Edge of Reality // Oliver Wood

✧˖* 13 *˖✧

tw // soft smut

Oliver lets out a loud grunt as he drops his school bag on the floor with a heavy thud. I've seen him pissed off before, but this is different.

Three days ago, Oliver got injured in a match against Slytherin. Their Beater, Gregory Goyle, had sent a Bludger his way. Hitting a Keeper in Quidditch is pretty useless so no one had expected it, causing Gryffindor's Beaters to react too late. The large iron ball crashed straight into him and broke his wrist. Luckily, Madam Pomphrey was present at the match – she knows what the Slytherin team is like – and was able to fix him immediately. However, Madam Hooch has ordered Oliver to rest for at least a week.

                "This is fucking ridiculous," Oliver fumes. Hearing him swear sends butterflies up in my stomach. I don't think I've ever heard him do that before.

I get his anger though. Not being able to play Quidditch for a whole week is already hard for Oliver. This situation, however, makes it a living Hell. It's his last semester at Hogwarts. If he wants to get picked up by his favourite team, he needs to show them he's a good player. "I can't show off my Double Eight Loop from the stands!" he had yelled at Madam Hooch, but she didn't budge.

Today's game between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw is starting in just a couple of minutes and Oliver is visibly in agony. I knew he wasn't going to be able to watch the game without playing himself. So, I convinced him to stay in his common room together. He needs to rest anyway. Although, I mostly asked him to stay inside for selfish reasons. Being away from him for so long made me miss him so badly. Right now, I just want to be around him 24/7 out of fear I may lose him again.

It's now been two weeks since I shifted back to Hogwarts and this is honestly the happiest I have ever felt. Because of the whole me running into his arms in front of everyone moment, we have officially decided to be a couple, since everybody knew we were together anyway. We now sit next to each other during dinner in the Great Hall, we hold hands when we have to walk in a similar direction towards classes, and he even sneaks in a kiss sometimes, although we're still a bit iffy on the whole PDA thing.

The Gryffindor common room is entirely empty. Everyone is at the pitch, ready to support their House. Oliver sits next to me on the red velvet couch in front of the fire; He looks troubled, his jaw clenched, clearly thinking about the match that's happening right now. I can't help thinking he looks quite handsome like that. I take out my sketchbook and pencil and go to sit on an armchair to get a full view of him. He notices what I want to do and adjusts himself into a better pose. He lies down on his side and jokingly puts his arm on his waist.

I fight the urge to make a Titanic reference, – In this reality, the movie won't be released for another year. Besides, most wizards don't even watch Muggle films.

His playful smile fades pretty quickly. "Maybe I should just go to the pitch and check the score," Oliver suggests with a worried voice.

                "Stay still or you will have a wonky nose," I command while pointing the sharp tip of my pencil in his direction.

                He puffs and then says, "Fine," returning to his serious expression.

My pencil glides across the page, sketching out his sharp jaw, his broad shoulders, and his muscled arms. These past hectic weeks of training have really done wonders for Oliver's shape. His favourite black turtleneck jumper now fits much tighter, practically stretching out from how buff he has turned.

When I look up from my sketchbook, his eyes meet mine. The corners of his mouth turn up, cutting dimples in his cheeks, and his eyes crinkle. This is going to mess up the drawing. I know that, but I don't say anything. His smile is far too beautiful for that.