Isla belongs to @autisticarachnid who drew this stunning art of our children that I based this fic off of
@hphm-fandom-events
Sometimes, Oliver really wondered how he got so lucky. Isla was the most stunning human being on the planet - that night especially - and she went for him? Loser farm boy with, quoting Andre, “the worst hair cut to ever disgrace the halls of Hogwarts”? Him? Maybe his mother was right, and kindness was all that mattered, or maybe Isla just had conveniently awful taste, but Oliver was going to continue thank his lucky stars and do his best to be worthy of her.
Speaking of stars.
“I think this is your best look yet,” Oliver said, taking Isla's hands in his. Her deep blue gown was covered in silver stars and moons, making her shine even brighter than she already did, her hair was done up all nice, and, best of all, she was relaxed for the first time in months. Not one person had lied about how awful the N.E.W.T.s were, but not even all the warnings in the world could have prepared Oliver for the insanity he’d had to deal with. The ball that McGonagall planned for the seventh years seemed to be just the thing everyone needed after going through all of that stress.
Well, maybe not everyone. Oliver knew of at least three people who were sleeping the night away instead. Honestly, if he didn’t have Isla to spend time with he’d probably have joined them.
“You say that every time,” she reminded him.
Oliver played with one of the curls she’d left out of her up-do, grinning. “And I’m right every time.”
“Mhm, sure,” Isla said, but she had that fond smile on her face that he was so in love with, so her sarcastic tone meant nothing and they both knew it. “You can’t even pretend to be surprised, you know. I sent you the matching set.”
It was true, she had. Vera had delivered the package right as Oliver was about to get dressed in his boring black formal robes, but seeing the stunning celestial-patterned fabric on himself in the mirror was nothing compared to seeing it on Isla right in front of him - which he told her, and then delighted in the roll of her eyes. Sometimes he wondered if she wasn’t a full-blooded Veela. But then, if she was, he’d be under a trance the whole time he was near her, and wouldn’t be coherent enough to appreciate her the way she deserved.
They danced. They laughed with friends. They spent a large chunk of time by the refreshment table. It was a fun night, truly, but Oliver felt himself fading. He was exhausted from the past two weeks, and he knew Isla was too, because she had the cutest little tilt of her head and was sway slightly on her feet. Time for a scenery change. The next time there was a lull in excitement, he took her hand and pulled her out of the Great Hall.
“Courtyard?” she asked.
Oliver smiled. “You know it.”
The quiet upon leaving the castle walls was instant relief, as well as the much darker lighting. Oliver led Isla over to the fountain. When he sat, she sat right in his lap, and he wrapped his arms around her. This was what Heaven was - a warm night under the stars with only the sound of trickling water and the love of his life as close as she could be.
“You know,” Isla said softly, “you haven’t kissed me all night.”
“I don’t want to ruin your lipstick.”
She laughed. “It’s charmed, dumbass.”
Well. In that case.
Oliver got a finger under her chin to guide her into a kiss. Nothing crazy, just a sweet press of lips that tasted faintly of the sugary snacks they’d eaten. Goosebumps rose on his skin despite the warmth of the night as Isla ran her fingers through his hair. Suddenly overwhelmed with affection, he melted, resting his head on her shoulder and sighing in contentment.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“Not more than I love you.”
“Nope, I love you more.”
“Nuh uh,” Isla teased. He hid his smile in her neck, though he was sure she could feel it. It was the one argument they’d never solved - despite having it at least once a week - and one that Oliver suspected they never would. He looked forward to arguing with her forever.
Scene originally created by @autisticarachnid - hope I did our kids justice!!!
Ship: Oliver/Isla ❤️⭐️
Date: June 4, 1988 (fourth year)
"Gryffindor wins the match, and the Quidditch Cup!"
The chaos was instant. Before Oliver even landed his broom, he could see the swarm forming as people rushed out of the stands to congratulate the team. His ears would be ringing for hours after this the screams were so loud, and he thought for maybe half a second about casting a charm to save himself the trouble before dispelling the notion. He'd take the pain as it came - he wanted to bask in this. Oliver summoned his glasses from the changing rooms to shove them onto his face, the vision charm having worn off a little while ago. Basking did require being able to see properly.
It hadn't been an easy match, but that only made the victory even more exhilarating. Slytherin had been determined to win. The overall scores had been close enough that it was anybody's game, with Gryffindor only behind by 30 points after their last match with Hufflepuff. Oliver had nearly lost his eye blocking shots from Skye, and he almost wasn't exaggerating about it. He bet that bruise was going to look great in the morning. A glance toward the other side of the field showed that he may still be in danger, actually. Skye looked pissed.
"We did it!" Vera screamed, tackling her nearest teammate with a hug - thankfully, Oliver was closest to Charlie, who merely held up his hand for a high five. As excited as he was, he didn't need more bruises. The high five did sting though.
"Any last words before the swarm hits?" Charlie joked.
Oliver laughed, shaking his head. "I think I'm good, you?"
"Tell my parents I love them."
"Will do."
Someone tapped on his shoulder, and Oliver turned around to see Isla staring at him with an odd look on her face. He wondered why she hadn't gone to her sister, who was still busy running around like a crazy person, and he was too caught off guard to do anything other than let her yank him down to her level, completely confused at what was happening -
- and then he couldn't really hear the crowd anymore. He couldn't really think, either, or see. He couldn't feel his broom in his hand, so he must have dropped it. He wasn't sure when. But he could feel Isla: her hand twisted in his sweater, her hair brushing his cheeks, and her lips pressed firmly to his. If Oliver could think... well, he wasn't sure what he would be thinking, because he couldn't.
A loud, "Finally!" made them jump apart, though not too far with Isla's hand still holding tight. Oliver blinked rapidly, staring down at her with his jaw dropped open.
Oh, he thought. He'd closed his eyes. That was why he couldn't see.
Isla's jaw was also hanging, like she was shocked at what she'd just done, and Oliver could sympathize because he was also pretty shocked. The cold air had turned her cheeks pink. His were burning too, damn wind. Also, his hands were shaking. Also also, it wasn't cold at all, so Oliver was having a hard time processing what was going on right now. Isla definitely hadn't just kissed him, and she wasn't blushing. That wasn't possible.
He was definitely blushing though. It tended to happen around her.
"Uh," he said.
Isla gave a shy smile, and Oliver nearly melted on the spot.
"Thanks for beating Slytherin for me," Isla said, as though that explained everything.
It took a second for his brain to catch up, but oh, right, Slytherin had knocked Ravenclaw out of the running, and Isla had told him to win for her. Damn, if he'd known what the prize would be for winning, he'd probably have completely fumbled and lost. Good thing she hadn't mentioned it.
"Coming through, photographer, move out of the way!"
Isla nearly jumped a mile as the team crowded in. "Oh, I'll just - "
"Nuh uh," Vera said, having snuck up behind them at some point, "you're staying right there!"
Oliver thanked his lucky stars he was photogenic, because Vera shoved Isla back into his arms a mere two seconds before the camera flashed and he wasn't sure what his face was doing. The crowd's cheers went up another notch as a banner was magically raised behind the team:
Quidditch Cup Champions, 1988
"Oof!"
Oliver was tackled from the side, landing painfully on the ground.
"Vera," he whined, "I'm already sore."
"Too bad," Vera said, smiling widely as she helped him stand. "You're officially my brother-in-law now, which means I can legally hurt you."
"Definitely not how that works," Oliver said, rolling his shoulder, but then her words sank in and he felt faint again. "Brother-in-law?"
"Vera," Isla whined, burying her face in her hands.
