win, or die trying

Oliver Wood, 27. Quidditch is life.

[oliverwoodkeeper]

viktorxxkrum​:

It wasn’t that Krum thought that they were better than Oliver Wood, it’s that they knew they were. They hardly thought it was fair that he was captain because he won a couple school games while Krum had been an international quidditch star before they were twenty. The math simply did not add up. Puddlemere had requested them, lobbied for them… and yet they couldn’t let go of their precious little golden boy. Krum had hoped that becoming Captain could have reignited that spark for the game they had lost so long ago. But conversations came and went, doors were slammed and contracts were threatened until finally they had to drop the issue.

It had been a little petty to bad mouth Wood’s techniques to the team, but a real leader would know how to take the punch , maybe even better themselves. It could have been a rather fun exercise but as Krum watched the players filter out and Wood stay it was obvious the fun was over. They raised an eyebrow at the daring move before rolling their eyes at the obvious display of dominance. “Well it seems like you’re not giving me much of a choice mate.” Krum tossed their practice bag to the ground, opening their arms wide with a shrug. “I’m usually too busy for a number of people, don’t feel special. But by all means Woody, say what you have to say.” 

If he were honest, Oliver didn’t know how to deal with Viktor Krum. He had attended each of the triwizard games at Hogwarts the year after he had left and had marvelled at Krum’s skill. He’d watched the international games, aspiring to one day be picked for the British national team - Ollie was like most people in that they had idolised Krum’s skill. Now he stood on the precipice of losing his captainship, and perhaps even the respect of his team, because Viktor Krum was a spoilt little celebrity. Oliver had proven himself within the team - perhaps not internationally, but he had proven his leadership and that should be enough.

And yet it wasn’t. 

Nodding his head in acknowledgement of the lack of choice Ollie had offered, he stepped out of the way of the door. “Feel free to leave, I’m not in the business of kidnapping celebrities. But as the captain of this team, I’m not willing to rip the whole team apart for a battle of egos. You think you’re better than me and deserve to be the captain - it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. And yet, I’m still the captain, Krum. Even after you keep storming into meetings with management. So perhaps, you need to set your ego aside for the sake of the team, and respect that I am the captain. I’m not going to take this lying down, Krum.”

[oliverwoodkeeper]

minigreengrass​:

🌠

Astoria’s eyes widened for a moment at the mention of breaking into Blaise’s apartment. A flush of embarrassment as she knew why Blaise would have just groaned as he was still recovering from the sheer shock that came from her Sisters surprise birthday for Draco that had left both of them without knowledge of the event even happening.  “Blaise has had quite a bit of surprises happen these past couple days.. i’m sure you were the least problematic one.” Astoria admitted.  She just shook her head at the name drop, Oliver had been the first person she had come into contact since she found her way to the stadium.   When he turned around, she could barely hear what he said and finally let out a frustrated sigh.  “I’m sorry but i’m heard of hearing.” She admitted, “And some noises get lost if you turn around or speak too fast.. so if I miss something you said i’m sorry in advance…” She tried to match his pace, walking and talking were one of those things she found got harder at times.  Her multitasking abilities had shortened in some aspects and grew in others. 

“Oh— umm, I attend on occasion.  My sister is the bigger magical sports fan.” She knew Daphne was more into the Players then the game.  She wouldn’t be surprised if one day her sister snatched herself a professional Quidditch Player and found herself living her best life as a Sports Wife.  “I try to come to games if Blaise asks, otherwise, i’m usually working.”

Raising his eyebrows at the mention of Blaise’s surprises, Ollie made a mental note to ask his teammate later quite how much he’d drunk the night before Ollie came to wake him up. He wondered if Blaise had ever turned up to practice hungover before - Ollie himself wasn’t innocent for that, though the first time had been the last time. Running laps around a field hungover was a different kind of hell. “I’m almost one hundred percent certain that I was the most problematic surprise of Blaise’s life. I bet he’s still trying to figure out how I found his address - it wouldn’t even surprise me if he was making arrangements to move as we speak, so that I might never find him again.”

Slowing down, Oliver matched pace with Astoria, offering her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll try and slow down a little, my parents tell me that I talk too much for my own good some times,” Ollie said with a shrug. He felt a pang of guilt that he’d assumed she had been fawning over him, rather than just trying to read his lips. 

“Are you a good friend of Blaise? It’s always useful to have other people in my arsenal - I’m trying to figure him out, but he’s determined to stay mysterious,” Ollie said with a glint in his eyes. “And you work direct for the minister?”

[oliverwoodkeeper]

ofsolipsism​:

.

There were certain inevitabilities in the world that Blaise had come to understand that he didn’t have a hope of changing — Millicent’s tragic taste in wine, Theo’s complete disregard for his sleep schedule, Gilderoy’s notoriously terrible advice and — of course — Oliver Wood’s complete lack of boundaries. The good of the team always seemed to amount to some new invasion of his privacy or personal space, which Blaise supposed had to explain why Wood was happily chattering away about his godfather’s gardening prowess in his back garden before the sun had even properly risen.

An inscrutable look was shot Oliver’s way, his eyes narrowed against the sun beams beginning to spill through tree-branches and gaps in the buildings around them, before he replied with a simple, equally indecipherable, “Yes.” He imagined it would have been a lot more effective if Wood hadn’t already started jogging.

This was his own personal hell.

The urge to do something childish like trip Oliver on his way past welled up inside Blaise as he took off after him, settling instead for breezing past him on what Blaise could only assume was meant to be some sort of bonding moment like the thing with the goats in the woods and the yoga or the repeated attempts to get the whole team out to have a drink together or trust falls or whatever the nonsense of the week happened to be. “Keep up Wood,” he offered with perhaps a touch more competitive edge than was strictly necessary, “You’re like a slug in the mornings.”

Perhaps his methods as captain were unconventional, but history said that they would work. If Zabini wasn’t the way he was in the mornings, he wouldn’t have needed this necessary intervention. He’d thank him for it later, Ollie was sure. There was a brief pang of concern that struck deep in Oliver’s gut that this might twist Blaise towards supporting Krum’s apparent bid for leadership, and might actually be shooting himself in the foot - but Oliver was still convinced that this was best for the team.

Perhaps that was where strength in leadership lay - knowing where to step back for the good of the team, rather than the good of the self. He wasn’t willing to let the team get ripped apart simply for his own insecurities. Even if Blaise now detested him and would support whatever the hell this coup turned out to be, Oliver knew that Blaise still needed to get into better morning shape. With that refreshed thought, Oliver sped up his jog - but not quite quick enough for Blaise.

A cheeky grin played on Oliver’s lips at Blaise’s jab, and Oliver picked up the pace even more until he was matching with Blaise. “Then I’ll wear my nickname of slug with pride, because if a slug moves like this then they’re pretty damn good,” he chuckled.

When their laps of the gardens came to a stop, Ollie glanced across to Blaise. “Push ups until we fail now,” he instructed, dropping down to the ground.

[oliverwoodkeeper]

weaselfred​:

Fred could feel someone in the room, rolling over as Oliver nudged him and opening his eyes. He’d waited until Oliver had gone to practice to sneak into the apartment, spending most of the morning at St. Mungo’s and then going back to the apartment and pressing his ear against the door until he was sure that George wasn’t inside. The whole time he’d been on edge, sure that Katie would come bursting out of her apartment and he’d have to explain why he was being sneaky, or worse they’d have to talk about last night. No, worse than that would be Katie barging out of her apartment and fleeing again or walking past him like he didn’t exist. It had been sheer luck he’d managed to even get to this bed without any other bad things happening in that time.

Maybe he’d used up all his bad luck, he’d certainly hope so. Except– Fred made a mental note of a cart item idea. Bottled bad luck, he’d think about that later. 

“Come on Ollie, I thought you’d love the surprise. Nothing better than living with your best mate eh?” He wasn’t sure if Oliver would consider Fred his best mate but well, close enough. He’d thankfully not put up a fight about Fred seemingly moving in but would eventually ask what had caused it. There was no way anyone was going to believe that Fred and George were willingly and amicably spending time apart from each other. Maybe Fred could blackmail him into not asking by finding out Wood slept cuddling a quaffle or held a seance in his apartment before every game to win. He was thinking about going through his friends things earlier and then remembered why he hadn’t. He didn’t want to run the risk of finding a secret love not to Percy or something else Fred had no desire knowing.

Propping himself up on the bed, Fred rested on his elbows. “If you’re offering I’m not going to turn it down. How was practice?”

.

“It’s lucky you’re still keyed into my wards, mate, or you wouldn’t have been sleeping quite so peacefully. Maybe I would finally get some peace and quiet though, eh,” Ollie said, though his tone was full of fondness for his friend. Plonking himself down on the bed which was definitely not big enough for two grown men, Ollie gave himself a moment to think about why Fred had decided to move in without any sort of warning - but decided that was perhaps a discussion to be held over pizza, rather than straight after waking Fred up from his nap.

“What do you fancy? I’m going for mighty meaty and some garlic bread, can’t go wrong there,” Ollie grinned. “Practice was...okay,” his grin seemed to slip a little, frowning at the tension he was feeling with regards to Captaining the team these days. “I’ve been trying to motivate Blaise Zabini to do more morning exercises. I don’t think he likes my methods, but so far it seems to be working as a motivator even if Blaise is very disgruntled about it. He’s more aware in the mornings now. Reminds me of having to drag you and George out of bed in the mornings, sometimes aided with a aguamenti,” Ollie chuckled.

Flicking his wand, Oliver summoned the telephone that his mother had insisted he had installed into the flat and dialled for the pizza delivery. “Beer?” Ollie asked, pushing himself off the bed to head across to the fridge. “So, how long do you plan on staying? You know you’re welcome as long as you want, but just so I know how long to buy food for two.”

[oliverwoodkeeper]

Who: Ollie & @viktorxxkrum​ Where: Puddlemere training ground

Quidditch was Oliver’s passion. It had been since he was a little ten year old, helping his parents out at the sporting goods store, storing up helpful knowledge in his little mind that would only assist him further down the line. He’d read almost every book on Quidditch that he could get his hands on, and he had long ago lost count of the amount of hours that he’d spent training both off and on a pitch. Oliver’s confidence in himself and his own skill, along with the knowledge that he had shown his strength as a captain rarely wavered. Oliver knew himself, and a few bad games wouldn’t shake that.

But being on a pitch with an international Quidditch star who clearly thought he was better than Ollie might. At first it hadn’t shaken him too much, but Oliver had watched as Krum kept disappearing into rooms with the coaches alone and seemed to leave with a thunderous expression. He had noticed that Krum barely wanted to speak a word to him during practice, and that they had stopped heeding Ollie’s instructions. At first Oliver was happy to ignore it - but now he’d noticed that some of the team were taking Krum’s lead, and that wasn’t okay.

Hanging back in the changing room post training, Oliver waited for the place to clear out until it was just himself and Krum. “Krum, mate,” Oliver stepped in front of the door, preventing any escape. “I feel like me and you need to have a discussion. Are you free to discuss now, or are you too busy for me again?”

[oliverwoodkeeper]

ofsolipsism​:

.

Recoiling from his search as the glaring light of the rising sun hit his eyes Blaise settled for slumping back into his pillows and dramatically throwing an arm across his face like with enough despair Wood might vanish entirely, a figment of his very overactive and exhausted imagination. But instead —

Perfect conditions his perfectly toned ass. Now Wood wanted to make him breakfast as well. Was he going to try to move in next? 

The scowl that had fixed itself upon his face turned scandalised at the term like a slug (he was nothing like a slug) and he sat up, mouth open in indignation to inform Oliver as such (because teammate or no there was a certain amount of respect that the Zabini name was accorded) and received a swiftly fired pair of shorts to the face. He caught the t-shirt with his other hand, amber eyes taking a swift turn towards murderous.

Wood would pay for this — with as many Quaffles to the face as Blaise could fathom over the next few months. Slug. He snarled, dragging the t-shirt over his head before rolling out of bed to pull the shorts on as well. Pothos slunk between his ankles, purring and chattering, and he reached down to scratch his head before stalking towards the staircase. There was no wake up call quite like the potential for revenge. “Don’t mind me I’ll just be downstairs,” Blaise mimicked beneath his breath as he jogged down the stairwell, “Because I’m Oliver Wood and it doesn’t matter where you go I’ll find you because I have the nose of a fucking bloodhound.”

He hit the ground floor with a huff, storming through his disrupted sanctuary towards the back door with a bellow of, “Stop snooping around my stuff, Wood,” the little enclosed garden at the back of the house that his mother’s elves had been so painstakingly curating under the clear threat of a round of passive-aggressive morning drills as he pushed open the back door and stepped into the brisk morning air, collecting a quaffle from the bench next to the back door. 

Zabini had put up less of a fight than Oliver expected. It could be down to the time of the morning, he supposed, but it could be that subconsciously Blaise knew his morning attitude wasn’t up to scratch. For the team to win, everyone needed to bring their all to each practice - not just an hour or so into it when they’d finally woken up. He hoped that Blaise would recognise that this was for the best, it was because Oliver cared - not because he was trying to be a pain in the ass for the sake of it.

Leaving the room to allow Blaise a moment of privacy, Ollie circled back down the staircase. He was in awe at this house, that a man who lived alone had claimed such space. Oliver got a fair wage in his role at the club, but he couldn’t even imagine the amount of money that would be needed for a place like this - and he was certain it came from Madam Zabini’s suspicious wealth, rather than Zabini’s wages. He wondered if Blaise felt lonely sometimes with all this space to himself - Merlin knew Oliver would feel lonely. 

He found the exit towards the garden, satisfied that there was more than enough space for them. He took a look around the immaculate lawns with a curious eye before he heard Zabini’s bellows. “I was just admiring your gardens. House elf, or were they perhaps done by your godfather? I hear he’s a dab hand at gardening, though I wasn’t at the Ostara festival myself,” Oliver hummed. “Why don’t we start with 5 laps of the garden to get the heart up?” He suggested, though he didn’t wait for Blaise’s response before he started jogging.

[oliverwoodkeeper]

minigreengrass​:

🌠

Astoria held her head high, her eyes locked on Oliver’s mouth.  He spoke a bit faster then she was used to listening too.  The way his lips formed words left her lost for a moment, as her brain filled in the blanks.  She assumed it was from his years as a Quidditch player, They needed to speak faster then they needed to annunciate.  She chuckled a bit, her pitch an uneven light soprano.  “No, i’m not here to shut you down.. Blaise would kill me even if I tried.” She winced at the thought, though none of her sisters friends had ever been upset at her.  She had seen what their anger had looked at on more then one occasion, and she often feared what would happen if that fear was redirected her way.  

The thought alone could send a shudder down her spine, The Brats as they so affectionally called themselves were some of the most influential witches and wizards but their temperaments often clashed.  It honestly amazed Astoria but in her opinion showed how truthfully they all cared for each other without saying such out loud.  “I’m here for the Ministers complimentary tickets…” She looked down for moment out of habit before her eyes locked back with his “And I have no idea where to go?” She admitted a bit embarrassingly.  

.

This woman had a strange fixation on his mouth so it seemed. Now Oliver knew he had luscious lips, but this was too much at this time of the morning. Surely, ministry workers shouldn’t be fawning after Quidditch players when they were on the job. His eyes lit up at the mention of Blaise, and a chuckle left his lips. “Well, I’m pleased to hear you’re not going to shut us down. Blaise is a pussycat really. l even broke into his house and all he did was grumble at me, so I wouldn’t be too scared of him - no matter what he might want you to think,” Oliver divulged with a cheeky grin. If anyone should be fearing for their life, it was definitely him. And yet here he stood - in one piece. 

“Ah, the tickets...” Oliver frowned, glancing back towards the ticket office that the woman had to enter through in order to get anywhere near the pitch. “Was Alex not in the ticket office? That’s okay, let’s go and have a nosey,” Oliver placed his broomstick and his gym bag on a bench. “It’s just this way,” he murmured, heading back through the team tunnel towards the reception area of the stadium. “Are you in Magical Sports then? I don’t remember seeing you around before,” he asked. 

[oliverwoodkeeper]

Who: Oliver & @georgeweasel​ Where: Post Holyhead Harpies match, the Leaky Cauldron

There was something about the thrill of a quidditch match that left adrenaline pumping through Oliver’s veins for hours after it finished. The roar of a crowd, the rush of the wind through his hair as he darted for saves that seemed impossible and ducked away from bludgers. The joy of being captain again was that his list of complimentary tickets seemed to keep growing - which was a good thing, as the list of people who wanted tickets seemed to be never ending. His mum and dad were at every game, of course, but his old team wanted tickets and really, who was Oliver to refuse? 

He’d noticed that at this game George was alone. He wasn’t surprised - after all, Fred had been crashing in Ollie’s spare room with no end in sight. Not that he minded having another friendly presence in his home at nights, it was nice to come home to something other than silence (maybe he should get a dog). As the game came to a close, Ollie drifted across on his broomstick towards George in the stands and said one simple word. “Pub?” 

A quick shower and change later, and Ollie met George in The Three Broomsticks. A cool pint was waiting for him, and he swept it up with a grateful grin. “George, you’ve gotta get Lee down here one day soon. It’s been far too long. We’ve gotta get the whole gang back together again. Do you think we could get everyone down to the pub after the final match of the season? Y’know, you and Fred of course, Lee, Angie and Katie...”

[oliverwoodkeeper]

minigreengrass​:

Astoria was far from a fan of Quidditch.  She knew the basics as any graduate of Hogwarts would, but she knew no difference between any of the teams names or why there were more then just country sponsored teams.  She figured it was best to keep her overall lack of knowledge to herself.  She often just nodded her head and pretended to know what others were talking about when her co-workers would go off about Worlds.  She knew certain names by proxy like Viktor Krum, but that was from his part in the Tri-Wizard tournaments and not his extensive Quidditch career.  

So it would always seem like a stroke of bad luck that she was picked by the Minister to run and collect the comp tickets that his office received for almost all local games.  It often left her confused and looking around the Pitch for the face of anyone that seemed familiar.  She had hope she would run into Blaise, after all this was his team after all but alas her good luck seemed to run dry.  He was either not there yet, or perhaps there wasn’t even a practice today.  Finally spotting the uniform of someone.  She stood on her tip toes to tap the others shoulder.

“Excuse me.” She flashed her ID.  “I’m here on Ministry business.. could you help me.” She asked earnestly, clearing her throat nervously.

@oliverwoodkeeper​

One of the biggest games of the season was coming up. The Holyhead Harpies were always difficult, by Merlin did those women play well. This game would make or break their chances of topping the league. He’d been putting in stupid hours training - his abs were better than ever, but he’d barely had a moment to show them off. The fitness coaches were around, but they pretty much left Ollie alone. He was determined to lift the cup this year, and that required a hell of a lot of work. But it would all be worth it. He remembered back to the pure elation of lifting the school cup - lifting the league cup would almost certainly be ten times better.

Stepping out onto the pitch with his broom under his arm, Ollie glanced up towards the sun. It was before mid-day, meaning they still had the peak of the heat to break through and the light of the sun burning their eyes. He’d already put some sun cream on to protect from the burning rays - he made a mental note to double check the rest of the team had done so. He was lost in those thoughts and hardly noticed an unfamiliar body on the edge of the pitch until someone tapped on his shoulder. 

Whirling round, Oliver glanced down at her ID and noted her name with nod. “Ministry business huh, Greengrass? It depends on what business that might be - if you’re here to shut us down, then I swear on my mother’s life I never saw you. You’re not health and safety are you? The owners have all the paperwork in spick span shape, I would know I checked it myself,” Oliver rambled. He’d looked over the health and safety risk assessments - not that any of them had really meant anything to him. “However, if it’s anything other than shutting us down, then I most definitely can help,” he grinned.

[oliverwoodkeeper]

Who: Oliver & @draggingon​ Where: The Three Sheets, Diagon Alley

Charlie Weasley had always meant a great deal to Oliver Wood. Charlie had taken little first year Oliver under his wing and let Oliver hang around the quidditch team, even when he perhaps shouldn’t have been. Charlie had helped to nurture and grow his love of the game, and his attitude as captain had shaped Oliver’s own methods. They had both gone off to seek after their own dreams, Oliver in this country and Charlie abroad - which made meeting up for a pint somewhat difficult. Whenever Charlie was home, Ollie had asked the twins to let him know so he could try see him before he jetted off again.

Except this time seemed different. Fred had let him know weeks ago that Charlie was around, but he was still here. When pressed, Fred had kept quiet but that just set off warning bells in Ollie’s head. When they did meet up, Ollie and Charlie had always met at the three sheets. Ollie had taken to dipping into the pub at nights to see if there were any gingers in attendance. Perhaps he could’ve just owled, but where was the fun in that.

It was one sunny Thursday evening when Oliver finally spotted Charlie in the pub. Stopping by the bar, Ollie grabbed two pints of spiced mead before heading across to Charlie’s table. “Room for one more?” He asked with a grin, setting the mead down in front of him. “I’ve been checking this bloody pub every other day to see if you’re here - the barman must think I’ve gone positively mad.” 

[oliverwoodkeeper]

ofsolipsism​:

Something was wrong.

Morning had yet to infiltrate his room, but he’d felt Pothos leap from the bed, skittering away like a thing possessed to growl in a corner and the pleasant, sleepy haze that he existed in refused to reclaim him, like some nervous sixth sense was whispering in his ear that trouble was headed his way. He ignored it, as he ignored most things that tried to get his attention before he was willing to give them it, nuzzling his face further into his pillows.

Pothos’s growling dropped an octave, like the possessed little demon he was, and he took off in a thundering of paws that Blaise, cheerfully, ignored — just like he ignored what might have been footsteps (it was either too early or too late for Theo to be wandering around his house, he could wait) and the hand that dropped to his shoulder (the audacity of it) to gently shake him. It was the voice—that voice—that finally caught his attention and Blaise jerked upwards, skittering away from it with the same survival instincts that told him that it was already too late for him. Looming up out of the pre-dawn light, Oliver Wood’s face beamed down at him like a hazard light.

“Why—” he took great pains to enunciate amidst the yawn that threatened to crack his jaw, stifled behind his hand in spite of the fear that had skittered down his spine, “How— no, what—” He scrambled upwards onto elbows, sleepy eyes darting around his room in search of a weapon or something that might substitute for one. “You’re in my house.”

It dawned on Blaise, suddenly, that this might actually be his worst nightmare. He pinched at his own stomach and winced when it, predictably, hurt. A boggart, maybe? What had been the spell? Rickless? Ridiculous? Where was his wand? “You have no power here,” he warned, fruitlessly, before rolling hastily towards the opposite side of his bed. Had he left it on the nightstand? In his closet? 

As Blaise slowly roused, Oliver turned to open the curtains and let the rising sun into the room. Regardless of his reaction, Oliver was going to get Blaise out of bed and into the garden to do morning drills if it killed him. Based on the panic in his eyes and the way that Blaise scrambled for his wand, it may well. Perhaps he had underestimated the threat of the Zabinis. He was half tempted to get his notebook out again and check his notes on Madame Zabini once more. Had her ways trickled down to her son? Nobody knew he was here.

His mind was surely running away from him. Crouching down to stroke the cat who had appeared at the room, now curiously sniffing at his feet, Oliver shot a grin in Blaise’s direction. “I am indeed in your house. It’s a little earlier than I would usually do my drills, but the morning air is crisp. It’s perfect conditions,” he informed Blaise helpfully. “I assume you have eggs in? We can do drills then I’ll make a protein filled breakfast before training.”

Seeing Blaise rummage around for any sort of weapon, Ollie reached for his own just in case. “Blaise, I know it’s early, but c’mon. This is ridiculous, man. No wonder you’re like a slug first thing in the morning,” Ollie berated, though his tone was cheerful. Opening the wardrobe, Ollie plucked out some shorts and a t-shirt and tossed them onto the bed. “Get dressed. I’ll be downstairs.”

[oliverwoodkeeper]

ofpercival​:

They won.

After getting thoroughly interested in Quidditch ( partially because of Charlie, mostly because of Oliver ), Percy felt nothing but pride as the Quidditch team and their house’s members – perhaps even some non-members – flooded the common room in celebration. He couldn’t complain about the noise and clutter when Oliver was on cloud nine, having accomplished what he wanted for years. He saw how much effort the entire team put into each practice he watched from afar – they all deserved this little celebration. 

Unfortunately, Percy was hardly a people person. Though he could be polite, very few actually went out of their way to seek him out ( family included ), and being in the midst of the celebration made him feel awkward, to say in the least. He loved attention, but the few eyes that landed on him didn’t necessarily feel welcoming, so with one last smile at the team, Percy quietly slipped out of the common room and headed toward the peace of the prefect’s bathroom. 

He was there maybe twenty minutes before the door opened again, a familiar voice calling out to him. Percy’s heart pounded – Oliver came searching for him? – but he kept himself calm, looking over his shoulder from where he sat on the edge of the tub. “You can come in, you know. I’m decent.”

Percy mulled over his question before deciding to tell at least most of the truth. “I’m not good with crowds, you know that. The party’s nice, but I needed some room to breathe. How about you? Surely you didn’t leave for my sake.”

A small rush of relief ran through Ollie that his first guess had been right, and he wasn’t going to have to traipse across the whole castle. His next guess might have been the astronomy tower, although the stars weren’t particularly bright today so there wouldn’t be much to see - other than Percy. Stepping into the bathroom fully, Ollie let the door swing shut behind him. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure it was shut - no other students would be roaming around at this time of night, but the last thing that they needed was Filch poking his head where he wasn’t wanted.

Ollie stood still for a moment, looking over at Percy. Perhaps it was the adrenaline running through his veins, or perhaps it was the firewhiskey, but Ollie was half tempted to cannonball into the bath. Deciding that was perhaps not the vibe that Percy had left the common room to find, Oliver restrained himself and moved across towards Percy. He kicked his left shoe off, before frowning down at his right foot. “At some point, it seems I’ve lost a shoe. I’ll have to find that...” he trailed off, rolling up the cuffs of his trousers. 

Plonking himself down next to Percy, Oliver dangled his feet into the tub. “I thought it might be as much. I suspect the common room will be a party all night, I’m sure nobody will miss me for an hour or two. I just came to see you were alright, really. Of course, if you want me to go and you want some alone time then I won’t overstay my welcome...”

[oliverwoodkeeper]

Who: Oliver & @weaselfred​ Where: Oliver’s home

Training had been difficult today. The wind and rain had been against them all day, pushing broomsticks to the limit and battering bodies. Their reserve beater had taken a good tumble off his broom when the rain made everything a little too slippery, and Oliver had taken a bludger to the shoulder when his fingers slipped off the broom handle trying to dive out of the way. Though the team healers had checked him over, he knew that his shoulder would be a lovely shade of purple in the morning. Even so, it had been necessary to persevere. Not every game would be played in ideal conditions.

It did mean, however, that when Ollie returned home all he really wanted to do was crack open a beer and order some lazy takeout before retiring to bed early. As he stepped through the front door and hung his broom up, Oliver frowned at the sight of a coat that was most certainly not his own. “Hello?” he called out, though he reached for his wand just in case. There were people keyed into his wards that would always be able to get in, and he hadn’t felt a disturbance as he entered, but there were always people who could slip into cracks in wards.

The living room and kitchen were empty, and Ollie jogged upstairs to see that the door to one of his spare rooms was closed. Opening it with his wand up, Oliver let out a sigh of relief at the red-headed man who was sprawled out on his bed. Waking him up with a nudge of his foot, Oliver shot his dear friend a grin. “Fucking hell, Fred. Warn a man before moving into the spare room, eh? I’m gonna order pizza, want some?”

[mancandykings]

AVAN JOGIA in Now Apocalypse 1x06

[hatepotion]

The OG Quidditch team

[oliverwoodkeeper]

Who: Oliver & @ofsolipsism​ Where: Blaise’s house, 5:45am

With a look of satisfaction on his face as Ollie stared at the house that was before him, he tucked his little team notebook back into his jacket pocket. If Blaise got wind that Oliver had his address written down, he was sure that the man would wrestle the notebook from him and burn it. He’d obtained Blaise’s address through means that were nobody’s business but his own, but now he was ready to wake his teammate up for some much needed morning training. Blaise was lethargic in the mornings, and it was about time that Ollie sorted that out.

With his wand out, Oliver was anticipating to feel a push back from protective wards as he walked up to the front door but there was nothing. With a small frown, Oliver turned the handle of the front door and it swung open. It seemed odd - when Blaise joined the team, Oliver had some some surface level research into the notorious Madam Zabini. She seemed like the sort of woman who had their home protected to the nines with wards, and yet she allowed her son to live in a home with no wards and not even a locked front door?

Ollie had a quick, curious glance around the first floor. Blaise Zabini had never worried about money for a day of his life, and his home showed it. Heading upstairs, Oliver found the fourth floor and with it the master bedroom where Blaise was sleeping. With a small grin, Oliver gave Blaise’s shoulder a gentle shake. “Good morning sleepy head. It’s time for some morning drills, get yourself up and at it.”

[oliverwoodkeeper]

Who: Ollie & @ofpercival​ Where: Gryffindor Common Room When: May 1994

Oliver felt like he was on top of the world. Finally, finally, he’d lifted the Quidditch cup victoriously while the stands around them had roared. He wasn’t due to leave school for another few months yet, but if it turned out he had to leave tomorrow he’d be content. Though he’d not confessed his fears of not winning the cup to anyone (although he was sure they knew), Oliver knew his school years wouldn’t have felt complete without winning the cup. And really, the team deserved it - they’d all worked so bloody hard to get here, and seeing the ecstatic joy on their faces made all the early mornings worth it. 

The party had made its way back to the common room, loud and raucous. Crates of butterbeer had appeared, as had some bottles of firewhiskey (which Oliver suspected had something to do with Fred and George). He’d had a shot of whiskey pressed into one hand, and a bottle of butterbeer into the other. The WWN was playing but the chants of the other students was somehow managing to drown out the faint sounds of the Weird Sisters. 

Looking around the room, he could spot all of his friends - except one. His dormmate for seven years, for better and for worse, Oliver couldn’t spot Percy’s mop of red hair. Hopping up to stand on a table to get a better view, he caught a glance of the portrait opening and a flash of red before it swung shut again. Pushing through the crowd, Oliver slipped out of the common room and into the silence of the hallways. It was after curfew, but Ollie was sure he could argue an exception on today of all days. 

Wracking his brain to figure out where Percy might have gone, Oliver decided to head towards the prefect’s bathroom. There were only so many places one could hide out at this time of night. With swift footsteps, Oliver found himself at the bathroom and he quietly said the password. Pushing open the door, though not stepping in too much in case Percy was in a complete state of undress, Oliver called out “Perce? You in here? How come you’ve left the party?”