Harry Potter x Reader Oneshots - All Generations

Oliver Wood

It was truly a wonderful Quidditch match, or at least that was how Oliver Wood saw it. Gryffindor had won the match yet again, and he was feeling happier than ever. But you couldn't care less. The match didn't involve your house, Hufflepuff, and Quidditch was never entertaining for you. You sat at a table in the library, reading in a circle like structure with your closest friends. There were four chairs at the table, and only three of you, the fourth chair was used as a foot rest for all of you, as often happened. A pile of feet, most of them without shoes, oddly organized on the chair. Two feet that belong to the same person often weren't even on the same level as each other on the tower of feet. 

This is where Oliver found you, holed up in a discreet corner of the library surrounded by quietly talking friends and books. You didn't notice as he approached, too occupied by a book and notes you wrote into a yellow notebook to even care about the unknown shape in the corner of your eye. He moved behind the empty chair, pulling out the chair to sit, then realizing it was occupied by six feet wearing only socks. Three feet fell off the chair when he pulled it, and Oliver smiled nervously as he pushed it back. The girls who's feet had been unceremoniously removed from the pile glared at him and rearranged their feet back on the tower, obviously not happy at all at being distracted from their activities. 

You finally looked up at him, giving him a flat and slightly confused stare, then returned quickly to your writing. "Hey Oliver," You said, but didn't look up again.

"Hi (Y/N). What's that you got there?" He said and reached to the yellow spiral you wrote in.

You pulled it away harshly and closed it. "Nothing really, just a personal project."

"Confidential," One of your friends piped in with a snicker. Piper, she was part of this project. You had met all your friends through a love of muggle books, and all together you were writing one of your own. Your love of muggle culture was quite obvious, from the muggle pop culture tagged all over your graphic t-shirts to your following of the trend of dying your hair purple, you were going to go with yellow for Hufflepuff but didn't want to be a blonde, and purple has the only other cool color that didn't belong to other houses. 

"Confidential it is?" Oliver snickered back, leaning against the table and leaning down to the level of your head. "You're not planning to kill the muggle president again are ya?"

"Nah mate," Said Piper. She was a Ravenclaw and loved joking about muggles to those who knew too little to know she was joking. "We already got that bloke. Next we're going to get Santa Clause."

"Can't say I know him." 

"He's a big ol' fat man who dresses in red and flies around the world leaving little gifts in people's houses. Bloody scare wanker he is."

"Are those the same presents people light on fire and leave on your porch?" Oliver asked, his nose scrunching in disgust.

You couldn't help but laugh. 

"So you do have a sense of humor," Oliver said with a smirk, turning to you. His face was close to yours, not close enough to be suggestive, but close enough you could smell what was left of the Quidditch match still on him. Grass and dirt and wind and the wood of the brooms. It was oddly alluring on him, even if they were the smells of boring old Quidditch pitch. 

"Sense of humor?" One of your Hufflepuff friends Joanne joined the conversation. "She's filled with sarcasm, it's practically pouring out of her mouth half the time. Makes me wonder how she ever picks up guys."

"She doesn't," Said Piper. The two laughed far too much for your liking.

"Oh belt up," You said, shooting glares at them before turning again to Oliver. His face was closer to yours again, but you weren't sure if it was you or him who had moved closer.