warm in your mouth and you nearly moan at the flavor, various sweets and joke items filling the bags sitting next to you. Nodding as you finish up the drink, Oliver hesitates before scratching his nape, setting his mug on the table. “Er, lass, I have somethin’ to ask ya.”
You look up to him with intrigue, gulping down the last of your drink before setting the mug down next to his. Resting your head on your propped-up hands, you look at Oliver, who looks utterly sinful in his black turtleneck, never getting to see the tall giant in normal clothes due to the dress code. It's always a delight getting to see him outside of his robes, especially when he pulls the sleeves up as they rest underneath his elbows, biceps popping through the material. “What’s the plan for the holidays?” Frowning at the vagueness of the question, you tilt your head as he reconsiders his approach. “I just…ah.” Shaking his head, you catch his hesitation and the slight growing red hue to his cheeks before it clicks. Your heart bursts at the thought of him being concerned, tiptoeing around the subject of your parents just in case the wound is still fresh. He and the twins have always been very mindful of your home life, the twins only occasionally making light-hearted jokes at your parent's expense.
“It’s alright. They expressed they ‘can’t make the arrangements for me,’” your fingers make air quotations as Oliver smiles, “-knickers still in a twist, I bet. So I guess I get to finally spend a holiday here for a change.” You see his eyes glitter at the information, the sight only making you more curious as to where this is headed.
“Well, if you do get bored of Hogwarts, my folks offered for ya’ to spend a couple o’ days at ours.” Noting that more and more students are leaving as the sun lowers outside the windows, the sun giving the room specks of golden light, Oliver goes to stand from the booth, hands pushing off his thighs as he does. “All ready to go?” Picking up your bags for you, his eyes shift to you before he pauses in place. Your mouth is wide open, eyes wide as your cheeks darken by the second. “What? Why would…what?”
“My mum said something about ‘wanting a girl around for a change’ and dad said you were probably kept from quality food over the summer. Won’t hold it against ya’ if you decline, they just wanted ta’ offer.” Holding his hand out, you shut your mouth as you take his hand, wishing you could hold it the rest of the walk back. “...Yeah. Yeah, I’d love that.”
~
“Ouughhh…”
Back on the Wood’s floor again, you’re able to aim yourself away from the rug this time at the cost of landing directly on your back, the room still spinning as you hear a familiar gasp. Slender hands rapidly help you up as you hear a gruff voice laughing in the background, the sound bringing you back to reality as your nausea fades away. “Poor lassie! Lucky I came when ya’ called this time, I didn’t actually believe it when ya’ told me she gets floo-sick!” The room straightens as you hear her scold Mr. Wood, you leaning up as she holds a hand delicately against your back and one behind your head.
“I’m sorry about him, dearie, an utter twit he is. Don’t worry, I gotchya’!” She helps swipe off some soot from your jumper as Mr. Wood steps behind you, hoisting your suitcase easily over his shoulder as footsteps bang down the stairwell. “Is she here? Sorry, forgot ta’ ask her when she’d- what?!” He instantly rushes to your side, his hands quickly replacing his mum’s as he observes your form. She steps away as his eyes sweep over you, two fingers swiping away soot on your cheek before eventually helping you up to your feet. Seeing you’re okay, his eyes flicker to your suitcase in his dad's arms, reaching a hand out for it and taking it effortlessly as he urges you to come with him.
As he lumbers up the stairs, you share a shocked look with his parents, their faces showing deep amusement before you quickly follow him with a very flushed face. As you follow behind Oliver, you hear Mr. Wood say something before a ‘thwack!’ is heard, making him laugh in response making your face deepen even more. Oliver’s room is already open as he casually strolls in, resting your suitcase next to his wardrobe as you linger in the doorway. His room has shifted a bit, new decorations and items littered around as you scan the room. You notice a broom hidden behind a slightly ajar closet door, tucking that info away in your head as you focus on Oliver, who jumps onto his bed.
“Safe travels, I hope?” Snorting, you hop onto his bed to join him as you lay backward, rolling your neck in relief. “Very safe, matter of fact. Best holiday I’ve ever had, actually.” Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply before tilting your head to the side, only then catching his sorrowful expression. “You…ya’ mean that?” Memories of years and years of neglect and emptiness flash in an instant, yet the warm, fluorescent lamp lighting the dark room and the comforting scent that can only be described as Oliver makes it easy for those memories to fade. Nodding slightly, you lean up as you spot a portrait on his bedside table, a little Oliver with shaggy hair and beaming parents standing behind him as they smile for the camera in live action.
Wringing your hands, you can only inhale before opening your mouth. “I’ve never been what my parents wanted, really. They wanted living proof that they are successful, they wanted an heir to the family fortune and most importantly, they wanted to be in control. All their plans were ruined when I was born, as I was a failure from the get-go. A girl, who ended up being in Gryffindor and something they learned they have no power over, no longer just a vessel they can morph and shape.” Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you see him nod in gentle encouragement, making the rest of the words come easily to you.
“They wanted to send me to another school, before this year. When they found the photos and trinkets that proved I’d never be what they wanted, they wanted to send me somewhere else- but I refused. First time I ever argued with my mother. I told them I’d do whatever I needed to do to stay, including keeping all of the inheritance my grandmother left for the firstborn. They had no choice after that.” Swallowing, you chuckle humorlessly at the memory. “I used to hate holidays, seeing everyone so happy with their families when it’s all I…” Refusing to let your words choke you up, you sigh loudly. “All I ever wanted, I suppose.”
Letting the words soak in, you shift to your side as you face Oliver entirely, him sitting up as his pained expression remains. “I, lass,...” Not wanting him to dwell on it for long, you kneel up before falling on top of him, a surprised grunt escaping his lips. “That was until you and two red-haired tossers buggered your way into my life, and now everything is worthwhile.” Smiling at him from a tilted angle, his sad frown upturns as his hands rest over your back, an eyebrow raising. “Tossers? Take that back.”
Sticking your tongue out at him, he does the same before his mum calls from downstairs, the both of you instantly narrowing your eyes at each other. Using him as a launchpad, you lurch forward as you scramble to be the first down, him gasping in indignation. “Wha- Lass! Foul play!”
You beat him to the table, helping his mom set out the last of the cutlery as his father whistles when Oliver joins the table. “My boy,…a keeper on the Gryffindor team, yet last to the table. Where did I go wrong, Dost?” A snort escapes you as you slip into your respective seat, his mother sighing exasperatedly. “To think you left me all alone with them, dearie. Woman need’ta stick together!”
Oliver is rambling to his dad about potential conflicts with Charlie being in his last year, and you notice he hasn’t put any food on his plate because of it. Rolling your eyes, you take a fork and deposit a tattie scone onto his plate which he takes immediately. As his father comments on a potential strategy that has Oliver leaning forward, you look at his mum who is looking at you with soft affection, clearly having caught the action. Flushing, you look down at your plate as you scoop mashed potatoes into your mouth.
His parents ask you plenty of questions, though you do notice they never once bring up your home life or how your summer was before the dinner is wrapped up, everyone heading to bed. His mother hugs you tightly, thanking you for returning back home before Mr. Wood pulls her away, both of them waving before retreating behind their door.
Awkwardly wringing your hands, Oliver grabs a discarded shirt and plaid pajama pants before slipping from his room, giving you privacy to change. You slip on a pair of shorts, you tugging them down slightly noting they are on the shorter slide before fitting a shirt on. Sitting on the chair next to a desk, you smile at his worn-down copy of Quidditch Through the Ages before hearing a few raps against his door.
Giggling to yourself, you open the door as Oliver’s hand was about to knock again, you leaning on the doorframe. “What’s the password?” Scoffing, he nudges you to the side, tossing his jumper and slacks into the hamper in the corner of the room. “Password. Unbelievable, as if I’m invading your room.” He sits on his bed, reaching over to turn off the light before hesitating.
Raising an eyebrow at him, your arms are crossed as the situation dawns on him. “Oh. Right.” His cheeks darken a tad, him offering an awkward smile. “Sorry, forgot about that. Didn’t really plan that far?” Gasping in indignation, a hand slaps over your heart. “Didn’t plan? The Oliver Wood didn’t plan ahead? Just who are you?” His eyes roll, arms propping him up from behind. He furrows his eyebrows in contemplation, before shrugging. “We're renovatin' the guest room, so that's no good. I can sleep’o the couch downstairs, no issue.” Immediately refusing, you shake your head quickly. “No, if anything, I should take it.”
He scratches the back of his neck, before considering something. “Are you even tired, Lassie?”
Quite frankly, you haven’t been tired since you first saw him in his tight shirt that hugged his muscles and low-rising pajama pants, but you won’t tell him that. “Not particularly. You?” His head shakes in a no, before his hand signals you over. “How bout’ this? We can just hang here, but when someone gets tired we’ll figure it out then. With me?”
Hopping up into his bed, you both begin to talk about your lives as you face each other, bodies resting on your sides as exhaustion begins to plague you. He opens up on how his parents got together, his childhood growing up and his dad teaching him to ride a broom, his first year at Hogwarts and how he fell in love with Quidditch. He tells you his goals to join a professional Quidditch team after he graduates, though you don’t tell him you saw the various flyers or the carefully hidden Puddlemere jersey in his closet next to the broom. His eyes light up as he whispers childhood memories, birthdays with candles and cake or his dad crying at his admission letter and his accent grows heavier at the important admissions, hands making gestures with each confession.
You open yourself up in return, telling him about the enormous manor that is always cold and empty outside of gatherings, the closest thing you had to feeling free was the outstretched backyard. Your only friend growing up was the frogs in the pond and your nanny, who your parents sent away when you turned 11. The birthday celebrations you’d had were quick and sometimes your parents couldn’t make it back in time, those days spent with only your nanny. The presents were bountiful, but never anything you were truly interested in. You didn’t think they even knew what your interests were.
Quietly yawning as you look past him, you spot the moon through the drawn curtain draped to the side of his window, a small smile painting your lips. “I love the moon. Whenever I didn’t have anyone to talk to, or had nothing else to do other than stare at the white walls, the moon was always there. Always listening. Kept’ me company this summer, too.”
Your slightly slurred words stop as he suddenly grasps your hand, your eyes focusing back on him. His face is pained, words trying to come out but he looks utterly lost. “Leannan, I…you ever need me, come to me. I’ve got you, I always will. I-” He wants to continue, wants to keep going, but his tired eyes look at your now closed ones, hand still grasped in his and he weakly smiles to himself. “…You get the idea.”
When the sun comes up, there are heavy footsteps before the door is slammed opened, more light being poured into the room from the hall. “My children! Tell me’ wife that she’s wrong, she thinks that-“ He gasps as his wife joins beside him, her fiery expression shifting to amused shock at the sight in front of them.
Your head is rested into the crook of his neck, an arm draped across his chest while his hand rests on your upper back, keeping you in his embrace. His other arm is folded under his head, one leg shifted in your direction as yours rests on top of it, nearly intertwined. Mr. Wood gasps, hand shooting over his mouth while his wife can only watch with bated breath as the sound makes Oliver slightly stir. His head nuzzles further into yours, fingers twitching against your shirt as he mumbles before falling back asleep.
Mr. Wood can only gape, before blindly reaching for his wife in several attempts at grabbing her arm. “Dost, Dost, get the bloody camera!”
~
Wheezing into Fred’s shoulder, you recount his poor mom’s face when she couldn’t stop your hiccups after accidentally eating a Hiccough Sweet before Oliver suddenly appears behind you, pulling you from the bench and away from the table as the Twins look appalled. Ignoring their yells of confusion, he keeps pulling until you're right outside the Great Hall and slows to a stop. Your eyes are wide in concern, his hands still clasping your shoulders as you grip his wrists. “Ollie, what is it?” He finally catches his breath, before grinning madly. “Charlie just talked’ta me. I’m the new Quidditch captain.”
Squealing loudly, you jump into his arms as he spins around, congratulations spilling out of your mouth. “I knew it! All those plans I had to endure, damn right the wanker made you captain!” He lowers you back to the ground, eyebrows shooting up. “Had to endure? Oh, bugger off!” You’re both laughing, however, his hands tightening around your shoulders before pulling away. “I’ll tell ya’ all about it later, he wants to train with me one-on-one so I’m prepared!” You happily wave him goodbye before walking back to your previous spot, the twins having their arms crossed. “We see how it is.” “We never liked you anyways.” Their threats, however, mean nothing as Fred brings back the previous conversation, mentioning how their mom wants you to come back the next holiday and summer.
“Says you were so polite, could nearly see the hearts in her eyes!” Nudging George away from you as he mocks his mom swooning over you, the three of you head to leave the Great Hall before spotting Marcus Flint and his group of Slytherin friends. You’ve never liked the tosser, occasionally throwing him an evil glare for always playing dirty during Quidditch games or rolling your eyes at his idiotic behavior, but nothing more. As your trio near the group, you catch glimpses of their conversation before Marcus tosses his head back in a laugh. “I know! Told me right after he made me Slytherin’s new captain, nearly fell out of my seat. Couldn’t believe the stuck-up prat got it.”
The twins and you stop walking, chatter halting as anger boils inside you. Turning to face Marcus, you snarl at him with seething anger that just won’t stop building. “Care to repeat that, Flint?” His lackeys laugh as Marcus turns to face you, a sinister smile plaguing his features. “Gladly.” He gets up from the bench before standing in front of you, head tilted down at you while the twins step in line with you, ready to help support you. “ I can’t believe your stuck-up, pompous little boyfriend got the role of captain. Need me to repeat that, lassie?”
You don’t know what overcomes you, but you’re instantly whipping your wand out from your robes and shouting out a spell you had learned recently- “Everte Statum!” Marcus is instantly thrown back into the air, nearly flipping in 2 rotations before finally landing on his arse as his lackeys visibly pale. The twins laugh in disbelief as the lackeys run over to help him up, gripping your arms as your eyes widen in shock once the anger fades away.
You are gonna be in so much trouble.
~
The Gryffindor common room is nearly filled with students when Oliver climbs through the portrait, still in his Quidditch robes as the twins are demonstrating a fight to the audience. Oliver’s eyebrows furrow as all eyes instantly look at him, George and Fred rushing over. “Oliver, you won’t believe what happened!” “His face was downright hilarious!” Oliver can only shake his head, closing his eyes as he rubs his temples to sway in incoming headache. “I don’t even want to know.”
Fred grins to George, both of them smiling knowingly at the other. “I doubt that.” The portrait is opened once again as you step through, eyes widening at the filled room. Everyone immediately crowds around you, applauding you for representing the house as Oliver watches in shock. As everyone leaves to go back to their dorms, you’re left with the smiling twins and a confused Oliver who waited patiently for you. Groaning out loud, you collapse on the couch as the twins nearly jump over each other to join you. “What did McGonagall say?” “How many detentions did it cost you?” “Probably not many, you know she’s one of McGonagall’s favorites!”
“What happened?!”
Embarrassedly shoving your face in your hands, your face heats as you try to find the words that just won’t come. “I…er…” George pulls you into his side, his eyes twinkling in mischief. “She blasted Flint! It was damn near brilliant, up until Filch dragged her to McGonagalls office, that is.” Oliver's jaw drops as his eyebrows shoot up, gaping at you incredulously. “Merlin, what? Are you alright? What- What did he do?” Fred brings a hand to his forehead, swooning against your side. “Defended your honor, that’s what! Best believe you won’t hear a word from him for a while!”
Finally gathering the courage, you look up at Oliver with a small smile. “I got away with a week’s worth of detention, she said I’m lucky I’m such a good student with good marks.” Smirking, you shove the twins away from you who fall dramatically to the side. “Also said you’re both terrible influences on me.” They scoff at you in return, exclaiming “You can’t say that to the newest beaters of the team, blimey!” and “the nerve!” while you give them a congratulatory tackle.
As you bid goodnight to the boys, squeezing Oliver’s shoulder before heading up to your dorm while the twins begin recounting the fight once again, Oliver feels a rush of emotions he yet again can’t yet place.
~
“I can’t wait for Ron to come to Hogwarts next school year, he was nearly buzzing from excitement when I visited them during the holidays. And nervousness, too, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Oliver is jotting down gameplays and potential candidates next to you, occasionally playing with Pearl through the bars of her cage while you lean against his side, nibbling on a cauldron cake. Your hair is still damp, a chunk hanging near his neck as he can smell the vanilla shampoo you use with each movement of the train making you sway slightly into him. “Maybe he’s a potential seeker! I know they don’t usually let first-years join the team, but you and the twins made it onto the team in your second year, so if he’s better than you three…”
Putting his pencil down, he looks down at you before moving his plans away, shifting his body to face you. You raise an eyebrow at him, expecting to hear some sass on your rambling before noting his expression has changed. “Are you scared?” Your heart stops for a beat as you smile sadly, looking down. “What gave it away?” “You ramble when you’re nervous and have been eating at that poor cake for several minutes, lass. Talk to me.”
Shrugging, you try not to let the worries that have plagued you since the school year ended and before that show as you find the words. “I don’t think they will allow me to do anything once I get back, but one can only hope, right?” He’s still frowning and it pains you to see it, so you reach over and only slightly flush as you squeeze his hand, earning a slight side-smile. “Come on, you’re not just playing for the both of us, you’re optimistic for the both of us, too. Get that positivity ready for next year.” He smiles then, leaning onto your shoulder while you finally take a big bite of your cake. “Just you wait, lass, maybe you’ll be our next seeker.”