Year 4
“Now, what’s the platform number?” “Nine and three-quarters! Mum, can’t I go…”
You’re standing next to Fred, looking at Ginny with a sympathetic smile as George runs into the barrier, disappearing without a trace. Molly is holding a miserable Ginny’s hand, your heart panging for her as Pearl hoots at you. “Fred, you next.” Fred huffs next to you whilst glaring at his mom, you hiding a smile from her with a hand. “I’m not Fred, I’m George. Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?”
Whacking him on the back of the head, you laugh as you tell him to knock it off as he goes off running into the barrier. Glancing over, you find a small boy with unruly dark hair and round glasses, you humming as you guess ‘first year.’ Giving him a wave, you can’t help but reminisce on your first year, wondering where the time went and how you could even stand here with not a single worry in your mind, knowing how many plagued it when you were younger.
“Go on, go now before Ron.”
As the two eventually go through the barrier, Molly turns and faces you with her posture stiff. “Now, dear, if these boys give Ronald any trouble at all, send me an owl! Oh, and make sure they all are taking their studies seriously, you know how they get so- so-” Smiling reassuringly at her, you set Pearl down momentarily as the tension in Molly’s body releases. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Weasley, I understand. You can count on me.” She inhales and exhales deeply, before bringing you in for a deep hug. “Gracious, dear, you know to call me mom. And dear, we are here for you. I’m so pleased you stayed with us, you are always-” “Welcome, yes, thank you, Mom.” She pulls you in for another deep hug with glossy eyes before you carry Pearl with you through the invisible barrier, already missing her warmth and comforting embrace.
Rushing for the train, you nearly collide into someone when you hop on before you're searching each compartment, only skidding to a halt when you find short, cropped hair peeking out of a closed-doors window. Slamming it open, you stand silently as Oliver stares back at you in careful assessment, no one saying a word. When you give him a smile after setting Pearl on the plush next to you, he lurches forward and pulls you into a tight embrace. “Godric, lass, I don’t think I can make it another summer without you. Not to even mention my folks’! Damn near broke their hearts when you didn’t fall out our chimney once."
When you finally release each other, he sits down facing you as you ask him to tell you everything. His eyes light up immediately, animatedly explaining the game plans and possible schedules for Quidditch that he sketched in front of you, you taking in each and every word. You’re only interrupted once when a first-year girl with wild hair asks if you’ve seen a toad, you and Oliver offering apologies before she walks away. “I think that girl just stole my poor heart, Oliver. So cute.” He affectionately sighs while you pretend to swoon, his arm nudging you back upright before explaining the rest of the plan. When he finishes telling you everything he possibly could, he takes a deep breath before taking the risk. “How…was your summer, lass?”
It’s always the question saved for last, and while it never bothered you- the wound was still so fresh even if the incident happened over a month ago, and you can’t muster the energy to delve into it. You don’t let it deflate you, instead jumping back to keep a light mood. “I’ll tell you about it later, and write your folks while I’m at it too. But let’s talk seriously here, you definitely have some thoughts on who the next Seeker could be, right?”
He lists some names off as you find your way back into Hogwarts, your nose scrunching as you slip on the ugly black hats required for the sorting ceremony while he snickers into his hand. No name really sticks though as you both contemplate at the table, before you teasingly grin. “Ron made a new friend earlier at the platform, some kid with messy hair, what’s the chance of recruiting the both of them? Gryffindor needs more duos, don’t you think?” Oliver nudges you in faux annoyance as you nudge him back, Percy and the twins finding their way to you easily. As the new first years gather at the front of the Great Hall, the group of you talk in agreeance that Ron will absolutely be put in Gryffindor before McGonagall begins to call names. “Hermoine Granger!” You tug Oliver’s robe, pointing at her with a wide smile as she mutters under her breath before she’s placed into- “Gryffindor!”
Clapping wildly, you greet her with high enthusiasm as she joins the table, mouthing ‘welcome!’ as McGonagall calls out the next name. “Draco Malfoy!” Leaning in closer to Oliver, he bends down instantly to hear you as you point the blond boy out. “His parents are Pure-Blooded Slytherins, seen him before at gatherings. He’s going to be a-” “Slytherin!” You and Oliver huff in amusement, your assessment being proven immediately as you continue listening to names, waiting excitedly for Ron.
“Ronald Weasley!” You grip onto Fred’s shoulder tightly, slightly shaking him as you watch in anticipation before Ron is immediately sorted into “Gryffindor!” Percy and the twins shoot up as the group claps loudly, pride blooming your chest as Ron joins your growing group. “Harry Potter!” You blindly reach for Oliver’s arm, your eyes wide as you frantically whisper to him “that’s Ron’s friend!”, Oliver staring at you incredulously before you’re both watching Harry walk up to the stool. “Lass. You didn’t think to mention that?” “He looked like a first-year! What, want me to go up to every first year and ask if they are the boy who lived?!”
Harry sits down on the stool as the Great Hall falls into silence, everyone waiting for the verdict with bated breath. “Well, if you’re sure…better be…Gryffindor!”
The entire Gryffindor table shoots up, cheering loudly whilst clapping as Oliver bangs his fists on the table in victory next to you, the sight making you double over in laughter. Harry walks over smiling wide, each of you taking a moment to shake his hand before settling down at the sound of McGonagall taping her glass. “Your attention, please?” Dumbledore stands up, his hands gesturing out as the first years watch in curiosity, “Let the feast…begin.” The tables are suddenly covered in food, the first years gasping as the older years don’t hesitate to fill their plates. As you reach out for a bread roll, a familiar opaque head floats through the turkey in front of you as you scream with Ron. “Merlin! Not again!” Oliver attempts to hide his snort, failing as you smack him before Nearly Headless Nick greets Ron. Percy leans over, talking to Nick as you rub your temples. “Every year. I fall for it every year.”
“I prefer Sir Nicholas, if you don’t mind.” You watch as Hermoine's eyebrows furrow, confusion etched into her features. “Nearly Headless? How can you be Nearly headless?” Your eyes widen as you reach out to stop her from making the same mistake, but the damage is done as Nick grabs his hair and tugs. Gagging out loud, you drop your head into your hands as Oliver laughs out loud, his deepening Scottish accent making the butterflies in your stomach flutter.
~
When you say the course you were most excited to take was Defense Against the Dark Arts, you meant it and swore you would love it endlessly. You had waited so long to take this course with Oliver, having to plan it just right- for this?
Gritting your teeth, you slouch over the two-seater desk as your leg bounces underneath. “If I hear that damn animal’s holler one more time…” Oliver can only watch you amusedly while Professor Quirell tells the class how he warded off a vampire, still holding his…Iguana? Fiddling with the parchment in front of you, you go to scribble a secret note before you hear footsteps leading to the classroom. “Professor Quirell, excuse me- could I borrow Wood for a moment, please?” Oliver shoots you a confused look as you send one back, shrugging as he steps out of his seat and leaves the room with her. After scribbling doodles on your parchment and clenching your fist as the animal sound grates your eardrums once more, Oliver slides back into his seat and angles his body to you. Smiling, you raise an eyebrow as you flick your hand in an encouraging gesture, his leg continuing to bounce. “I know that look, you just heard something utterly delightful. Go ahead, spill.”
His eyes twinkle in the shoddy lighting, unable to contain the information any longer. “I’ve gotta’ new Seeker, lass- you won’t believe who, neither.” Taken aback, you try and wrack your brain for any significant names but draw a blank. “You haven’t had tryouts yet, how could you possibly managed that?” His fingers are tapping against the desk, his cheeky smile widening. “McGonagall said she found me a new seeker, and it was Harry Potter himself. Caught somethin’ after a 50-foot dive, first time on a broom too.” Your jaw drops, staring at him for a few seconds before a wicked grin forms. “Now wait a minute, I believe I called that! If anything, I just got you a new seeker...just need to get Ron too.” His eyebrow furrows before he remembers your previous teasing, a snort escaping him as he turns away from you as you poke his side. “Oh, bugger off.”
You go to nudge his side with your elbow before a loud animals ‘toot!’ noise is played into your ear, making you jump with a yelp before you’re hissing at Oliver who doesn’t bother to hide his delighted grin.
~
“Eye of rabbit, harp string hum, turn this water into rum!”
Chuckling to yourself, you nudge Oliver who sits beside you before you’re both glancing at Seamus’s second attempt. Harry looks at you and the others in confusion as Seamus restarts the incantation. “W-what’s Seamus trying to do to that glass of water?” Ron and Harry watch as Seamus repeats it, Ron only shrugging. “Turn it to rum, actually managed a weak tea yesterday…before…”
SNAP!
Nearly knocking Oliver off the bench as you both laugh out loud when Seamus’s hair is flown back with black smoke dirtying his face, owl’s start to fly over your table with friendly 'hoots!'. Noticing a familiar owl, you nudge Oliver’s side with an elbow, a parcel about to be dropped into Oliver’s now awaiting hands as you curiously glance at it. “Letter from your folks?”
He nods before ripping it open, carelessly tossing the envelope aside as his eyes quickly scan the letter before a grin shoots across his face. “Well, what is it?” He slides the letter to you as your eyes rapidly scan across the parchment, each word making your heart beat faster with the amount of love poured into it. Not only do you have a home with the Weasley’s, you have a home with the Woods now, too.
~
Stealing the frosted carrot off the top of Oliver’s carrot cake, you happily eat it while the students around you feast on various candies and desserts. Numerous lit Jack O’ Lanterns and floating candles are lit above you, the air bubbly and warm as you chase down the frosting with pumpkin juice. “Blimey, you’re gonna go into a sugar overdose!” “Worse than that, what scoundrel eats the frosting but won’t even touch the cake!”
Playfully sticking out your now orange tongue at the twins, you glance around the table before frowning, glancing at Harry who looks at you in return. “Harry, where’s Hermoine? I don’t think I’ve seen her at all today.” While you love the trio equally and are protective of each of them, Hermoine definitely has a soft spot in your heart. You found out after the first feast that you would share a dormitory with her, a girl named Parvarti and another named Lavender, and have gotten to know her on an older-sister-like level. A small boy you remember being Neville looks between each of you, dropping his half-eaten pastry back onto his plate.
“Parvarti Patil says Hermoine won’t come out of the girl's bathroom. Said she’d been in there all afternoon, crying.” Heart instantly aching for her, you make a mental note to check on her later as your eyes flicker between the two boys as if to ask ‘why?’, Ron only being able to shrug in response. Huffing, you go to grab a sugar-coated gummy from a clear bowl in the middle of the table when the Great Halls's doors are slammed open by a terrified Professor Quirell, the room falling quiet instantly. “Troll! In the dungeon! Trooll in the dungeon!” Sharing a horrified look with Oliver, you all watch as Dumbledore stands from his table as Quirell looks more and more ghastly by the minute. “Just…thought you should know.”
He drops to the ground in a faint, and there’s a pause of silence before a loud crack of thunder shakes the room. Everyone in the room screams, jumping out of their seats while you latch onto Oliver’s arm tightly, feeling his free one instantly pulling you into his side in an attempt at comfort while chaos ensues around you.
“SILENCE!”
The room quiets as Dumbledore begins to calmy gives instructions to the Prefects to ensure everyone makes it back safely to their dormitories, calmly dismissing everyone as students swarm out of the Great Hall. Your nerves are shot, anxiety running high as you keep your grip on Oliver’s arm who leads you out with the other students before you stop him. “Oh, Merlin, Hermoine! What if she’s still in the bathroom? I have to go find her.” Oliver stops you from moving, disbelief clouding his features. “Are you serious, lass? There’s no way you are going to search for her, you don’t even know which one’s she’sin.”
Glaring at Oliver, you tug your arm away from him as your breathing quickens, nausea creeping inside you. “Exactly, what if the troll finds her?” “The troll is in the dungeons, there’s no way it’s going to find’er.” “Exactly! It’s in the dungeon, meaning I will be safe finding her!” This is the first time you’ve seen your best friend dismissing your concerns, his frustration only fueling yours with each counterargument. It's also the first time you've genuinely squabbled with him as well, never once truly being in disagreement over something as big as this. A few familiar faces rush past you in shock, others urging you both to keep moving but you refuse to move from your spot as you banter back and forth angrily. “Then let’s tell a professor! There’s no need’ta go yourself!” “What if I was able to get there in time, but it’ll be too late because I went and got someone instead?!” “That won’t happen, ya’ aren’t thinking straight-” “I am thinking straight, you git, just let me go help her-” “Why do ya’ need to do it yourself?!-”
“Because no one helped me!”
The confession makes reality finally hit you, the weight of holding in what happened over the summer finally slamming over you as you cover your face in your hands, quietly sobbing. A calloused hand is carefully placed over your back, Oliver now moving with purpose as he leads you through the now less-crowded myriad of staircases and through the portrait. Wiping a stray tear away, not a word is said as he leads you past your door, leading you up a few more sets before unlocking a door you’ve never seen before.
Did…did he take you to his dorm?
Eyes widening, you turn around and find him enchanting the door with a spell before facing you, his expression sincere. “Oliver, I can’t-, you could get into so much trouble…” He doesn’t answer but instead grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you into a hug that has you releasing all the pain you’ve held up since that night. He holds on the entire time, his hand rubbing circles absentmindedly over your robe as your cries are reduced to small hiccups. Using the back of your hand, you dry the wet smears away from your cheeks as Oliver leads you to his bed, helping you up.
Awkwardly wringing your hands, you glance up at Oliver who is leaning up against pillows that rest against the headrest, giving you the room to talk whenever you’re ready. You wrap your arms around you, hoping the hold will give you a grounding comfort before Oliver gestures you forward. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you sniff while trying to understand what he wants as he offers you his hand. Leaning forward, you hesitantly take it as you let yourself slip into the side of him as he puts his arms around you tightly, rubbing a thumb over your shoulder. “...What happened, lass?”
You don’t say a word for a few minutes as the tears return, sniffling occasionally as you take in the dorm, steadying yourself. It looks similar to yours but has a masculine charm to it instead of the feminine shades and scents you’re used to. The room has two vacant beds, the remaining bed you assume to be Percy’s; tidy and well-kept in comparison to Oliver’s parchment-covered side. Game plays, potential strategies, calendars marked with future dates and placement markers are scattered around, a few of his favorite jumpers being seen outside of his trunk. Each visible connection that is so blatantly Oliver gives you a sense of calmness nothing else could, the feeling of his chin sitting over your head with his arms holding you tight, the smell of mahogany and musk that defines him as well as the live photo of you and him on his nightstand.
You remember the contents immediately, him having won his first Quidditch game for the season and your younger self deciding it was worth the risk to catch up to him before he had the chance to leave his broom. The photo has your younger self leaning over his shoulder, standing on your tip toes as the height from his broom gives him a few additional inches, you both grinning stupidly at the camera. It was the first-ever rule you broke, McGonagall giving you a firm yet kind warning as you nearly cried for making her upset, but you never once regretted it. Not ever have you once once regretted anything that involved Oliver.
“I was Crucio’d over the summer.” Oliver tenses harshly from under you as you bury your face deeper into his chest, eyes closing as you remember the moment vividly. “Another party they had to host, their home’s turn to be selected. It was like any other year, ‘play your part’ and I’d get to see my friends. The party was late in the summer holiday, so they refused to let me see anyone, in case I’d act up when it finally came. ”
“They had me pour someone’s wine for them when they brought up the foolishness that Gryffindor house brings, and my anger made me spill the drink. My parents apologized profusely to the man, but he put it together and angrily said I needed to be ‘punished.’ Didn’t know what that meant, nor did my parents until I-” The pain from the curse still feels so fresh, your hand fiddling with the end of Oliver’s tie as a distraction while his thumb slowly goes back to caressing your shoulder. “I don’t remember much from it. It hurt- it hurt too bad. My father told him to stop, but didn’t move to stop him. When he finally lowered his wand, my parents just…led him away. I left for the Weasley’s when they closed the door, and spent the last few weeks with them.”
Oliver's hand moves from your shoulder to your head, fingers sliding through your hair as he cradles your head into him, your eyes welling at the gentle intimacy. “I never thought they’d let me endure that. I thought…I thought they loved me, just in their own way.” Closing your eyes, you feel Oliver’s hand playing with a strand before he leans up, your body moving with him. A drop lands on your head and you don’t understand why until another drops, and another before a shaky sob escapes him. Turning in horror, you take in the sight of bright red cheeks being covered with wet tears as Oliver cries, pulling you back into the deepest hug you’ve ever felt.
“Leannan, I, I- please, believe me when I say’at I’m so, so sorry. I’d take a million bludgers to’he head to spare you a second from that,..” his Scottish accent deepens the venomous voice he now has, “fucking curse. Stay with me. Never go back to them. I’d even be happy with the two troublemakers, but please, I’m begging ya’.”
Crying into his chest happily while he mournfully cries into your neck, this is the moment where you realize you’re deeply in love with your best friend.
~
Walking into the Great Hall, you rub your eyes as you try to wake up from sleeping in before finding Oliver. Slipping into the seat next to him, you notice the trio whispering amongst themselves which has you giving Oliver a questioning look. As he gives a simple shrug, mouth full of food, an owl flies over the table, claws releasing a long-limbed wrapped parcel into Harry’s hand. “Is that…?” The trio unwraps the parcel quickly, revealing a brand new broom that reads Nimbus 2000. Oliver's jaw drops from beside you as everyone gasps, immediately trying to see the sleek broom as you have Oliver explain its importance. As he talks astonishingly about the speed, the sheer agility of it, you can’t help but notice his look of awe and tuck it into the back of your mind, as well as a mental note to check when the next Hogsmeade date is to return to his favorite store. You feel he's easily earned the present and more, dark spots under his eyes from the stress of being Quidditch captain and preparing for O.W.L.S. as well as having to deal with your twisted family. Counting down the days until you can get him something no one else deserves as much as him, you can't wait to see his expression when he opens it.
~
“Angelina scores! 10 points for Gryffindor”
You catch Marcus Flint tossing the quaffle into the ring before it’s intercepted by Oliver, who instantly catches your eyes as your loud screams overlap anyone else's. He sends a wink your way before swerving his broom, you and Hermoine cheering together.
“Another 10 points to Gryffindor!”
Watching Oliver grab the quaffle, you clap loudly as he tosses it back out to another player when all of a sudden you catch Marcus grabbing someone’s bat…No. He isn’t. There’s no way-
You yell as the bludger slams into Oliver, his body knocking into the ring before dropping to the ground with his broom being his cushion. You see red as everyone in Gryffindor's house cries out in anger, letting go of the railing before speeding down the stairs. Once you step onto the outline of the pitch, you see Oliver’s still body on the sand before glancing around. Trying to decide the quickest route to get to Oliver, your brainstorming is cut off when your head tilts in bafflement as you watch Harry trying to get back onto his broom. After several minutes of it, you spot Hermoine leaving the Slytherin tent before meeting her halfway, holding her hand in wild confusion and concern. “Blimey, Mione’, what is going on?”
As she rapidly tries to explain to you that Harry’s broom was cursed and how she lit Snape’s robe on fire to stop it, you both stand in silence as Harry falls onto the ground, holding his hands out as he spits out something into his hand. A baffled chuckle escapes you when you catch the glint of gold in his hands, unbelieving that he nearly swallowed the Snitch. Oliver will definitely get a kick out of that. ‘Gryffindor wins!” Seeing your opportunity, you squeeze Hermoine’s shoulder before sprinting to the sand where Oliver rests, crouching down as you pull him into your arms. Sighing in relief at not seeing anything broken, you call out for Madame Hooch as she helps you take Oliver back to the hospital wing. She doesn’t question your presence once, instead commenting on the gameplay with you up till you reach the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey all but sighs at your hopeful grin, letting you in reluctantly before speaking with Madam Hooch. “Just another Gryffindor, Poppy, was going to bring her next-”
Watching the both of them whisper to each other, you put a hand on his cheek and swipe your thumb across it gently, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. You haven’t gotten to see him look so peaceful as of late, the stress of all of his coursework and early practices (that he has made you wake up the girls for before on several occasions) having taken a toll on him. Pulling your hand away, you straighten your robe before saying goodbye to Madam Hooch and Pomfrey as you leave the wing.
A certain Slytherin captain apparently needs a reminder to play fair.
~
“I don’t believe this! Not even mentioning the troll, you’re telling me you went through a three-headed-dog guarded cage, survived Devil’s Snare, won real-life wizards chess, defeated You-Know-Who, and STILL we are underneath this ugly green?”
The trio can only shrug at you with content smiles while Oliver huffs beside you, the green flags hung above making you both irritable and hollow. You had finally accepted that you wouldn’t be ranked within the top three houses this year, but once the school had found out about Voldemort’s return and how your favorite trio lived to tell the tale, you couldn’t help but fume that they didn’t get any points rewarded for their bravery. “No, it’s fine, take away 50 points for using a simple spell on a student, but Merlin forbid giving any to anyone who saved Hogwarts, especially first years!”
Fred nudges your shoulder as the twins grin at your sour state, your foul mood lifting at the sight. “Simple spell? You sent Marcus into the Hospital Wing, don’t undermine yourself, love!” Oliver can’t help but smile to himself at the memory, remembering waking up to find a moody Marcus in the ward with him and an exasperated Madam Hooch. “Well...the git deserved it, so what? We were already down 150 points…”
McGonagall tapping on her glass makes your ramble cease, pouting as you all turn in your seats to face Dumbledore.
“Another year, gone. And now as I understand it, the house cup needs awarding. And the points stand thus, in fourth place, Gryffindor, with 312 points.” You can see Marcus’s taunting smile out of the corner of your eye, you responding with a heated glare while the rest of the table can only clap mournfully. “Third place, Hufflepuff, with 352 points. In second place, Ravenclaw, with 426 points. And in first place, with 482 points for their house, Slytherin!”
The Slytherin table cheers as you grit your teeth, your table troubled with each passing holler. “Yes, yes. Well done, Slytherin. Well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account and I have a few last-minute points to reward. To Miss Hermoine Granger, for the cool use of intellect when she there were in grave peril. Fifty points.” You give her hand a loving squeeze from your spot on the table, her standing proud in her seat at the welcomed attention. “Second, to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best-played game of chest Hogwarts has seen these many years…fifty points!” While the Twins and Percy cheer for Ron, you and Oliver share a knowing look as you anticipate more potential points, focusing back onto Dumbledore.
“And third, to Mr. Harry Potter for pure nerve and outstanding courage. I award Gryffindor House 60 points.” Hermoine leans forward as you do the same, wicked grins on your faces. “We’re tied with Slytherin!”
“And finally, it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends. I award ten points to Neville Longbottom.” Your table instantly cheers, several people congratulating Neville as you and Oliver face each other with shocked grins. “Assuming that my calculations are correct, I believe that a change of decoration is in order!” The flags hanging above you sway in a breeze before the green hues are replaced with yellow and red. “Gryffindor wins the house cup!” Standing up with your table, you all scream in delight as you toss your hats into the air, you sending Marcus Flint a boastful smirk to rub salt into the wound. Oliver pulls you into a hug as Marcus sends back an angered scowl, though nothing can beat the happiness inside you.
~
“Ya sure you have to go, Lass? Mom nearly shed a tear rememberin’ you’re to leave for the Weasley’s tomorrow.” The bristles of the grass feel sharp against your bare legs, the peak of summer heat threatening to turn into a cool breeze. You’d been watching Oliver and his dad play Quidditch for the better part of the day, drinking refreshments with his mum while you both talked about whatever came to mind in a comfortable conversation. She listened to everything you said so intently, praising you in some parts and playfully teasing you in others in a comfort you never had from your own mother. His dad had eventually called it quits, stealing some chilled drink from his wife before they both waved goodnight as the sun started to lower in an orange hue.
“As much as it pains me, Muffin,” Oliver nudges into you from his propped-up position as you giggle, “I can’t give only you Woods my attention, the Weasley’s have sent me more post than I can breathe.” Looking at him, a smile spreads across your face as you take in your best friend of four years now. He’s grown so much, not just in his burly physique but passion and determination, the way he plans and acts, and how much consideration he has. You’ve never been so inspired by someone, so comfortable in someone’s presence like his and it never fails to make you weak. He catches you staring, raising an eyebrow at you as you lay a head on his shoulder. “You’ll see me again, Ollie. It’s not a goodbye, not ever.” You both watch as the sun lowers gradually more and more, the orange hue changing into a pink. Oliver exhales deeply next to you, the obvious decrease in stress levels making him much more relaxed. Oliver had received good marks on his O.W.L.S, that stress now gone as he can freely focus on his gameplays which have looked absolutely brilliant, in your humble opinion. To celebrate his great marks, you had gifted him a brand new broom that you had kept hidden since the school year. When he had opened it, he couldn’t say a word for two minutes before pulling you into the deepest embrace he could muster while you pretended you didn’t feel the few drops of tears he shed, him whispering ‘thank you, Leannan’ over and over. He had been practicing with it over the entirety of the summer holiday, occasionally letting his dad test it as his Mum thanked you affectionately, her affection making you teary-eyed every time.
Eyeing the slick Nimbus 2000 laid out on the grass near you, a lightbulb goes off in your head as you sit up. “Oliver, you tired yet?” He hums as he pushes off his thighs as he gets up, the form-fitting shirt he adorned stretching on his arms. “Never. What bright idea is it this time?” Grinning, you ‘accio’ the broom to you before you lift it in your hands. “Teach me something.” His eyebrows furrow as he looks between you and the broom, before amusedly shaking his head. “Pretty sure I’ve taught you everything I know by now, lass. Care to be more specific?” You hold a hand out for him which he accepts, you lifting a leg and sitting on the front of the broom. “Well, don’t just stand there, hop on’.”
He stutters from the side of you, a few jumbled ‘what’s?’ before you feel him straddle the broom from directly behind you. His chest lightly grazes your back as his hands hover in the air, unsure what to do before you help him and scoot back directly into his chest, acting quickly so as to not let the mortification of your bold moves settle in. Kicking off with your feet, the broom lifts up as his hands immediately latch onto the broom in front of you, body leaning into yours as the speed picks up. Thankful that the lowering sun’s magenta hue covers the flush on your cheeks from the feel of his body pressing into you, you shift the direction as you soar across the field the Woods call their backyard, smiling at the beautifully painted sky. You can’t see his expression from behind you, but from the light gasp that escapes him, you can tell he loves this as much as you do. The wide broom has just enough space where it fits you both comfortably and exactly, the additional weight of an extra person barely giving any problem with the broom’s credibility.
As Oliver tilts the broom precisely enough to get more speed, you cheer as you clasp a hand around his wrist before Oliver dives down. He laughs loudly in your ear as you scream, pulling the broom up as he marginally avoids the ground and instead swerves carefully back to the backyard, showing off now boldly by doing quick tricks and numerous rotations that have you high on adrenaline. The sun has now fully lowered, the sky gradually being covered with more and more stars as the deep blues paint behind them. When he pulls the broom to a stop and you both airily laugh as you you climb off, you think it’s the most affectionate look he’s ever given you.
~
As you wave goodbye from the chimney and disappear with a flash of green and a “The Burrow!”, Oliver feels his dad squeeze his shoulders from behind. “It’s alright, my boy, you’ll see her again soon.” Smiling to himself, he playfully nudges his hands off as he turns to the table where he begins to pick up cleared-off plates. “Don’t worry about me, I’m alright. If anything, lassie said she’d worry bout’ you lot before me.” He goes to the kitchen when his dad turns, depositing the plates in the sink as he runs water over them. Wiping his hands off with a nearby towel, he steps back into the dining room where his parents are talking, only catching a bit of their conversation. “Can’t believe he hasn’t noticed her crush on him, do you reckon’ he’s choosing to not see it?” His breathing comes to a stop, suddenly feeling weak.
“What?”
His mum drops the dirty silverware she was holding with a horrified expression, his dad wincing at the sight. “Aye, sorry, my boy, I thought you went upstairs…” Oliver can only stare at his parents before his mum folds, placing the silverware down onto a napkin. “I’m sorry, Ollie, I thought she would’ve said something by now, and-” “She doesn’t have a crush on me, Mum. What are you talking about?” For once, his typically loud-mouthed father seems at a loss while his usually reserved mum seems to have a thousand things to say. He's even confused about how defensive that was, not sure as to exactly why he's feeling that way. “Now, Ollie…do you…believe that?” Oliver’s eyes shift between the both of them, heart pounding against his chest as frustration builds. “We’re just friends, dad, I would’ve noticed if she liked me.” There’s an uncomfortable silence that makes Oliver tense, before his dad huffs. “Oliver. You can’t stand here and tell me you didn’t notice her fancying you, even just a bit?” His eyes widen a tad at the actual use of his name, jaw opening but nothing coming out. “I, she- dad, she doesn’t-”
“Oliver Benjamin Wood! She wrote your essays for ya’, she punched that Flick boy and sent him to the hospital wards twice for ya, she makes sure ur’ fed, you just rode a broom together that she bought ya’, you even slept in the same bed!” Both the Wood men stare at her in shock, though that doesn’t stop her. “Now I know I joke that I raised two children, but I know I didn’t raise me’ a bampot! It’s one thing to say you don’t like’er, but don’tcha stand there and say she doesn’t!” His mum rarely ever gets mad, and even when she does, she rarely ever uses his full name. Oliver runs over what she said in his head, before finding a piece that doesn’t fit. “Slept in the same- she’s slept in the guest bed. When did we sleep in the same bed?” His mum stares at him in disbelief, before his dad swoops in to save him. “Oliver, listen, if ya’ don’t like her that way, s’alright. But correct me if I’m wrong, do you really not?”
“Only a fool could forget a guy like you, Wood.”
It slams into him all at the same time, every memory, every unplaced feeling that stirred inside him, it all comes up and he relives each moment. It must all show on his face as his mum squeezes his hand, a wide yet sincere and reassuring smile on their faces as they leave him to finish clearing the table for bed. As he walks up the stairs and to his bedroom, he finds the portrait of the two of you grinning together as a weight settles over his heart. When...when did this happen? When was the first time he truly felt that connection with you? Has it always been there, or was it just this year? Sitting on his bed, he glances at the messy handwritten plans for the upcoming term, your clean handwriting contrasting his as you draw out something you noticed from the stands.
Since the start, he finds.
Quickly pulling out several rolls of parchment, he begins writing as he makes a deal to himself. He swears up and down that he will win the Quidditch cup by the end of seventh year, if not just for him and his players, but to make you proud and be someone worth fancying.