Quidditch (And Other Distractions)

People who knew Oliver Wood often said that he never walked anywhere—he strode with a purposeful air that could rival any professor’s, including McGonagall and the particularly loathsome Snape. People who didn’t know Oliver Wood said that he put on airs, and often claimed he was a bit of a stuffed shirt.

Neither set of people would have believed their eyes had they seen Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Keeper Oliver Wood creeping up the right-hand staircase of Gryffindor tower, a small orange light burning in the palm of his hand to light the way up the old, uneven steps.

Wood himself was nearly shaking with anxiety as he slunk up the stone stairway. He knew he was breaking several school rules—not many, but they were certainly important ones. He knew his expedition this night wasn’t wise. He also didn’t care.

Pushing open a door on the sixth-floor landing, Wood closed his hand over his little orange flame so it wouldn’t give him away to anybody who happened to be awake inside. It glowed red through his fingers, but didn’t seem to burn him. After a long minute, he relaxed his hand and slipped through the door, closing it silently behind him.

The curtains at the window on the far side of the room hadn’t been pulled, and a large rectangle of silver moonlight spilled across the floor. Six shadowy four-poster beds lined the walls, three on each side, covered in darkness. But Wood wasn’t paying any attention to the beds and their closed draperies. Instead, he stared at the person standing in the moonlight, silver catching her dark hair and making it shine like water. She wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, and as Wood wobbled toward her on knees that suddenly seemed too shaky to be of use, she put out an arm and grabbed his shirt.

"I’ve been waiting," she whispered, her mouth an inch from his. She tilted her head to kiss him…

*~*~*

"Oliver!"

Wood leaped up in bed, suddenly and fully awake. The shock stopped his dream—he hadn’t touched the mystery girl—he hadn’t even seen her face. Red with embarrassment and more than a little disappointment, he pulled open the draperies surrounding his bed. He stared with surprise at two identical redheads, taller than he, and a short, skinny little boy with untidy black hair.

"What’s all this, then?" he croaked, trying to sound as if nothing was wrong. In fact, the movement of drawing aside the curtain had made him all too aware of the heat that had gathered in his groin during his sleep. He was hard, he couldn’t help it, and he didn’t want the Weasley twins or Harry Potter to know this.

"Wood, I’d have thought more of you, old boy," said one of the twins—this early in the morning Wood couldn’t be bothered with the task of telling them apart. "Don’t you know what today is?"

Little Harry Potter looked a bit anxious, and Wood racked his brain, trying to figure out what today was and why he should be awakened by the boys of his team. But the image of the naked girl, her skin bathed in moonlight and her fist tangled in his shirt was all that came to mind.

"I give up," he said. "What day is it?"

"Your bloody birthday!" said a new voice, a definitely female one. Around the corner of the bedpost trooped three girls, all laden with parcels. They pulled back all the bedcurtains, letting light flood into the huge four-poster. Wood winced at the light, blinked, and let out an oof! as all three girls dumped their armloads onto his bed and then jumped onto the blankets themselves.

"Doesn’t even remember his own birthday," Angelina said, shaking her head in mock-dismay. "Been hit in the head one too many times with a Bludger."

"Been knocked off his broom one too many times, too," Katie put in.

"Come off it," Wood said, turning red.

"Well, it’s not every day Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain turns eighteen, is it?" Fred said, thrusting a white cardboard parcel into Wood’s arms. "Open this first; it’s your cake. Then we can eat while you open the rest of your presents."

"Honestly!" Alicia suddenly grabbed the package from Wood and raised a dark eyebrow at the twins. "Look at him, he’s still half-asleep. I bet you bloody well frightened him half to death when you woke him up."

Fred and George stuffed their hands into their pockets and shrugged their shoulders, trying to look innocent. "You didn’t hear any fireworks, did you?" George asked. "No practical jokes? Come off it, we were being nice!"

"For us," Fred added.

Alicia rolled her eyes and made a face at them. "At least let the poor man use the john before you start in on him. It’s still early." She tugged at Wood’s arm, her hand warm. "Go on—go wash your face and then come back and we’ll start the party."

"Sure," Wood said, thanking his lucky stars for this break. He grabbed for some clothes he’d negligently tossed beside the bed the night before, and tried to casually hide the bulge in his pajamas as he raced for the washroom.

Inside, he took a deep breath. It was Saturday, which meant no classes. They were supposed to have Quidditch practice, though. Wood pulled a face and then chuckled weakly. Glad there was no one else in the washroom, he took a biting cold shower (which relieved the pressure in his groin) and washed his face five or six times in cold water. The image of the girl was starting to recede, banished by the familiar voices of his team from the other room and the routine of showering. He stuck a toothbrush in his mouth and combed his hair while the toothbrush brushed his teeth for him with chocolate-mint toothpaste.

He spat, the toothpaste foam hitting the sink and turning into all colors of the rainbow. Eyeing himself in the mirror, Wood decided that he looked normal. He returned to his friends.

"My birthday, eh?" he said, feeling more awake. He barely remembered the dream, and it slowly slid to the back of his mind in the presence of his team, the promise of cake, and the pile of presents sitting on his bed. "I was worrying about next week’s game against Ravenclaw; I completely forgot."

"Well, your parents didn’t, and neither did we," George said. Wood climbed onto the foot of his bed, which groaned under the weight of seven people.

"Did somebody mention cake?" Wood asked, and everyone laughed. Alicia handed him back the white cardboard box, and he opened it to find a huge triple-layer chocolate-and-orange cake that smelled divine. In frosting that kept changing colors, Wood read the words, "Happy birthday to our favorite Quidditch Captain!" Tethered to the middle of the cake by a short orange cord was a wizard in Gryffindor Quidditch robes, all made of frosting, flying a frosting broomstick in circles.

"Had it made special by Honeydukes," Fred said. "Took ‘em several tries to get it right."

"Dare I ask what happened to the castoffs?" Angelina said.

"Oh, nothing." Fred and George licked their lips.

"Thanks, team," Wood said.

"Here now, set it down." Katie moved aside so he could take the cake from the box and place it on his bedspread.

"Sit back," Alicia said, and she flicked her wand over the cake and muttered something under her breath. Eighteen red-and-gold candles appeared on its surface, burning brightly. "All right, Oliver? Blow ‘em out!"

Wood took a deep breath and blew. The candles howled, sang him an ultra-quick version of the ‘Happy Birthday’ song, and then fizzled out. Alicia tapped her wand against one of them, and they all disappeared again.

Fred and George handed around plates and spoons they’d filched from the kitchens, and everyone ate until they were so full of chocolate that they felt they’d be sick if they ate another mouthful. During this time, Wood opened his presents. His parents had sent him a new scarf for the approaching winter weather, some new clothes and a set of dress robes in Gryffindor scarlet. In a small golden envelope, he found a gift certificate for his first adult wand from Ollivanders. The team had pooled their resources and bought him some new Quidditch elbow pads to replace the ones he’d mangled in the last game by falling off his broomstick. They also presented him with a wizard photograph of the whole team smiling and waving, clutching their broomsticks, with the Gryffindor banner behind them. Wood remembered when that picture had been taken—it was after they’d won the first game of last season, when he’d hoped Gryffindor would take the Quidditch cup for the first time in years. It hadn’t happened, due to Harry’s injury, but Wood was sure that this year they had it in the bag. The Quidditch Cup was as good as theirs.

"Thanks, you lot," he said. "This is a great birthday."

Alicia and Katie, seated on either side of him, both grabbed him round the neck and hugged him impulsively. Wood blushed scarlet.

"Ah, young Quidditch Captain, the day has hardly begun," Fred said. "We have one more gift for you." He held up Madam Hooch’s field schedule, on which the Quidditch teams penciled in their reserved practice times. Usually practice lasted no more than two or three hours, but Fred tapped the square that demarcated today’s date. The entire thing was filled with the word "Gryffindor."

"We, ah, took the liberty of reserving the field for the entire day," George said.

Wood let out a crow of triumph. "All right, team! This is absolutely great! I’d like to see anybody try to come near us when we play ‘em now! Who else could possibly think of practicing for an entire day?"

"No one’s as crazy as you are," Alicia said, sliding off his bed with a small smile. "The idea wouldn’t even come to mind."

*~*~*

Sore and aching, but still happy, Wood found himself stumbling up the left-hand staircase toward his dormitory and washroom after dinner, so blinded by weariness that he could hardly move. His team looked every bit as bad, but they wished him good night and happy birthday without spite.

Mail had arrived that day, but as they hadn’t stopped by the Great Hall for breakfast (too full of birthday cake) Wood’s owl hadn’t been able to deliver it to him. Instead, he found it waiting on his bed when he returned to his dormitory. There were a couple of birthday cards from friends, a small package containing three chocolate frogs and a note from one of his year-mates, and an official school owl-memo from…

Wood sat down quickly, tearing the letter open with shaking hands and mentally running over the handful of things he’d done in the past week that he could be called to task for.

Recruiters, coming to Hogwarts! Wood felt a second wind of energy burst through his body. Without another thought he dropped his broomstick and dirty uniform on his bed and vaulted out of the room. He dashed up a flight of stairs and entered the sixth-year dormitory, where Fred and George Weasley were just pulling off their shoes and grumbling about a line for the showers and bathtubs.

"Recruiters!" Wood crowed.

"What’s he on about now?" George said, sinking onto his bed.

"You can’t say we weren’t good sports for your birthday, now," Fred said. "What’s it this time?"

Instead of answering, Wood pushed the letter into Fred’s hand. Fred scanned it, jumped up, and swore. George grabbed it away from his twin and read it, then looked up at Wood. "This some sort of joke?"

"No joke. Scouts, coming to Hogwarts!"

"You’ve got to tell the girls about this, Wood."

"I am, I am." Wood snatched his letter back and raced down the stairs to the common room, then up again, realizing that he didn’t know which floor the girls slept on. Just because the sixth-year boys slept on the third floor didn’t mean the sixth-year girls did.

Wood poked his head into the common room. Harry’s friend Hermione was in the corner, poring over a very moldy old book. "You," he said. She looked up and very casually leaned over her book so he couldn’t see what she’d been reading.

"What? I don’t know where Harry is."

"Can you tell me where sixth-year girls sleep?" he asked. "I’ve got to tell my team something."

"Sixth floor," Hermione said, frowning. "But I don’t think you can—"

Wood had disappeared.

He raced back up the stairs, panting, his letter crinkled in his hand. He remembered to knock before bursting into the dormitory. Six beds, three on each side of the room, greeted his seeking eyes. The room looked oddly familiar, but Wood didn’t take the time to puzzle this out. Maggie Lundy, a blonde with exceedingly long legs, was eyeing him warily.

"You’re not supposed to be here," she said.

"I have to tell my team some news," he said. "Where are they?"

"Here, Oliver," came a muffled voice, and a bed near him moved. The curtains were drawn back to reveal Katie and Angelina already in their pajamas, their hair tied back. Books were spread out all across the bed. "You know you’re not supposed to be up here after dark."

"Read this," Wood said, thrusting the paper at them. They took it, one towhead and one dark head bent close together over the paper. Then—

"Holy fuck, Oliver, is this for real?"

He grinned a little wildly. "It’s for real. But…where’s Alicia?"

"Still in the washroom. D’you want me to—"

But he had dashed across the room already and was opening the door to the washroom. Katie rolled her eyes.

"Three…two…one…" Angelina whispered, and at that exact moment they heard Alicia scream. They laughed and closed the curtains around the bed again.

Wood stepped into the washroom, holding his letter high. He glanced around the room, steam making it difficult to see. Two showers were running, though behind the curtains he could see nothing. But Alicia wasn’t in the shower. She was bent over the sink, washing her face. Wood waited, and when she straightened two seconds later she caught sight of him in the mirror and screamed.

Wood jumped, she jumped and whirled around, and they stared at each other in shock. Alicia’s eyes darkened. "Oliver, you’d better have a bloody good explanation or else…"

"Read," he said, thrusting the letter at her. She took it and scanned its contents, her eyes growing wide.

"Bloody hell…" she said. "Oliver, this is great!"

He grinned, watching her read. She shifted, and a beam of light from the lamps hit her shoulder, making the smooth brown skin glow. Surprise hit Wood in the stomach like a Bludger as, surrounded by steam from the showers and wearing her pajamas instead of black robes or Quidditch uniform, Alicia suddenly looked…pretty. Not just pretty, even, but beautiful. And something else, something that made his stomach jump like he’d just eaten a wizard cracker.

"Oliver?"

He blinked and suddenly saw her watching him with concern written in her eyes. She stepped forward and put a damp hand against his forehead. "Are you okay?"

Wood swallowed and backed away from her touch. "Er…yeah. Just…I guess…tired. Yeah. Tired from…practice."

"Oh. Okay." She didn’t look convinced, and Wood had to admit that he hadn’t been acting terribly convincing. "Look, thanks for the news. This is great!" She eyed him for a moment. "Come here," she said suddenly. "I have one more birthday present for you."

She took him by the hand and led him out of the washroom. Maggie was sprawled across a bed wearing extremely short cotton shorts and a tight tank top. She glared at them as they passed. "He’s not supposed to be here," she told Alicia. "We’ll get points taken if McGonagall decides to come up for an inspection."

"She never inspects anything," Alicia said, and Wood sensed a note of hostility in her voice. "Besides, he’s leaving in a minute." She took her hand away from his, and Wood felt suddenly cold.

"Here." She held out something tiny, and Wood let it fall into his palm. It was a four-leaf clover, but it was…hard.

"Frozen forever," Alicia said, smiling. "McGonagall taught me the spell a few weeks ago. It’s a half-transfiguration, so it’s half-clover, half-glass. I wasn’t sure why I’d done it, but now I understand." She smiled at him again, and for some odd reason Wood felt his knees go weak. "It’s for luck—for the scouts."

He smiled. "Thanks," he said, not knowing what else to say. "I—thanks."

She grinned again, then suddenly pushed him. "Go on, get out of here before somebody reports you! Go!"

"I’m going, I’m going." He nipped out of the room and walked back down the stairs, his letter clasped in one hand and the tiny shamrock clasped in the other. He didn’t notice the foolish smile on his own face.

*~*~*

Wood soared around the golden hoops on his end of the Quidditch pitch, waiting for the action to return to him. The Weasley twins had conscripted their little brother to help them during practices sometimes so that they could play four-on-four. Ron was more than willing, and he alternated between playing Keeper for the other side and acting as a Chaser on Wood’s side. Today he was playing Keeper, and not doing a bad job of it. The twins were fairly evenly matched, playing one on each side, and had a tough time not making a game of it as they lobbed Bludgers at each other. Harry was playing Chaser, as he really didn’t need any practice catching the Snitch, and it was clear that Chaser was certainly not his calling. He and Katie Bell were on Wood’s side, Angelina and Alicia on Ron’s.

At the moment, Katie kept lobbing the Quaffle at Ron’s head, and he kept ducking and letting her score. Then Harry would sweep down on his Nimbus Two Thousand and catch the Quaffle, passing it back to Katie so she could deal Ron another blow. Angelina and Alicia were too busy laughing themselves silly at the terrified look on Ron’s face to try and stop them.

"Hey!" Wood hollered, cupping his hand around his mouth. "Play some Quidditch, why don’t you?"

He saw that Alicia, at least, had heard him, and she leaned across to her teammate to whisper something in Angelina’s ear. She nodded, and they zoomed off in different directions. Angelina went up to whisper something to Fred, who was playing Beater on her side, and Alicia flew low under Ron’s hoops. Fred nodded, grinning, and Wood swallowed. Whatever they were planning wouldn’t be nice, he knew.

The next time Katie threw the Quaffle through Ron’s hoops, Alicia swept in before Harry and caught it. She took off for the other side of the field, but Harry blocked her with his faster broom. Quick as a wink, Angelina blocked Harry and he paused, obviously not wanting to shoulder her out of the way.

That second was all Alicia needed to dart to the side and race toward Wood, who quickly got in position in front of his hoops. "Stop being such a gentleman!" she hollered over her shoulder, to the sounds of Katie and Angelina’s laughter.

Fred had maneuvered George and their Bludger-fight close to Wood’s hoops, and now Bludgers were flying dangerously through the air, whistling close to Wood and even bouncing off the golden hoops occasionally. He cursed just as Alicia plunged into the melee, Quaffle held tightly under one arm. Katie, Harry, and Angelina were just behind her. She dodged up and Wood followed her. She dodged left, swerving out of the path of a Bludger, and Wood dodged with her. Katie was shouldering up, her hand outstretched to swipe the Quaffle from Alicia’s grasp. Just before she reached it, Alicia batted the ball to Angelina, and Wood flew to cover her. But, quick as lightning, she batted the Quaffle back to Alicia, and the movement was too fluid and too smooth for Wood to quite catch. Alicia had the Quaffle through the third hoop and was swooping down to catch it before Wood had fully turned around.

"Is that better?" she asked sweetly, tossing the ball into the air and catching it again. She smiled, something she rarely did on the field, and Wood felt those caterpillars again in his stomach.

"Er…" he said, which sent all three girls into fits again. Alicia slapped five with Angelina, they gave up the Quaffle to Harry, and the action flew back down the field, Alicia effortlessly dodging a Bludger that George had batted in her direction.

"See, Harry," Fred said conversationally, swatting the other Bludger into the pack of Chasers, "you can’t be all gentlemanly when you’re on a broomstick."

"Yeah," George agreed, beating a Bludger toward his brother. "I mean, girls’ll take every advantage of us they can get." As he spoke, Angelina swiped the Quaffle from Harry and the pack of people turned back toward Wood. Fred and George kept with them, slamming Bludgers into people’s arms and legs every once in a while.

"So," George continued, "you can’t just let them win because you’re too nice to hit them once in a while." He lobbed a Bludger in Alicia’s direction. She dodged it narrowly and purposefully swerved to the side, slamming her shoulder into his midsection.

"That looked like it hurt, mate," Fred said sweetly.

"See what we mean?" George said, shaking his head and rubbing his side. "Every advantage they can get."

As the boys spoke words of wisdom, Angelina scored again, and then Alicia scored before Katie regained control of the Quaffle and raced back toward Ron, who gulped. Wood felt distinctly disgruntled that the girls were running circles around him today, but another part of him felt possessive pride that his team was so spectacular. Yes, he decided, just let the scouts see the Gryffindor team now. They’d be stunned speechless…

Just then, Wood saw Alicia break away from the pack and tear after George, who streaked away from her. She caught up with him in a matter of seconds and slammed hard into him, knocking him out of the pitch with the force of the blow. Then, with her arm, she slammed the Bludger heading for her out toward him. Wood shook his head. They still needed work on their team skills.

*~*~*

Wood slept through History of Magic, as usual. He hadn’t been getting much sleep, what with his distracting dreams and worry over the coming recruiters. He desperately wanted to get signed to a regional team—one didn’t make it directly to the national team, but started locally. And he wasn’t much of a student, wasn’t much of anything really, except a Quidditch player. Everyone would agree that he was nice, friendly, and good at Quidditch. After that, not much could be said about Oliver Wood. And these recruiters were his one chance at playing professionally, at doing what he loved for a living.

The dreams weren’t helping, either. Every time he drifted off to sleep he saw her again, the damn perfect girl bathed in moonlight, every inch of her skin just begging to be touched. He always woke up hard and throbbing, but in his dreams, he never touched her. She never touched him. He’d wake just before her lips reached his, or before his outstretched hand could connect with her skin. It was infuriatingly unfair, and also unnerving. Unnerving because he knew her. He knew he knew her, that she had to be a student at the school, maybe even in his own House, and if he could just see her face he’d know for sure. But, just as he never could touch her, he never saw her face.

And then there were the strange new feelings Wood felt whenever Alicia was around, and this bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He thought of her as a friend and a teammate, a wonderful addition to his team. But now…

At the end of class, Wood roused enough to shove his books in his bag and march toward the dungeons for his next class—Advanced Potions with Snape. In the cold subterranean room he threw his books on a desk near the back and drew out a piece of parchment, scribbling notes to tell his team during their next practice.

Wood was so involved in his notes that he didn’t notice the door creak open or the Potions Master sweep into the dungeon. Snape snatched the parchment away from him without pausing, glanced at it, and threw it into the bin next to his desk without a word. He turned and faced the class. "Five points from Gryffindor, Wood, for allowing a game to interfere with your schoolwork."

Marcus Flint turned around and sneered at Wood, showing all of his troll-like teeth. Wood sneered back, but he knew the affect wasn’t the same without all those huge crooked yellow teeth gleaming in the dim light of the dungeon. He struggled to pay attention throughout the entire lesson, but it was sheer torture. His mind kept returning to his three distractions—the dream, the scouts, and Alicia. He decided that the Gryffindor Quidditch team would have a long, intense practice that evening. Maybe if he tired himself out, he’d be able to sleep.