Tumblr Harry Potter Imagines

(Oliver!XReader)

 Tumblr username: Twoblackeyesfromlovingtoohard

Link to the original imagine: http://twoblackeyesfromlovingtoohard.tumblr.com/post/152172077363/imagine-kissing-oliver-in-the-shower

title:  Couldn't Tell You

word count:  986

There was really no other option for the first thing I do when I get to Hogwarts. I must sign up to quidditch. So that is what I did. 7 years ago I joined Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Coming from a pureblood family I knew all about magic- all I was ever interested in was quidditch. I joined the Gryffindor team in my second year- apparently they don't take first years- and I've been on the team ever since. I take it pretty seriously, but not as serious as Oliver.

We all sit around the benches beneath the warm up tents. I look up at the beige tarp above our heads and listen as the ran patters down against it. There is something soothing about the rain; the way it falls, the sound it makes, the feel of the cold water against bare skin. "Okay everybody. Listen up." my daydream ends as I hear the familiar rough Scottish accent that I would chose over the sound of rain. His short hair is already wet and his eyebrows are chatting as he put on his game face. "Today we play Slytherin. We cannot lose if we're planning on getting that cup, which I'm sure we all are." somehow I find the inner strength to look away from the lanky, handsome boy and look at our team. 

Neither Fred nor George are listening. Katie, Angelina and Alicia are all whispering behind their hands as they look at Wood admirably. And Harry, cute little Harry Potter, is watching the older boy with intent and purpose- I'm surprised he hasn't got out a notebook and pen. "Y/l/n, are you listening?" I grin down at my lap as the thick, husky accent graces my hearing. 

"No Wood. No I'm not. But no one ever does. We've all heard your speech before. How about we just go out there. Play a good game... and win." I stand, bash my broom end against the floor and raise my fist to the air. The Weasley twins cheer and rise from their seat. The corners of my lips turn up and I lock eye contact with Wood and raise a single eyebrow, "Let's go." I tell them all, finally looking away from Oliver's hypnotizing brown eyes and turning to walk out of the tent- rain now pouring onto the thing sheets over our heads. 

I'm right behind little Harry, ready to brace the weather and team morale when a force pulls me back into the tent. I'm turned on the spot and make impact with a padded chest, "You know, I don't appreciate it when you do that." his lip involuntary curl upwards but he bites on it to maintain his 'anger'.

"Perhaps you should invest in a more interesting speech." my face slowly leans closer to his. My eyes dot from his lips to his eyes and as I'm millimeters away from a sweet, fresh, warm kiss I veer off and walk past him out of the tent.

——————————

Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was the lack of speech. Maybe it was Harry falling off his broom. But we lost. Everyone was pretty put out. Oliver especially. He didn't stay around to give the 'Don't worry. We'll work harder next time' speech. He went straight back up to the castle, sopping wet. Dirt dressed atop his whole uniform. 

I walked Harry back. I told how nothing was his fault, yet he still seemed to act like it was. When I walk into the Gryffindor common room it's mostly full of qudditch players, the others are probably in the main eating leftover food from the feast. Fred, George, Alicia and Katie are huddled around the fire, shoving at each other to get the best source of heat. The others are trudging up the stairs to their bedroom and Oliver woof is sat at the deep lounger in the corner of the room. "Is he okay?" Harry asks. I can't help but laugh really.

"You know Harry. I'm really not certain I can answer that question." I watch his sympathetic eyes flash across Wood's still dripping clothes, "Don't worry, I'll take care of him. You go get cleaned up." he smiles weakly and sloshes off to the showers. 

His head is hung low between his knees. His hands are molded into the crooks of his face. A pool of mud, water and anger like a moat around his chair. I sigh for my own amusement at his seriousness of the game. Game being the primary word. I walk myself to the rear of the chair and I lean over him slightly, "You know Oliver, it's not healthy to mourn this way." No reply. "Your life is not dictated by the loss and victories of qudditch." still nothing. With a sly smirk I lean close into his ear and whisper, "Maybe I'll just take a shower. Get all these dirty clothes off." I quickly press a light, airy kiss on the lobe of his ear before speeding off to the showers.

———————————–

Two minutes. For two minutes I was alone in the showers. The male gender are so predictable. I drop my head back, allowing the warm, steaming water to fall down my muddy face and all the way down my body. I don't move an inch as the cubicle door creaks and a body joins me. I feel his chilling aura against my skin, so I turn. 

His chocolate brown eyes lock onto mine. I tilt my head to one side and raise my eyebrows, "Over it?" 

"No." he replies, smirking in his thick Scottish accent, "But this will fuel my hate fire." he suddenly lurches forward, grabbing my neck as he presses his lips onto mine. I respond with ease by curling my arm around his neck, pulling him under the still flowing shower with me