Eight months.

Eight months of chaos, laughter, teasing, love so loud that the entire Hogwarts castle could probably hear it echoing through the halls. Eight months of late-night conversations, stolen kisses in empty corridors, and that unspoken understanding that no one else would ever be enough.

And eight months of frustration.

You loved Oliver more than anything, but sometimes… sometimes it felt like Quidditch came first. Always first. And it wasn’t that you didn’t understand—the man was passionate, driven, born to lead a team—but there were nights when you wanted him to just… notice you. Truly notice you, not just as a girlfriend but as someone who needed him, someone who loved him more than she loved herself.

It had been one of those nights. Another argument. Words thrown, voices raised, hearts aching.

“I just… I need more from you, Ollie!” you had shouted, tears brimming, chest tight.

He had tried to argue, to reason, to remind you of how important Quidditch was to him, how he couldn’t give less than everything to the team, but you hadn’t listened.

“I think… maybe we need a break. Figure things out.”

And with that, you walked away. He tried to call after you, tried to reach for your hand, but the words were lost. You had already left.

The next few days were unbearable.

You missed him in every quiet moment: in the library when a shadow of his smile danced across your mind, in the Great Hall when someone brushed past and reminded you of his closeness, in the corridors when laughter echoed and it wasn’t his.

Oliver, too, was struggling. His broom rides were sloppy. He missed passes during practice. His teammates noticed, but Oliver couldn’t explain why he couldn’t focus. His thoughts were tangled with you, replaying every argument, every kiss, every moment when you had looked at him with both love and frustration.

You were both hurting. Both confused. Both desperately wishing things hadn’t gotten so complicated.

And then… the worst happened.

One evening, Draco Malfoy—of all people—had found you alone, sitting under an oak tree in the Hogwarts grounds, tears streaming down your face.

“I… I know what it’s like to feel lost,” he had said, in that irritatingly calm way he always had. “You’re not alone.”

You had been crying, heart raw, and his presence had been comforting. Too comforting.

Before you knew it, you had crossed a line you never intended to cross. One night, one mistake. And then, morning came. You woke up with regret heavier than any Quidditch match loss you’d ever experienced, staring at Draco asleep beside you.

You hated yourself for it, but… the mistake was yours alone. And Oliver didn’t know. And he never would

Later that same day, as you were trying to lose yourself among the stacks in the library, Oliver appeared.

He cornered you behind a shelf, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that made your chest ache. His hands rested on the shelves beside you, gently, just enough to make sure you didn’t step away “[Y/N],” he whispered, voice low but urgent, “I can’t… I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

You stared at him, heart hammering.

“I’ve tried,” he continued, taking a step closer, “to focus, to… to just deal with this distance. But it’s impossible. You’re impossible. I love you. And I’m sorry for everything. For the fights. For not noticing when you needed me. For making you feel like I put something else before you. You’re all I want.”

You couldn’t breathe for a moment. The weight of his words, the raw honesty, the love in his eyes—it was everything you had been missing.

“You’re… you’re sure?” you whispered, voice trembling.

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

And in that moment, all the hurt, all the absence, all the chaos of the past weeks dissolved. Because it was Oliver. Your Oliver. The one who made your heart race with a single look. The one who had kissed away tears, argued through storms, and loved you fiercely even when it was messy.

You let yourself lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck.