Pairing: Oliver Wood/Harry Potter
Rating: R (I think it's PG-13, but just to be safe I'm saying R.)
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the world and the characters, I just came up with the plot. I make no profit from these writings.
Vie
Oliver sits at the Gryffindor table the morning of the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff and he's pleased that Harry's already awake. Today's the big day and he thinks he might just be sick, but he's happy.
The weather is very unpleasant. Oliver can't remember a time when the weather was this bad during a Quidditch match. He can't eat and he keeps glancing at Harry.
He leads them into the changing rooms after breakfast and he makes sure his team knows how much they need to win this game.
He takes off into the air and he's got one eye on Harry and the other on the Quaffle. He doesn't think Harry can see in this weather and he hopes desperately that he doesn't fall. If he falls, then Oliver would never be able to make his speech.
He had planned it all out the night before. He knows everything he needs to say; he has rehearsed a million times in his head. He can't see how he can go wrong. Well, Harry can reject him and think he's a pervert but Oliver is trying to be optimistic. This was going to be his big shot and he wasn't going to blow it.
They would win the match and then he would tell Harry how much he loved him and Harry would... well, he didn't know what Harry would do.
Oliver had just blocked a Quaffle when he noticed the company on the field. A darkness much different than that of the weather fell over the stadium and the ground was covered in Dementors. His eyes automatically searched for Harry and he saw, to his horror that Harry was falling.
Everything stopped and Oliver just watched, helplessly, as Harry fell from a very high altitude. He started forward; totally unaware that Cedric Diggory had just caught the snitch. He is more worried than he can ever remember being in his entire life and all he can see is Harry falling and falling and falling.
Then Harry really slows down. Oliver can't believe, for a brief moment he thinks that he had done it. His desperation had slowed Harry down but then he sees Dumbledore and he feels his stomach drop. Of course, he thinks bitterly, how could I have possibly helped Harry?
Harry hits the ground softly and Oliver, unable to do anything to help, moves off the pitch towards the changing room.
His teammates follow him. Fred Weasley tells him they had lost and Oliver honestly can't remember responding. He knows they must think he is distraught over losing... but they can't know how Oliver really feels.
With his clothes on, and not a thought to how silly he looks, he steps into the shower and turns on the water, turning the nozzle until the water is steaming hot against his skin.
He lays his head against the shower tiles and cries.
They had lost. He had almost lost Harry.
He sinks down to his knees in the shower and the hot water pounds onto his back and shoulders as he weeps.
How could he tell Harry now? After this, how could he add to the already large weight on Harry's shoulders? It just wouldn't be right. He would just have to keep it to himself... it was the only way.
Oliver had no idea how much time had passed but before he knew it, Madam Hooch was calling into the room. Telling him she was locking up and that he had better get a move on if he is to make curfew.
Oliver picks himself up, takes off his soaking clothes, and washes himself quickly before toweling off and dressing. All his movements are mechanical as he thinks of what he has to do. For Harry's sake, he'd have to just get over Harry. For Harry's sake, he would. Because Harry didn't need the extra baggage.
Oliver goes to see Harry in the hospital, he tells him that it's not his fault and he leaves knowing that Harry is well.
The holidays finally arrive and Harry has bounced back from the incident completely, much to Oliver's delight. Oliver is going home for the Christmas holidays, but before he goes he reminds Harry to buy a broom. He wants to hug Harry and tell him how happy he is that he didn't die, but he can't bring himself to do it.
He goes home and he spends the entire break thinking about Harry.
His mother asks him on a daily basis if he's sure he's feeling okay.
He doesn't feel as excited about Christmas as he usually is. The presents, as great as they are, do nothing to cheer him up.
He doesn't think he can go on like this. He's not moving on like he promised himself he would. He starts to wonder how much of a burden it would be to tell Harry.
If Harry doesn't feel the same way, then they can just forget it ever happened. And if Harry does... well, then it would be a good thing because he would be able to help Harry.
He thinks maybe he should just get it over with at the start of the new term.
He gets back to school and he sees Harry but Harry's with Ron Weasley. Why are they always together? Oliver thinks angrily, suddenly very jealous of the friendship Ron has with Harry.
He wants to get it over with as quickly as possible. He watches Harry, waits for the perfect moment. Harry's gotten a Firebolt for Christmas and Oliver has offered to ask McGonagall about the broom. He talks to Harry on the pretense of keeping him updated.
Finally, he catches Harry alone but he can't tell him in a crowded hallway. He can't tell him in between classes so he just asks that Harry meet him in one of the empty third floor classrooms around midnight. Harry's known for sneaking out of the common room so Oliver doesn't think it'll be a problem.
Harry agrees and Oliver smiles and goes to class and tries to concentrate on his schoolwork. After classes, he tries to do homework, he tries to eat, but he can't seem to manage anything more than gazing stupidly around as he sits in his dorm.
He goes down to practice and he can't keep his eyes off of Harry. He tries not to talk to Harry too much; he doesn't want Harry to think something's up. Oliver doesn't really know what Harry thinks and so he doesn't want to make anything worse than it is.
He manages to avoid Filch as he makes his way to the empty classroom on the third floor. He heard a rumor that Harry had saved the Sorcerer's Stone when it was locked away somewhere in the third floor. He had been so proud and scared when he had heard.
And then he's there, on the third floor looking at Harry. He had appeared out of thin air and was holding what must be an invisibility cloak in one hand.
"Hi," Oliver starts awkwardly.
"Hi, Oliver. What's this all about?" Harry asks him, looking around anxiously.
"Harry, I... I just wanted to talk to you. McGonagall she's still got your broom. I think you should start thinking about buying a new one." Oliver curses himself for being so stupid. How could he bring up the stupid broom now?
Harry gives Oliver a very disbelieving glare, "I know, Oliver, you told me this morning. Is that why you wanted to meet me?"
Oliver takes a tentative step closer to Harry, he doesn't know what he is doing, his mouth and his body seem to be working independent from his brain, "Harry, you know you've made me really proud these past three years, right?"
"Sure," Harry says slowly.
"Our team just wouldn't be the same without you."
"Uh, thanks, Oliver. That's really nice."
"I wouldn't be the same without you."
Harry's eyebrows rise, but he says nothing.
"I'm just going to come out and say this Harry because it's not going to go away and I really need you to know that I... I want you, Harry, like I'm not supposed to. I'm gay, Harry." So this definitely isn't how the conversation went in Oliver's head but at least he has said it.
Harry's lips part slightly and he inhales sharply but he stays quiet.
"I just needed to tell you because this is my last year and you keep having this accidents and I worry so much that something's going to happen to you and I hate myself so much for doing this to you. I know you're only thirteen, and you probably don't understand or want the same things I want but I just needed to tell you..." Oliver trails off.
He thinks it would be wise to let Harry speak.
Finally, Harry speaks up and Oliver feels his heart drop, "I don't understand."
Oliver opens his mouth but Harry stops him, "I don't understand what you want from me. I'm not mad or anything, it's OK. I think I'm glad you told me. I'm not sure, I just want to know what you want from me."
Oliver smiles indulgently, "I wouldn't know where to start, Harry. I just want to be special to you, Harry. I just want to be with you."
"You're a boy, though, I mean..." Oliver watches as a blush rises into Harry's cheeks.
"I'm gay, Harry, I like boys..."
"This is weird, I don't know what to say." Harry looks so flustered and Oliver wants to hug him and hold him close but he reminds himself that behavior like that would be totally inappropriate.
"I know you're young and you've never had to deal with any of this stuff, I just... do you want me, Harry? Do you feel any type of attraction to me?"
Harry blushes even harder, "I don't know, Oliver. I've never thought about any boy like that."
Oliver starts to feel embarrassed and feels very foolish for having brought any of this up, "Just... how about we meet here in a week and you can think about it, OK? Just think about it, Harry."
Harry nods slowly and Oliver backs out of the room and runs back to the common room.