Oliver, for all his protests of being happily single and child free, loved kids. He didn't want his own, because it was one thing to have a kid, another to be able to send the kid back to it's parents after a few hours of babysitting. Still, Oliver didn't mind too much being stopped by a few boys on his way into George's shop.
He was just popping in to say hey to George while he was in Diagon Alley, and practice didn't start back up again until after the hot of the day—with the season ending soon, they were taking to double practices during the week. He had an hour or two to kill before it cooled down enough, so he'd gone to grab some lunch, and head by to get some Quidditch supplies—his gloves were getting worn.
But getting on fifteen minutes of chatting and talking to total strangers was about at his limit, especially when he'd just come by to talk to George. He started edging through the small crowd, seriously thanking each person in it, but also seriously impressing upon them his prior engagement with Mr. Weasley.
"Good luck in the game this weekend, Mr. Wood!" The first two boys had hung around the longest, still in awe of seeing their Quidditch hero.
"Thanks, mates. Dinna buy too many pranks in George's shop, aye? Dinna want your parents punishing you and making you miss the match this weekend," he warned, good humor lacing his voice.
"Yessir, Mr. Wood," they agreed. Oliver gave a little wave before turning back, promptly bumping into Emma.
"Och, sorry 'bout that," he apologised, giving her a smile. "I'm just causing all kinds of commotion." It could have been a cocky statement, but he looked appropriately apologetic and sincere.