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writersmacchiato · 5 years ago

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Wanting | Oliver Wood

Summary: When Oliver, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, is asked about you, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain and his childhood best friend, he slips up and misunderstandings develop.

Requested by: @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz (sorry for not completely following your prompt, but i hope you like this anyway!)

———

Harry didn’t know what to think of you. Since starting school at Hogwarts, his experience with the Slytherin house has been less than favorable. They were rotten.

Except you weren’t. Harry has seen you in the halls, often alone or looking annoyed as Malfoy or Marcus Flint tried to capture your attention. It pleases him beyond imagine every time you brush off Malfoy, his face embarrassed. Ron takes great pleasure in mocking him. ‘Oh L/N you are so beautiful. What do you mean you won’t marry me? My father will hear about this!’

You weren’t rotten, but you were ambitious. Cunning. Smart. Clever. Beautiful. Harry had unfortunately been on the receiving end of Oliver Wood going off on a tangent about you more than once. It seemed that the only topics Wood knew a profound amount on was Quidditch and you. He could spend hours at any given time listing off how you were everything a Slytherin was meant to be, but then forget the spell he was learning in transfiguration.

“She’s so wickedly smart, you should hear her talk about potions. She’s been tutoring me.” Wood sighs, “without her, I wouldn’t even get an A on my NEWTS.”

Harry feels uncomfortable listening to Wood moon over you once again, all he wanted to ask about was something for his class and now twenty minutes later he was stuck listening to all the ways in which you were amazing.

“Uh,” Harry cleared his throat, coughing as he mumbles out a feeble, “Is L/N your girlfriend?”

And Oliver Wood, his head in the clouds as he thought about the way you smirked at him earlier that morning, comes crashing down to the sky. A brilliant shade of red blooms over his cheeks.

He stutters for a moment, fumbling until he manages to strangle out a heated “no!”

“Oh.” Harry says lamely, feeling dread creep in over the looming Quidditch practice tomorrow.

. . .

You let out a laugh, trying to hide it behind your hands before Madam Pence kicks you out — nothing got past her. Oliver’s cheeks are a light pink as he recounts his conversation with Harry Potter.

“You do talk about me an awful lot, Wood.”

He rolls his eyes. “Only about how insufferable you are.”

“Insufferably beautiful? Smart?” You lean in with a smirk. “Oh, I know. I’m so insufferably good at Quidditch it makes you want to tear your hair out.”

Oliver doesn’t respond, closing the distance you had shortened. “You are insufferable.”

You grin at his challenging tone. “I’m looking forward to the Quidditch match this Saturday.”

Ravenclaw versus Slytherin.

“Will you be there to cheer me on?”

Oliver rolls his eyes, a tug of a smirk on his lips. “No, actually. You need to be knocked down a peg or two. Merlin knows how you even walk around with your big head.”

“My big head? It’s nothing compared to yours, Wood.” You say, then laugh at the implication. He rolls his eyes so hard that he’s surprised they don’t sprain.

“I have practice. See you later.”

“Tell Potter your girlfriend says hello!”

. . .

The wind tossed through your robes,

“Oy! L/N!”

You turn with a hand on your hip, face unimpressed as Oliver stalks towards you. The Slytherin Quidditch team grumbles when they spot him, but you ignore their empty threats.

“Wood.”

“Talk to ya for a minute?”

You follow him down a small side path, out of the way of everyone filtering down to the Quidditch pitch. Oliver’s cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, burrowing under his gryffindor scarf. His brown eyes peer at you, reflecting warmly against the chill in the air.

“What do you want, Wood? Trying to shake me off my game last minute?” You break his silence, wanting him to start but not having time to beat around the bush.

Oliver smiles to himself, scuffing at the dirt with his shoe. When he looks up through his lashes, you’re struck by how handsome he has grown to be.

From children, where you played endlessly together, to mere tweens teasing each other, to now...on the verge of adulthood.

“I just wanted to say good luck out there.” He settles on, the words unsure.

Instead of saying the smart remark that rises, you touch his hand and smile. “I don’t need it, but thank you.”

Oliver scoffs, though he’s smiling. Wind drifts through his hair, it had gotten long over the weeks, sweeping over his forehead. You’re not sure what possesses you, but you find that your fingers are tucking it back into place. Oliver’s cheeks turn a rosy pink, eyes casting away from you.

“See you later, champ.” Oliver pats you on the shoulder, hand lingering for a second longer than it should.

. . .

Oliver almost wished that Slytherin had lost the game against Ravenclaw. The rambunctious and petty gloating from their Quidditch team, understandable to a point, was plain ridiculous now. Not a minute passed where someone from the team wasn’t loudly talking about the game and the plays, a lot of them dirty. He knew it bothered you, that your team’s victories were never entirely fair.

“Can’t wait til’ we kick their asses.” Fred Weasley speaks up after practice one windy morning. “Finally shut them up.”

Oliver finds himself nodding along, not entirely listening as he thinks back to the practice and what needed to be improved. Harry was still unsure, hesitating in his movements. Oliver would have to bolster his confidence. And, the Weasley’s—

“—You with us, Wood?”

Oliver looks up, looking at his teammates. They’re a mixture of bemused, annoyed, and mischievous. “What?”

“We were asking how you’re friends with L/N? She’s the captain, she should set the example.”

Wood felt himself getting defensive. “I’m not.”

A lie, a bold-faced lie. How long had they been friends? You knew Oliver Wood better than Oliver Wood knew himself.

. . .

“Wood.” You hardly spare a glance from your textbook.

Oliver hesitates in front of you, stumbling as he tries to gain his thoughts. There was something in the air, different from the usual causal air between you.

“I haven’t done anything, have I?” His words are tentative, feeling thick on his tongue.

You finally let out a sigh, eyebrows arched. The pages of the book slip close as your hand moves.

“No, Oliver,” your tone is sickly sweet, sliding over his skin in a way he doesn’t like. “You’ve done nothing.”

And, while there was obviously something wrong, Oliver did not have the time to figure it out. Potions was looming in the dungeons and he couldn’t afford to be late.

. . .

Weeks drag by and Oliver does not see you as often. Or rather, he does. A glimpse of your hair in the halls, your laugh ringing out in the Great Hall, a fleeting moment of your eyes meeting his before you turn away.

He misses you.

It’s a slow, startling feeling that he is unused to. The realization that you, one of his closest friends that has been there since nappies, are slipping away from him is a feeling that he can only liken to losing a game of Quidditch. His chest hurts, heart heavy every time you refuse to stop and talk to him.

Oliver is miserable and no one has seen him so dismal since they lost against Ravenclaw last year. It’s enough to be noticed, rumors spreading through the school. They even reach you, all the way in the dungeon.

. . .

“Wood?”

Oliver glances up and his heart does a little leap in his chest.

“Y/N?” It’s strangled

“What’s up? You’re not you.”

“I’m not?”

“Yes. And Gryffindor can’t afford their captain to be off his game against Ravenclaw. Especially with their new seeker, gave us hell in our match.”

Oliver, despite his anger at your coldness, is amused and not surprised that Quidditch is your common ground. It often was. His heart, beating a mile a minute, warms at your concern. You turn to leave the library, patting his hand before you go.

“Chin up, Oli.”

. . .

Oliver finds you facing the windows outside the courtyards, back turned to him as his steps fall heavy against the stone ground. The sun is setting, already past the line of trees from the forbidden forest. A glow from its light is still cast on your face, ethereal as you turn to look at him. There is a smear of dirt on his forehead, his cheeks flushed red. The twinkle in his eye is unmistakable.

“Congratulations on the win.”

Oliver nods, not being able to hide his wide grin. Elation coursed through him, blood still pumping fast in excitement. There’s something in the air, charged with an energy that feels soft and delicate.

“Thank you.”

He swallows thickly, watching as you lean against a column. You’re relaxed, eyes looking at him with something he can’t place. The palms of his hands itch as he has the desire to touch you, suddenly, but he pushes the thought away. No other words are exchanged.

When, the sun finally makes its final descent beyond the horizon Oliver knows that he should head back inside. The celebration party in the gryffindor common room would already be in full swing by the time he made his way there, but he was far too captivated by your gaze.

You notice his conflict, a small smile playing at your lips. “You should go celebrate.”

“Maybe I want to stay here.” He finds the nerve to say this, though he feels like he’s suddenly grown two sizes smaller. “With you.”

You smile, a real true smile, that has his cheeks warming. “Me?”

“Yeah, you...” he breathes, noticing just then how small the distance was between you. Your fingers touch his hand, sliding up his arm and settling on his shoulder. The material of his jersey is rough, well-worn, and comfortable. An aggregate of him, everything you know him for.

Oliver, distantly, is aware that anyone can see this, but he doesn’t care when you kiss him. Something he’s been waiting to a while, years even.

———

Everything taglist: @venusstarlight108 @knivestheresnothingtoit @awesomefaith14 @ardentmuse @salladwinston @maddieb97222 @anchy-bananchy @staygoldponebone @unique05sstuff

Harry Potter taglist: @p-adfoot

also @croatianbagudna here is the rest of the fic!

#harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood #hp #i feel like this is a little ooc #:/#i still really like this though!

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