(now playing: cigarette daydreams by cage the elephant)

There have come times in Oliver Wood’s life when time seemed to slow down; moments when his breath was snatched away or caught back; when he loses himself in the mellow haze of life.

The mellow haze of life in question would be you.

More often than not, you’re the cause of his heart palpitations and breathlessness; his heart skips more beats than it should whenever you so much as glance at him, whether it be during a simple sweep of everyone present or anytime your imperceptible, focused gaze lands on him during Quidditch matches; and he chokes whenever you crack a grin at him, even if it’s at his expense.

He’s gotten hit in the head by fifteen Quaffles this week alone just from getting distracted.

The lights of the Great Hall seem to wink at Oliver as he takes his seat next to Percy Weasley.

You’re not there yet, Oliver notices. He immediately regrets noticing it, however, because why in the world is he searching the Slytherin table and noting your absence?

Sometime after, you somehow go from not being there to sitting in your usual seat, on the one end of the table, next to Adrian Pucey and across from Daphne Greengrass.

Your gaze flits over the tables of the other Houses, and when you catch Oliver staring at you, your lips curl into a lazy smirk. You offer him a half-mocking, half-earnest wave, your smirk widening as Oliver’s eyes widen and shift in the other direction fast enough to get optic whiplash.

And then he looks back.