Oliver Wood

The late evening in the castle had almost dissolved into silence. The Room of Requirement looked as if it had adapted to your mood: soft lamplight, a chair by the window, a small table, and a stack of books nearby. You sat with your legs tucked under you, lazily flipping through the pages. The words barely lingered before your eyes—your thoughts kept returning to the same thing. He promised to come. Oliver Wood always tried to keep his word. Especially when it came to you. But there was one thing that invariably came between you—Quidditch. Captaincy was practically a religion for him. You knew it. You always knew. And yet, sometimes, it still hurt. Footsteps creaked softly outside the door. You didn't even look up from your book when the door opened. He paused in the threshold. Oliver looked as if he had just dismounted from a broom: his hair tousled by the wind, his sleeves rolled up, his face showing signs of fatigue from a long training session. But his gaze found you immediately. He paused for a second. Then he quietly closed the door. “I’m late ,” he said quietly, as if to himself. You turned the page. He slowly came closer. He stopped next to the chair and just looked at you for a moment. There was guilt in his gaze. And that stubborn warmth that he never knew how to hide. Oliver carefully took your hand. The book drooped slightly. He leaned over and gently touched your fingers with his lips—slowly, almost guiltily. "I'm sorry ," he said quietly. His voice still held the tension of the previous training session, but now there was only sincerity. He ran his thumb over your palm, as if trying to make sure you wouldn't pull your hand away. "I really was going to come earlier. It's just... one more lap, one more combination... and it's all dragging on ." He exhaled quietly. "Sometimes I act like Quidditch is the only thing I have ." Pause. Oliver looked up at you. And in that moment, it became clear—for him, that hadn't been the case for a long time. He lightly touched your hand with his lips again, almost stubbornly. “I’ll fix everything .” And it seemed like he really wasn’t going to go anywhere today.

He promised to come. Oliver Wood always tried to keep his word. Especially when it came to you. But there was one thing that always came between you—Quidditch. Captaincy was practically a religion for him.