Oliver was cotton mouth and bleary eyed. Blinking once a century it felt like as he struggled to wake up. Fleetingly he would feel a hand pressed to the side of his face. Fingers twisted with his own. A press of lips to his forehead. Sometimes it even felt like he was listening to people talk while his head was held underwater. The experience was harrowing. It didn’t get better when he woke up.
The lights felt too bright despite the dimmed levels. There wasn’t much noise of people around him but he was aware enough to know he was in a hospital somewhere. A jolt and he realized he had no idea why he was in the hospital. The bedside table held only a jug of water and a cup that was upside down on a napkin. Which was to be expected his throat felt absolutely raw. The only thing that didn’t make sense was the very adult, very attractive man slouched low in the chair at his bedside.
A hitch of breath and Oliver stared at the face. He seemed familiar but it was beyond his brain power to figure it out. Gods was he hot, though. Oliver would bet his signed Krum poster that he’d never seen someone that good looking before. Thick black eyebrows with short but messy hair that looked to be finger combed one too many days in a row. With facial hair that meant it had been just a tad too long to be considered a 5 o'clock shadow covering the sharp jaw line and part of his neck. A blush and Oliver looked away before struggling to sit up.
It was more of a struggle than he imagined it would be too. Since not, a few moments into trying to sit up from the creaky bed Mr.Tall dark and way too hot to be sitting here was awake with a curse and stretching forward hands first to help. It made Oliver fumble in all kinds of awkward ways before he was propped up.
“Oli I swear one of these days you’re going to get really hurt with the stunts you pull to block a goal.” Merlin’s beard that voice was sexy wasn’t it. Sleep rasped but it felt like fire whiskey tasted like. A shudder and Oliver tried to right himself before he cleared his throat and croaked out a confused.
“Why are you calling me Oli?” The man paused and tilted his head while his eyes narrowed watching Oliver.
“What year do you think it is?” He questioned back only for Oliver to pout. “Oi, I asked first.”
A huff from the stranger. “Because I been calling you that for a while. Answer me,” This time the tone was a bit more forceful and it bothered Oliver so much that it reminded him of someone but he couldn’t place it.
“I’m in my seventh year of Hogwarts-” A sharp inhale from the stranger and Oliver just narrowed his own eyes before finishing with “so that makes it 1994…”
“No,” was all the stranger said before he was hunched over with his face in his hands cursing up a storm. Oliver’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hair thanks to the colorful swearing. In the back of his mind, he knew he would have to remember some of those.
It had been a week since he woke up and Oliver wasn’t any better. He was married to Marcus fucking Flint of all people. They had kids. KIDS. He played for Puddlemore United (which he was pretty fucking excited about even if he was benched for the foreseeable future). He was missing his memory for the last 12 years of his life. He kind of felt cheated because of that last bit.
At least he wasn’t coddled. Sure every once in a while he would catch Marcus staring at him with an odd look in his eye and a rather blank face but it could have been worse. The girls, they were absolutely wonderful and made fun of him everytime he did something wrong or ‘forgot’ something of their usual routine. They also were told about his memory loss. So they did their best to make sure he grew to love them just as much as he did before. (He had no idea how to tell them it made his heart stutter everytime they called him Papa.) Honestly, he doubted they had to keep that competition up for very long.
It was one of these reminders that had Oliver and Marcus fighting once again, though. Because while Marcus wasn’t coddling he didn’t want Oliver on a broom again yet. “It was how you got hurt!” “You’ll have your brain fall out of your ears next!” “They can survive one weekend without a match Oli!” Oliver had listened to more excuses than he ever gave Flint credit for being able to create.
He also absolutely ignored Flint and told the girls they’d keep it low to the ground so their Da wouldn’t hex him into his next life sooner than expected. Marcus was out getting things for the house though so he took the chance and him and the girls were out in the backyard flying no more then five feet from the ground. He was thoroughly impressed 8-year-olds were flying as well as they were so he might have made the rookie mistake of letting them get away with more than they should have.
Which meant it was one furious Marcus Flint he had to deal with when he got home to the mess he had. Faith had broken an arm for fuck’s sake and honestly, Oliver should have expected it. Hope did her best to try and stop them from fighting but when Marcus sent them to their room after mending the arm they both dragged their feet with apologies.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t think it’d get out of hand that quickly! I should have asked.” Oliver tried only to have Marcus turn on him with a snarl.
“You didn’t have to ask- you should have known better!” The comment was so infuriating though and Oliver ground his teeth while Marcus kept on. “You’re their Father just as much as I am and you didn’t stop to think why there are suggested rules of why kids shouldn’t fly that high!? OUR kids especially? Have you met you! You’re daft enough to get the memory knocked right out and yet this seemed a good idea?”
“Oi!” Oliver called out before shoving at Flint’s shoulder. “Thay aren’t my kids I just fucking met-” The punch Flint landed had Oliver’s head snapping back while blood instantly started to pour from his nose. A curse and Oliver was fumbling while Flint rushed forward in a panic to keep him steady. A half unsteady stumble backward and Oliver just shook his head in an aborted 'nope’ before he fell unconscious. The panic he saw on Flint’s face was something Oliver doubted he would ever forget.
The next time Oliver woke up in a hospital he remembered more than he wanted to. The pounding behind his eyes was something fierce but he didn’t pause a bit as he jolted right up reaching out to where he knew Marcus’ hand would be.
“Marcus! Marc, baby, love what in the bloody hell-” Another curse and Oliver figured he would have to talk to Marcus about how much cursing he did truly they had kids they were raising for fuck sake. Only he didn’t get to complain about that as Marcus was kissing him. Shit. How long had it been now? Days? Weeks? Over a month? He hadn’t kissed his husband in over a month. Merlins beard he hadn’t even acted like they liked each other. In front of the girls no less.
Oliver pulled away with tears blurring his vision. “Do you remember?” Marcus asked with a ragged breath. Oliver nodded almost frantically while he twisted his fingers into the front of Marcus’ shirt keeping him close. He never wanted to have it happen again that was for sure.