Oliver Wood could handle anything. A full match in the rain? Easy. Grueling four-hour practices? Child’s play. A rogue Bludger nearly taking his head off? Fine.

But Valentine’s Day? Specifically, getting the perfect gift for you?

He was dying. Absolutely dying.

Oliver paced by the fireplace like a madman, running his hands through his hair until it stuck up in every possible direction.

Hermione sat nearby, pretending to read but mostly watching him unravel.

“I need something good,” Oliver muttered to himself. “Something perfect. Something that says ‘I love you and I’m not an idiot.’”

“You don’t have to panic,” Hermione said gently.

“Yes I do!” Oliver snapped, then winced. “Sorry. But I do. It’s our first Valentine’s since we started dating and she deserves— I don’t know— a masterpiece."

Hermione set her book down. “Alright. What ideas do you have?”

Oliver brightened instantly. “Oh! I was thinking— Quidditch gloves!”

Hermione stared at him.

“Quidditch gloves,” she repeated.

“Yes! New ones! The leather ones! She’d love—”

“She doesn’t even play Quidditch, Oliver.”

He froze. Stared. Went pale.

“…She doesn’t?”

Hermione sighed. “No. She supports you. She doesn’t play.”

Oliver dragged his hands down his face. “Oh no. I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

“You’re not,” Hermione said, trying not to laugh. “You’re just— very, very bad at gifts.”

“That’s not helping!”

She hid a smile behind her hand. “Okay. Let’s brainstorm.”

Hermione took out parchment. “Let’s make a list.”

“Great. Good. A list,” Oliver said, trying to breathe normally.

He began pacing again.

“Alright, idea number one: Quidditch gloves—”

“Oliver.”

“Right, sorry. What about— a broom polish kit?”

“Oliver!”

“What? It’s useful!”

“It’s horrible.”

Oliver collapsed into a chair, burying his face in a pillow.

Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“Try thinking about what she likes,” Hermione said. “Not what you like.”

“Right,” Oliver mumbled. “Her. Not me. Her interests.”

He perked up.

“What if I decorate her broom with little—”

“Oliver!”

He groaned loudly into the pillow. “I’m hopeless.”

Hermione gently pulled the pillow from his hands.

“Okay. Think smaller. Think meaningful.” She began listing options. “Chocolate. Flowers. A personalized note. A charm bracelet. A framed photo of you two—”

Oliver stiffened.

“A photo,” he whispered. “Like… something she can keep in her dorm. Something that reminds her of us.”

Hermione smiled. “Now you’re thinking!”

He jumped to his feet.

“And— and I can get her chocolate too! The fancy kind she likes. And— and maybe a scarf in her House colors. Something cozy. Something that smells like— well— not me, but— nice!”

Hermione laughed softly. “That’s much better.”