Everything- Oliver Wood

𝟜𝟟. 𝕄𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕤

"Yes, sir," he nods. "Family's lived there for a good few hundred years." 

"You know, I can always pin where someone's from based on the accent," my dad nods, smirking to my sister and mum. 

"He's just got a pretty distinct accent, dad," I roll my eyes, stepping inside. 

"It's a talent," he nods to Oliver. 

"Yes, sir," Oliver says. 

"Let's eat, shall we," my mum offers. We all take our seats.

"So, Oliver, what are your plans after you leave school?"

"I want to be an athlete, sir." 

"Athlete?" My father laughs. "You'd better be a good one, then. Or else you'll end up like every other beggar in London." 

"Yes, sir." 

"He is a good one," I say. 

"What do you play, son?" 

"Uh..." 

"What, you're not sure?" my father laughs. 

I mouth "Football" to Oliver. He nods. 

"I play football." 

"Ah, a football player, huh? You know, in America they call it soccer." 

"Do they?" Oliver asks. 

My father nods. "Complete drivel if you ask me; just like everything else they do over there." He laughs again, an abrasive and booming laugh. 

"Yes sir," Oliver nods. 

Dinner goes by without any incidents. Much to my relief, my father doesn't have any angry outbursts and doesn't even drink too much. It seems like he's actually trying to get to know my boyfriend. 

I have to remind myself that I don't want to be on friendly terms with my dad, no matter how much I may want my boyfriend and my father to get along. I start to feel kind of stupid; Oliver's impression of my dad is probably wildly different than what I've told him about. 

After my father has finally retired for the evening, I take Oliver upstairs to show him my room. 

"Is there a quidditch shrine?" he asks as we ascend the stairs. 

"No," I laugh. "It's a pretty typical teenage girl room." 

Oliver walks in and smiles. "Awe, cute," he says, picking up one of the stuffed animals on my bed. 

"His name is Mr. Buttons. I've slept with him every night since I was 4," I smile. 

"You've been sleeping with someone else this whole time?" Oliver gasps, looking offended and hugging Mr. Buttons. 

"Shut up," I grin, taking the plushie from his hands. We both sit down on my bed. 

"Your dad was nice." 

"Yeah," I nod. 

"Interesting guy." 

I laugh. "You probably think I've been overdramatic about him." 

"No, not at all." 

"Really?" 

"I definitely see the 'pompous bastard' side of him." 

"Oh, good," I smile. "I was starting to worry that you'd think I'm the issue in our household." 

"No, no," he shakes his head. "Shocking to know that you've got a dad who can identify accents though." 

"Oh, he's the 8th world wonder," I grin. 

"What a talent," Oliver laughs. 

My mum knocks on the door. "Laurie, we've got a brunch party tomorrow morning." 

"Thanks, mum, Oliver was just about to leave," I call out. 

"Aw, was I?" Oliver pouts. 

"Yes, I have brunch tomorrow morning, haven't you heard?" I smile. 

"I let you sleep in my room for 2 whole nights, you know." 

"You don't have an asshole father," I point out. 

"True, true," he sighs. "Alright, I shall see you in a weeks time." 

"You can still write to me," I laugh. 

"Every hour," he nods dramatically. 

"Maybe not quite that often."

"Laurie?" My mom calls from downstairs. 

"Looks like you're being kicked out now," I say. 

We get up and go downstairs. My mum and Joyce give Oliver a hug and go upstairs. 

I walk Oliver out to the Knight Bus. 

"Bye, love," he says, leaning down to give me a kiss. 

"Travel safe," I say, "I'll see you at Kings Cross." 

He gets on the bus and waves to me one last time. "Happy Christmas!" 

I grin and wave back, watching as he becomes a blur.  

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