Acquaintance - Oliver Wood/OC

Chapter 13: The Hufflepuff Common Room Visitor

The week before the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match went down slightly differently. Oliver did what he usually does, trapping his players in corners and assailing them with speeches combined with late, early and I don't know what practises.

Me on the other hand, I had decided with my friends that we were going to have a lot of practises during the weeks before the game, and on the last week we were going to slow down and only do two, hopefully this would help the team feel less stressed and worn-out. It also meant that I had less of a chance of bumping into Oliver on the pitch. Because bumping into someone who you're avoiding out of sheer awkwardness can be seen as counterproductive, at least in my book.

I wasn't sure about this approach, but it seemed more efficient than what Oliver was currently doing. He wasn't just wearing his team out but also himself. I would often see him just staring at his plate of food in the Great Hall or being fast asleep in classes. Whenever he tried talking to me, I could see that his eyes were red from sleep deprivation. But we didn't get to talk much, hence me trying to appear like I wasn't interested in him and therefore keeping conversations brief.

"I don't get it." PJ had said. "You seemed determined for you two to be friends. Now every time he talks to you, you appear to want to run in the opposite direction."

Listening to their constant confusion was frustrating. I wished I could explain to them about the kiss, I'm sure they would understand if I told them. But I wasn't the type of person who talked to anyone about that sort of stuff.

"It's sad is all, he's different now. He's nice to you. 'Doesn't seem to think you're plotting murder or anything, which is a big development." Bianca joked.

Since I wasn't going to spend much time at the pitch I figured that it might be a good idea to spend that time in the library instead, and so I did.

It was when I was sitting peacefully in the library with my books trying to get all my papers finished that Oliver slouched down next to me.

"Mind if I sit here?" He asked when he saw that I was eyeing him from behind my stack of books.

"No, it's not a problem." I dug my nose back into my book.

He carelessly threw his books up on the table. He then proceeded to try and organize his surroundings by clumsily trying to sort out all of his parchment and dropping his pen on the floor several times in the process. After a while everything stilled from his side of the table and we sat quiet for a few moments.

"If we win on Saturday, and I'm not saying that we will." He quickly added. "Would you still come and celebrate with us after?" He broke the silence by saying.

I hesitated before I laid my book down and reluctantly met his tired gaze. He looked drowsy and he was lying down on his closed book with crossed arms. "I'm not sure, actually. My team and I would probably be pretty bummed about losing."

"Yes, of course..." He kept quiet for a while and I was just about to pick up my book again when he said, "I would have come to yours."

"Would you though?" I doubted.

"Yes!" He sounded convinced. "I would be devastated. In fact, I would probably cry even. But I would still come, as the good sport that I am." He looked me dead in the eyes. "In my humble opinion." He added and smiled widely.

I tried not to smile back. "Hm, okay." I answered. "I believe you." I said and returned to my book, hoping this would cover the potential smile playing at my lips.

"I would've thought you'd would do the same." He continued.

I sighed. "What exactly is it that you want, Oliver?"