Oliver wood imagine's

The Soft Hours

You never expected Oliver Wood to be good at slowing down.

He lived his life in a state of perpetual motion: fast strides down corridors, fingers tapping rhythm on the table when he was thinking, mind always on six things at once. Even when he relaxed, his foot bounced or his hand played with the hem of his sleeve.

But dating him had revealed something most people never got to see — the quiet Oliver, the one who only surfaced when the world had gone still and his guard had fallen.

And tonight... you had him entirely to yourself.

***

You were halfway up the Astronomy Tower stairs when you realized Oliver hadn't stopped complaining for at least five minutes.

"—It's definitely haunted, I'm telling you," he grumbled as he followed you. "Filch said students hear whispers up there."

"That was Filch," you replied, rolling your eyes. "He once told a first-year that the library books bite."

"To be fair, some do."

You laughed. "Oliver, we're not going to get attacked by ghosts. We're going to study."

He let out a dramatic sigh. "You said it would be a surprise."

"It is a surprise. The surprise is that we're going to study."

"Unbelievable. You tricked me."

"You'll survive."

"I just thought the surprise might be... you know." He shrugged, cheeks faintly pink. "Something romantic."

Your steps faltered.

He noticed immediately.

"What?" he asked.

"You think studying with me isn't romantic?"

Oliver opened and closed his mouth, suddenly flustered. "No— I mean— it is— you're— I didn't mean—"

You took pity on him and tugged him by the hand.

The Astronomy classroom was unused tonight, empty and quiet, moonlight spilling through the enormous arched windows. Dust sparkled in the air like stars trapped indoors.

Oliver blinked.

"Oh," he murmured. "Actually... this is—"

"Romantic?" you teased.

He pretended to scoff, but his fingers tightened around yours.

"Maybe."

You pulled out a blanket (the real surprise), and Oliver's eyebrows shot up.

"You planned a whole evening?"

"Yes. And you're going to sit down and behave."

"What if I don't behave?"

"You'll behave," you warned, "because I won't share the biscuits if you don't."

His face fell in genuine horror.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

He dropped onto the blanket instantly.

***

You spread books and parchment around you, settling in with your notes. Oliver lay beside you on his stomach, chin propped on his hands, eyes flicking between your face and the star chart you were drawing.

"You're staring," you said without looking up.

"Not staring," he said immediately. "Monitoring."

"Monitoring what?"