"He's not my ginger..." Oliver murmured, "not anymore." He reached out with his left arm to grasp at Stan's shirt. "Problem is... if Pomfrey realizes I can't quite walk, she's not going to let me leave... but if I stay here even one second longer I'm going to lose my mind."
Oliver looked at Stan closely, "you gotta help me sneak out without her noticing. Think you can manage mate?"