"If ever I want you to bugger off, I'll let you know," he assured her, pulling her in against his chest again. Oliver doubted he'd ever tell her any such thing. He liked having her around. And the little circles she was drawing on him with her finger were really quite pleasant.
At her mention of his own plans, the pull towards the outdoors he had been ignoring came back with renewed vigor, and Oliver gasped at the fear that he was going to be kicked off the team, the certainty that his entire life, his dreams, were going to slip out between his fingers. He bounced his head against the wall behind him, eyes closed, willing himself to knock it off. This was more important, this - Nothing was more important than Quidditch, he had to get back out there. He had to get back to work or he wouldn't even be able to sit on a broom when he got back.
"Was that your luggage?" he asked her, ignoring her question. He couldn't-... He couldn't answer it right now. He had to steel himself first, had to get a grip.