Oliver wood imagine's

Timeout

The wind knifed across the Quidditch pitch, whipping your hair against your cheeks. You were in the middle of the game, watching it spiral slowly... painfully... off-course.

Harry wobbled through the air after the Snitch, but every time Cho Chang darted near him, he immediately slowed down, posture straightening like he suddenly remembered his manners.

Oliver, afloat on his broom nearby, was losing his mind cell by cell.

You could practically feel the steam coming out of his ears.

Finally, after Cho outmaneuvered Harry again, Oliver blew his whistle with the force of a man experiencing his first actual stroke and called a time out.

"POTTER!" he roared, voice echoing off the stands. "DOWN. NOW."

Harry descended like a kid walking to detention. Once his broom touched grass, Oliver marched across the pitch so fast you half expected sparks under his boots. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders.

"Harry," he said with the strained calm of someone barely hanging on, "this is Quidditch ." His tone tightened. "Quidditch. Not a date."

Harry blinked up at him. "I just— I didn't want to knock her—"

And that was it.

Oliver snapped.

"Harry, this is no time to be a gentleman!" he shouted, throwing both hands up. "We don't care how pretty Cho Chang is. KNOCK HER OFF HER BLOODY BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

You choked on your laugh, covering your mouth.

Harry's eyes widened. "But— I can't just—"

"Yes, you can!" Oliver barked. "She'd knock you off! She'd hex you on the way down! She'd write HOME about it!"

You walked over, resting your hand on Oliver's arm before he exploded further. "Love," you said gently, "maybe tone it down before Madam Hooch hears you advocating... broom homicide?"

Oliver turned to you with the wild-eyed intensity of a man who has not slept since first year.

"This is the Cup, Y/N! The CUP!"

Harry, trying not to grin, glanced up at you. "Your boyfriend's losing it."

"Oh trust me," you said, patting Oliver like he was a feral hippogriff, "he lost it the day he became captain."

Oliver whipped back to Harry. "Now get up there and be aggressive! If she cuts you off, you cut harder! SHOW NO MERCY!"

Harry mounted his broom again, muttering, "Alright, alright— message received."

As he kicked off from the ground, he called down to you, loud enough for Oliver to hear:

"Y/N, if I die, please tell Oliver it was his fault!"

Oliver's jaw dropped. "POTTER!"

You snorted. Hard.

Cho zoomed past Harry again, but this time Harry leaned forward, determined, narrowing his eyes at her.

Oliver flew next to you and nudged you triumphantly. "See? Look at that. Perfect influence."

You raised a brow. "You mean your unhinged meltdown?"

He pulled you close, dropping a quick kiss on your forehead. "Whatever gets the job done."