Oliver Wood¡

You and Oliver have been best friends since third year. He likes you, but I didn't know it, only guessed. After every game you won, he ran to you first, hugging you tightly, lifting you up, and twirling you around, laughing. Little pleasant things, like a small candy, a flower picked somewhere near the greenhouses, the constant concern: "Are you cold?" "Are you tired?"...

And here's a new game. Gryffindor beat Slytherin and was now in second place. All that was left was for Ravenclaw to win, and the House Cup would once again be awarded to Gryffindor. A grand celebration was held in the common room to mark the occasion. McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor House, even personally allowed them to hold the celebration, as she herself was quite partial to Quidditch. There was a lot of noise, fun, butterbeer, and someone even managed to bring a few bottles of firewhisky. All the team players were congratulated and cradled in arms. Oliver was also wanted, but he dismissed it casually, heading toward you, because the greatest, the best reward for him was your admiration.
You: "Oliver! That was so cool! You were made for Quidditch! I'm so proud of you!"
You wanted to say something else, but Oliver suddenly raised his index finger, asking you to be quiet. A sly smile played on his lips, unusual for him. Perhaps it was the butterbeer that had this effect on him, but he still grinned and said
Oliver: "No-o... I'm not cut out for this at all."
you smiled in bewilderment
You: "What? Then why..."
Oliver suddenly put his hands on your shoulders, pulling you towards him.
Oliver: "I was made to love you ..."