Oliver Wood is stubborn, confident, and brave... or at least that's the façade he wishes to show. Lying is easy for Oliver, but living is harder when a white-haired girl crashes into him by chance. It's too bad she's the younger sister of his quiddi...
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Everything was falling into place. Elijah had been awake for two days and in turn, everybody was basking in newfound ecstasy. Room 712 was alive again. Bustling with constant guests who brought gifts and the latest quidditch news. Elijah was ecstatic and - much to Jenna's worry - had gotten out of bed multiple times to "explore my humble abode".
Lara and Oliver went to St.Mungos together most days, with the others coming at random times to hangout. Even the entire Puddlemere team had crammed into the room upon the news of his waking - Lara kept Oliver on a tight leash this day (on his orders, not hers) just in case he said anything stupid and didn't make a good impression. Luckily he was fine, and the Puddlemere members each said they'd recommend him to a scout.
"Really!?" Oliver had burst, eyes widening and hand shooting to his heart, as if it had skipped a beat.
"Yeah, of course! Anything for a friend of the family" One member had remarked, cocking a brow at Lara, swinging his arm over her shoulder and giving a famous toothy grin.
Oliver had gone beet red, and once the couple had gotten back to the apartment, he had practically collapsed as soon as he entered Lara's room, where the orange light spilled from the drapes, taxing its white walls and turning the room into a pool of syrup.
Lara's POV
"Scouts! Lara, scouts!" Oliver revelled, falling back onto the bed with wide eyes, his mind sprinting over the days events, no doubt.
I walked through the bedroom door after him, parchment and quill in hand.
"You said" I giggled, setting my props onto her desk for later before turning to his ecstatic form.
He was in a state of high, and looked as though he'd chugged about five bottles of fire whiskey, but it was understandable; for he had worked so hard for this career path, it was his love and life and... everything the boy ever thought about!
"Scouts" Oliver breathed out, again repeating the word with such sweet delight, as if the word was made of warm, golden honey that trickled easily off his tongue. The word tasted delicious to him, and so he soaked up in it, submerging himself in the new hopes and goals for his future.?
I couldn't help but grin at his starfish form on the bed, his mouth agape. To be completely genuine, he looked like a 5 year old on Christmas Day.
"Scouts" I reiterated, trying to entertain his ecstasy by mimicking his bright voice, making the tips of my word peak into an excited squeal.
