Oliver wood imagine's

Quiet Love

The public wizarding library in Diagon Alley was never your first guess for a date spot.

But Oliver insisted.

He'd shown up at your flat with that ridiculous, irresistible grin and said, "I need to look up some old Quidditch strategies, and I'd like the world's most beautiful research assistant to come with me."

How were you supposed to say no to that?

The library was tall and warm, lined with floating lanterns and rows of ancient books stacked to the ceiling. It smelled like parchment, ink, and quiet magic.

You found a table tucked behind a row of dusty spellbooks, and Oliver spread out his notes... for maybe two minutes before getting distracted by you.

You were flipping through a thick reference book when you felt his gaze.

Slow. Intent. Mischievous.

You looked up. "What?"

"Nothing," he said innocently, chin propped on his hand as he watched you. "Just admiring the view."

You narrowed your eyes. "Oliver, we came here so you could work."

"Aye," he said, "and I'm working very hard."

"At what? Being annoying?"

He smirked. "That, and trying to get you to look at me."

"I am looking at you."

He leaned back in his chair, studying you with warm brown eyes. "Good. Because it drives me mad when you hide behind books taller than your head."

You tried to hide your smile. "It's a library. People read here."

"Aye. And people get distracted here too."

You shook your head and returned to your book—but he wasn't done.

He stretched his leg out under the table until his foot nudged yours.

You nudged back.

He nudged harder.

You shot him a warning glance. "Stop it."

He whispered, "Make me."

You tried very, VERY hard not to smile. "Oliver Wood. We are in a library."

"And?" He leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Is there a rule against bothering your girlfriend in one?"

"Yes," you whispered dramatically. "In Rule 17B of the 'Don't Be a Public Menace' handbook."

"A tragedy," he murmured, leaning closer across the table. "Good thing I've never been great at following rules."

You bit your lip to stop a laugh—and of course, Oliver's eyes went straight to your mouth.

His teasing expression softened. Warmed.

"Don't do that," he whispered.

"Do what?"

"That," he said, gaze flicking to your lips again, "or I'll kiss you right here."

Your heart flipped. "You won't. This is a library."

He smiled like he absolutely would.

And because he was Oliver Wood...

He did.

But gently—slowly—leaning across the table until his hand slid to your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. His lips met yours in the softest, sweetest kiss, the kind that made your breath catch and the world go quiet in that library hush.

You melted instantly.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm.

"Merlin," he whispered, voice rough. "You're going to be the reason they ban me from public places."

You laughed softly. "You started it."

He kissed you again—quick, soft, stealing your breath.

"And I'll do it again," he murmured, "if you keep being cute while pretending to study."

You nudged his shoulder. "Maybe we should actually get some work done."

Oliver raised a brow. "Work? Now? After you kissed me like that?"

"You kissed me!"

"Aye, well," he said, tugging your chair closer until your knees brushed under the table, "you let me."

You rolled your eyes fondly. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," he said, voice low and certain before kissing you one more time.

You didn't deny it.