Oliver Wood Imagines

No Rest for the Determined

He'e never been so depressed.

Oliver fell off his broom during Quidditch one afternoon and broke his leg. Normally, Madam Pomfrey could heal these sorts of injuries in mere hours with a simple spell, but his leg was far beyond this method. It somehow broke in two places and fractured in two other spots leaving a lot of work to be done on restoring it's mobility.

Physically, Oliver couldn't move much without some sort of pain. Mentally, Oliver believed he was perfectly fine.

It was your duty as his (y/g)friend to cheer him up. The morning after the accident you slipped into the Hospital Wing unnoticed.

Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight.
Sneaking through the rows of beds, you spotted  the Scottish lad trying to stand up.

Rushing to his side you grab his arm, attempting to ease him back to the bed, but he swats you away.

"Ollie, what do you think you're doing?"
His head doesn't turn to acknowledged you, rather he focuses on what's ahead of him.

"Standing."

"Your leg is healing! Madam Pomfrey said it would take days," you plead, still pulling his arm towards the bed.

"I feel better. If I say that and act like it too, they'll let me return to classes."

You scoff, giving him a look of disbelief.
"They wouldn't let you return to Quidditch."

He looks stunned.
"Wait, what? Why not?"

"BECAUSE YOUR LEG IS STILL BROKEN!" You exclaim.

Before either of you can process a though a voice rings out from behind you.
"Mr. Wood! Back on the cot this instant!"

He rolls his eyes and groans.
"Yes Madam Pomfrey," he obliges.

"(Mr. or Miss.) Y/L/N, have you no other place to be? Mr. Wood needs his rest. Not a stroll around the grounds."

Oliver pipes up,
"No ma'am, (he/she) was trying to get me to rest. I was trying to walk before she got here."

You smile, appreciating that he made sure you didn't take any unnecessary blame.
Madam Pomfrey nods as she shoos you out of the wing. It was alright, you had to get to class anyways.

It should not have suprised you what you found Oliver doing when you returned after classes. It had been a long day, so it did.

"Oliver! You idiot, you're gonna hurt yourself." You attempt to lead him back to his bed, but he quickly shrugs your hand off his shoulder.

"Oliver please."

"No, Y/n"

Just then his good leg gives out from exhaustion and he falls onto the infirmary room wall for support.
Now, you could lead him to the bed, but you didn't.

"Oliver, may I help you?" You ask softly and gently.
He shakes his head and leans on his crutch to stand up. The attempt proves unsuccessful, leaving him groaning in pain repositioned on the wall.

When he nods you know what he wants.
Carefully, you guide him to the cot. You take his crutch and set him back down on the bed.

"Please Oliver," your voice quivers.
He looks at you in confusion.
"Y/n what is it?"
"I don't want you to get hurt, please be reasonable," you grab his hand tightly.

He smiles at you softly, understanding now.
"I'm sorry I scared you," he apologizes as he pulls you to the bed.

You wrap your arms around him and sigh.
"I'm sorry you're hurt. I know you're sad, but you have to heal."

He nods, "I know."
He kisses the top of your head. The two of you stay like that for awhile, wrapped in each other's embrace.

Well until Madame Pomfrey pulls you apart, but everyone saw that coming.

A/N: Sorry I've been MIA. I'll try to update a bit more frequently. :)
Thanks for reading!