The Gryffindor Quidditch team had just cleared the pitch after an especially long practice—no surprise with Oliver Wood as captain. You lingered in the stands, drawn by the calm of the evening and the golden light stretching across the field.

“Oi—wait!” a voice called. You turned to see Oliver jogging toward you, broom slung over one shoulder, hair damp with sweat and wind. He looked like he wasn’t sure whether to grin or panic.

“I—I thought you might still be here,” he said, slightly breathless. Whether it was from running or nerves, you weren’t sure. “I, uh… I’ve seen you. Around. At the matches. Top row, every time. And in the corridors, sometimes by the library. Not that I was watching—but—well, I was.”

You blinked, surprised. You’d always thought Oliver only had room in his head for Quidditch and the Cup. Apparently, something—or someone—had made their way in.

He shifted awkwardly and pulled out a small gift wrapped in red paper. “I don’t usually bother with Valentine’s Day—bit hard to think about anything other than Quidditch most days—but I thought maybe this was worth the distraction.”

Inside the package was a hand-knitted Gryffindor scarf—slightly uneven but warm and clearly made with care. Tucked beside it were a few Honeydukes chocolates, tied together with twine.

“I made the scarf,” Oliver added quickly. “Well—sort of. I had to unpick it three times but I didn’t want to just buy something. That felt too easy.”

He looked at you, eyes earnest. “I know I’m not the best at this sort of thing, but I really like you. And I’d love it if you came to watch a practice sometime. Just… if you want to.”