Quidditch (And Other Distractions)

Halloween approached, and with it growing excitement about the coming Quidditch recruiters. They would be at Hogwarts a week after the Halloween feast, and the entire school was buzzing with the thrill of getting to meet real scouts from real Quidditch teams.

Alicia stood in the washroom she shared with the other sixth-year girls, yanking a Madam Cornelia’s Qwik-Dri Hairbrush through her dripping hair. Her own brush had gone missing two days ago (she thought the Weasley twins might have had something to do with the disappearance) and so she’d been borrowing Katie’s. She’d have to buy a new one on the next trip to Hogsmeade; she wouldn’t trust her old brush whenever it showed up again. Not with the twins’ little vendetta against her. Apparently they’d taken it as an act of war when she’d knocked George almost out of the sky the other day—their tricks and pranks on her, usually one or two a week, had increased tenfold.

Wood had, of course, insisted on practice even though toady was Halloween. They’d skipped the late-afternoon study hour and gone out to the Quidditch field, since the twins had flat-out refused to practice after the feast.

They had a point, Alicia thought to herself as she pulled her now-dry hair back into a tight ponytail. Wood had been like a man possessed lately, ever since the notice about the scouts. There wasn’t a free hour but they were out on the field or in the locker room going over strategy. Alicia herself thought it was amusing, but the twins and the other Chasers obviously were tiring of Wood’s obsession.

Something would have to be done about Wood, Alicia knew. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck with her towel, then left the washroom and dug through her chest of clothes for a clean uniform. She’d pitched her muddy Quidditch robes over a chair before she showered, and now she saw that they were gone along with Angelina’s and Katie’s. Alicia’s family didn’t have a house-elf, and she was constantly amazed, while at school, at their vigilance.

"Allie!" Katie wailed from two beds over. "I don’t have any clean socks!"

Alicia tossed her a pair as she wiggled into a clean gray skirt. "Blech," she said, rolling it up to expose more than her kneecaps. "I’ll be glad to get out of here simply because of the uniform."

"Know what you mean," Angelina said, pulling her sweater over her head and straightening her tie. "Bloody thing!" She stumbled over one of Katie’s shoes and gave it a vicious kick across the room.

Alicia stepped into her own shoes quickly and started buttoning her white shirt with one hand as she glanced at the clock by Katie’s bedside. "Almost fashionably late," it read.

Katie hastily divided her hair into three strands and plaited them together, tying the end with a black satin ribbon. "I. Hate. This!" she wailed, hopping on her right foot as she stuck her left foot in Alicia’s sock and pulled it up her leg. "When that stupid git decides to become human for a day, let me know. Until then…I quit! I absolutely quit!" She buckled her shoe and pulled on the other sock.

"No you don’t, darling, and you know it." Angelina reached up and dropped a businesslike kiss on Katie’s head.

"We’re not late yet," Alicia said, yanking on her black robe and fastening the clip at her chest. She grabbed her black hat, stuffed her wand in her sleeve, and started for the door.

"Hold up there, Al. We’re coming!" Angelina struggled into her robe, grabbed her hat and wand, and ran for Alicia, closely followed by Katie. They pounded down the spiraling staircase into the deserted common room, through the portrait hole, and down the corridors toward the Great Hall. They caught up with the Weasley twins, also running, on the second staircase, and Wood and Harry right before they reached the Great Hall.

Gasping for breath, the Gryffindor Quidditch team slipped through the doors and slid into their usual places at the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore stood up and raised his glass to begin the feast.

"Bloody good timing," George said, draining his goblet of pumpkin juice and reaching for the pitcher to refill it.

Alicia leaned against Katie and loosened her tie so she could breathe better. "I hate you, Oliver Wood," she said, glaring at the boy to her left.

He looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Alicia figured this could have been because Fred and George Weasley were snickering from the other side of the table.

"Really?" Angelina asked hopefully.

"No," Alicia said, but then she moved away from Katie and closed the distance between herself and Wood, stopping with her nose less than an inch from his. He looked positively terrified, and she had to bite back a satisfied smile. "But you’d best cool it with this insane schedule, captain, or else you’ll have a full mutiny on your hands."

Wood gulped as she backed away and turned her attention to the feast. Harry, sitting several seats away with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, snickered. The other two third-years giggled, and Wood went red.

"Every chance they get," George said to Harry, nodding toward the Chasers. "See?"

"We were right," Fred said, his mouth full of potato. "Just watch it. They’re dangerous. OUCH!" He yelped and grabbed for his knee under the table. Katie examined her nails, smiling in satisfaction.

After the feast they headed back to Gryffindor Tower in a big bunch, the six older Quidditch players. They always moved as a cohesive group, even when they were upset with each other. There wasn’t much that could tear them apart. Harry was welcome to share that with them, but it seemed he preferred the company of his year-mates most of the time, which was fine with the rest of the team. They all felt like older brothers and sisters to their young Seeker, and would have felt decidedly awkward tossing around some of their racier comments in his presence.

"You don’t really hate me, do you?" Wood asked hesitantly as they rounded the last corner.

"No," Alicia said, chuckling. All she wanted to do was peel off her robe and shoes and stretch out in front of the fire. She glanced up at Wood’s face, and to her surprise she saw something that looked very much like intense relief pass over his features. It was gone before she could be completely sure, but it made her feel funny anyway. She glanced away, uncomfortable, and suddenly realized that they were standing at the back of a crowd of people. Nobody seemed to be going into the common room.

"What’s this all about, then?" Wood asked, peering over the heads of the rest of the House with his greater height.

"Somebody get Professor Dumbledore…quick!" someone said.

Ten minutes later Alicia found herself back in the Great Hall, clustered in the middle of a tight knot of Gryffindors. Wood, looking paler than usual, had placed an absent hand on her shoulder and was watching Harry protectively.

"He’s fine, Oliver," she said, placing a hand over his on her shoulder. He blinked, as if coming swiftly back to the present, and colored. He removed his hand from her shoulder, muttered a quick, "sorry," and turned away. Alicia swore under her breath and grabbed the back of his robe, spinning him around again.

"Calm down," she said severely. "Dumbledore’s protecting him. Your Seeker is going to be just fine."

"Yeah." He sighed. "I know. But the scouts…the cup…"

"It’s in the bag," Alicia assured him.

"And so should you be," Katie said, throwing purple sleeping bags at them. "We’re staying here tonight."

"And Bighead Boy’ll have our necks if we don’t shove off," Fred said sulkily, sneering at Percy’s back. The six older Quidditch players retreated to a shadowy corner where they could lie awake and not bother anybody. They spread out their sleeping bags in a ragged line and removed their robes, wadding them up to use as pillows. They threw their shoes, ties, socks and sweaters in a pile, leaving on only their gray skirts and trousers and their white button-down shirts. Then they crawled into their sleeping bags, Wood scanning the hall for a glimpse of Harry. Alicia pointed him out, huddled along the opposite wall with Ron and Hermione.

"The Musketeers are just fine," she said, settling next to him in her sleeping bag. "Stop worrying."

"Take advantage of this situation," Fred said, peering over Alicia’s back at Wood. He wiggled his eyebrows in a comically suggestive manner. "We’re not in separate dormitories anymore…"

"…there are no teachers around…" George called from the opposite end of the line of sleeping bags.

"And your dear brother Percy is watching us like a hawk," Alicia snapped.

Fred shrugged and turned to Katie. "I’m willing to risk it," he said. "Want to snog?"

"I’d sooner snog a flobberworm," she said, elbowing his side and making him grunt.

"Ouch," George said. "Sorry, brother, looks like you just got stung." He smiled delightedly.

"Can’t blame a bloke for trying," Fred said, sighing.

"Lights are going out now!" Percy said sharply. Both twins rolled their eyes and Alicia stifled a laugh. She glanced down the line of her teammates just as the lights went out, turning the hall black for a long moment until her eyes got used to the starlight of the bewitched ceiling. George was at the very end, and then Alicia and Katie, then Fred, then Alicia herself, and finally Wood. She turned to look at him and saw that he hadn’t been paying any attention to the conversation. Instead he was lying on his back, his hands behind his head, and stared up at the starry ceiling.

Alicia reached out with a loose fist and knocked her knuckles against his jaw. "Knut for your thoughts?"

He reached out his hand. She dug in her pocket, extracted a small bronze coin, and flipped it to him. He closed his hand around it and turned his head to look at her. Alicia worked the hairband out of her hair as she waited for him to talk.

"I’d give anything to be part of a real Quidditch team," he said.

Alicia shook out her hair, ran a hand through it, and lay down again. She was conscious of Wood’s eyes on her, and for the first time since his birthday she believed she actually had his whole attention. Impulsively, she reached over and kissed his forehead, a friendly gesture she often shared with her fellow Chasers. Wood blinked and touched the spot she had kissed.

"You’ll make it, Oliver," she said, snuggling into her sleeping bag and closing her eyes. "I know it."

"How do you know?"

"I’m good at Divination, remember?" she said. "Trust me."

But despite her reassurances, it was a long time until Wood slept that night.

*~*~*

The teachers returned to the Great Hall sometime around three the next morning, all looking tense and sour. Sirius Black had not been found. All except Snape rooted around the hall until they found Harry, making sure he was still there, still safe.

Dumbledore entered the Great Hall last, looking very tired indeed. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then motioned the heads of houses to him. "Check your House Lists," he said. "Make sure every student is present and accounted for."

The professors strolled up and down the rows and piles of sleeping students, checking off names on their softly-glowing parchments whenever they found one from their respective Houses. McGonagall paused at three sleeping shapes and checked off Ron, Hermione, and Harry. She was almost done with her list—only twelve or so more students to find. She found one of the O’Connor twins sleeping underneath a Ravenclaw sixth-year and made a note to take five points from Gryffindor for the break of conduct.

Only six more to find, she scoured the Great Hall with keen eyes. But try as she might, she could not find the rest of her Quidditch team.

"I’d suggest looking in the darkest corner, Professor," Snape said, his voice lumpy like curdled milk. He smiled at her, more of a smirk than a true smile, and left.

McGonagall strode over to the corner and shook her head as she saw most of her Quidditch team asleep—the Weasley twins snoring—sprawled across each other. George had rolled a little away from the group in his sleep, and had one arm thrown across his eyes. Katie Bell’s arm was thrown over Angelina Johnson’s middle and her face was pressed against her shoulder. Fred Weasley slept on his stomach, drooling slightly, his short red hair a mess. Alicia Spinnet slept quietly on her back, one arm curling above her head, and Oliver Wood was curled up on his side, an arm snaked around her waist.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows but said nothing and made no more marks on her parchment save to mark that her Quidditch team had been found. Unlike the O’Connor twin, this could have all been innocent. And fear would make such a strong, exclusive group like the Gryffindor Quidditch team turn inward…turn toward each other. She shook her head, a small, amused smile quirking the corners of her wrinkled mouth, and walked away.

*~*~*

"The bloke’s getting insufferable," Fred said, collapsing onto a bench in the Gryffindor locker room. "Ever since that blasted letter arrived, he’s been nothing but tense."

"Getting insufferable?" Fred said. "He reached insufferable a long time ago. He’s a menace to himself and others. Somebody has to do something."

The girls glanced at each other. "We know," Katie said. "And we agree. It'll have to be one of us--we can't risk anyone outside the team finding out how mad he's gone."

"Right," George said firmly. "Can't let anyone know our possessed captain is our weak spot."

"Why isn’t Harry in on this?" Angelina asked. "He has a right to know."

"Too young," Fred said. "The boy’s the age of our little brother. Far too young to understand these things…"

"Or at least too young for us to know he knows about these things," George said. "You know how it is."

"He’s thirteen," Alicia argued.

"And you’re sixteen. There’s a difference."

"So…who’s it to be?" Fred asked.

Alicia glanced at the other two girls. "Me, I guess."

"I don’t know if that’s such a good idea," Katie said. "I mean, Angelina and I…well, we can keep it businesslike, you know? We understand that it’s all for the team and it’s nothing more than that. But you…"

"But it’ll cause complications between you two," Alicia argued, "and we can’t risk that. No. It’s got to be me."

The other two girls looked unconvinced, but Alicia smiled. "It’ll be okay," she said. "I promise."

"As long as you’re sure," Angelina said, but she looked relieved.

"Well, since that’s settled…"

The group broke up, scattering to their respective corners of the locker room to wait for their Keeper and Seeker to join them.

Ten minutes later Wood showed up, Harry in tow. "Is this a mutiny?" he demanded. "Why are you here early? Usually I have to drag you all out of bed…"

Fred and George glanced at the girls’ side of the locker room, and Alicia emerged, half-changed into her Quidditch robes. She was wearing the protective pants, her knee pads, and her shoes, and her robes were hanging open. On top she wore no shirt, simply a red sports bra. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She grasped Wood’s hand and pulled him away toward a far corner of the locker room, away from prying eyes.

"What’s going on?" Harry asked curiously, peering after them.

"Nothing to concern yourself with, kid," Angelina said firmly. She took hold of Harry’s shoulder and steered him away. "Let’s give ‘em a minute." The rest of the team left the locker room and sprawled on the grass just outside the Quidditch pitch. It was early yet, and there were no spectators. The sky was blue, the grass damp from previous rainfall, and a light, cool breeze was blowing. Perfect conditions for a game.

"Lovely day for Quidditch," Fred said, strolling casually in front of the door.

"Sure, and Oliver'll be ready to play in a minute, too," his twin said.

"Wager it'll take more than five minutes," Fred replied.

"Would someone tell me what's going on?" Harry demanded.

Back in the locker room, Wood was feeling extremely confused and nervous as Alicia stopped him in the farthest corner from the door and extinguished all of the lamps near them with her wand.

"What’s going on?" he asked nervously. "We have a game in an hour…"

"Over an hour, Oliver, and calm down," she said. "It’s nothing personal—please remember that. But you need to calm down, and this is the only way to make you."

"Calm down!" Wood nearly squeaked. "There will be recruits from real Quidditch teams out there in an hour—"

"Over an hour," Alicia said absently, fastening the front of her robes.

"—and you’re telling me to calm down? Hey! What are you doing?" He gulped and tried to back away from her approaching figure, but he was backed against a row of lockers and had nowhere to go.

"Calming you down," she said matter-of-factly. "Please don’t talk, Oliver, you’re not helping."

"Bloody right I’m not helping, what do you think you’re doing?"

"If you were paying any attention to me at all," she said, placing her hands lightly on his waist, "you would have realized I already answered that question. Don’t make me fight you."

"Fight me? I’m a year older than you, I’m bigger, and you wouldn’t stand a chance. No offense, of course. Now—"

Wood froze. Not on purpose, but Alicia had closed the distance between them and pressed her warm mouth against his.

The first thing that registered in his mind was shock. Wood drew a complete blank. He couldn't think, couldn't move, as Alicia stepped closer to him, her hands tightening on his waist. She nipped gently at his lower lip, and with a completely involuntary noise Wood opened his mouth to her seeking tongue. It was like drinking liquid fire, he thought fuzzily, as his body shook for a half-second and he relaxed against the lockers, Alicia's arms pressing him back gently. He surrendered to the sensation, tension melting from his limbs without his knowledge as he responded to her kiss.

Slowly, Alicia broke away from him. She was smiling gently, feeling how he had loosened in her grasp.

"Oliver." He felt pressure against his forehead, and opened his eyes to see a blurry version of Alicia’s face. She’d bumped her forehead against his. Now she drew away. He stumbled; she grabbed his arms and helped steady him.

"There now," she said. "Go put on your uniform—you feel better now, don’t you?"

Wood opened his mouth to argue with her, and shut it again. He did feel better. He felt…he felt as if all the tension he’d been carrying with him since receiving the letter from Madam Hooch had melted away. He felt awake, alert, not drowsy at all. In fact, he felt in perfect shape for playing a killer game of Quidditch.

"I…yes," he said, going red.

"Good." Alicia looked satisfied. She flashed him her usual friendly smile and ruffled his hair. "Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go brush my teeth."

*~*~*

Alicia opened the door to the locker room and stuck her head out, toothbrush lodged firmly in her mouth. She smelled like chocolate-mint toothpaste. The twins leaped to their feet.

"Lost the bet, dear brother," George said. "That was less than five minutes."

"We didn’t wager anything," Fred reminded him.

Alicia took the toothbrush from her mouth and spat on the ground. "You two are sick," she said, and they shrugged.

"He all right?" Angelina asked.

"Fine." Alicia grinned, obviously pleased with herself, and returned the toothbrush to her mouth.

"Are you all right?" Katie asked, and Alicia nodded. She opened the door all the way and let them back into the locker room.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. Alicia chuckled and ruffled his messy hair.

"Nuffink," she said around a mouthful of toothpaste foam. "Jusht change, ‘kay?"

He sighed, obviously resigned to being kept in the dark by his older teammates, and turned to find his locker on the boys’ side of the room.

Wood emerged from the shadows about five minutes later, dressed in his Quidditch robes and carrying the last of his protective pads. Fred and George hid grins and the girls all stifled giggles, but managed to keep straight faces as they assembled for their pre-game pep talk. Wood paced in front of them, holding his broom, but the tic in his forehead that George swore he’d seen that morning was now gone (if it had been there at all) and his milk-pale skin was calm and no longer inflamed. He looked at them all with eyes that held no trace of demonic possession.

"We’ve trained hard for this moment," he said. "We’ll be fine. Potter—don’t go for the Snitch until the scouts have seen what the rest of the team can do. Unless, of course, you have to. Angelina, have you corrected that tilt in your broom?"

She nodded. "All fixed, Oliver."

"All right then—we can’t be beaten today, team! Let’s go out there and prove it!"

They all followed him out the doors and out to the pitch, whispering to themselves.

"Way to go!" Fred said, clapping Alicia on the back. "That was the calmest pep talk we’ve ever had from him!"

"It’s a gift," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Then she mounted her broomstick and followed Wood into the air.

If Wood was afraid at all that there would be awkwardness between himself and Alicia while on the Quidditch pitch, he was mistaken. She played like always, her attention centering on the Quaffle, the edges of her concentration constantly searching for Bludgers. Ravenclaw didn’t stand a chance. They didn’t score any points on Wood, and the sight of the three Gryffindor Chasers bearing down on their Keeper seemed to fill him with fear just as it did Ron Weasley. They clobbered the Ravenclaw team, two hundred to zero, and Wood couldn’t help but cast several glances toward the special box holding the twelve recruiters once the results of the game were announced. They were all comparing notes, speaking to each other and occasionally peering down to the field where the players were huddled in two groups, one in red and one in blue.

All three Chasers attacked Wood at the same time, surrounding him in a powerful hug that nearly throttled him, all shrieking wildly. He laughed breathlessly, feeling just as elated, as a kiss landed somewhere near his mouth. He couldn’t tell who had placed it there, but he had his hopes.

"Don’t we get congratulated too?" George asked sulkily, and the girls broke away from Wood (which gave him a chance to breathe) and went to hug the other members of the team. Alicia kissed George’s cheek and then pulled him into a headlock, rubbing his head with her knuckles as he yelled and tried to break free. Angelina jumped into Fred’s arms, nearly unbalancing him, and hugged him fiercely. Katie grabbed Harry and actually picked him up off the ground as she caught him in a bear hug. He turned bright red and held very still until the twins rescued him, hoisting him onto their shoulders and carrying him off to the locker room, the girls and Wood trailing behind.

*~*~*

Wood stared out the window, the rest of the seventh-year boys asleep in their beds behind him. He couldn’t sleep; nerves still held him captive. They’d played a monumental game, Quidditch at its absolute best. The Ravenclaw team was exceptional, and they’d put up a hard fight. It had been neck and neck for ages, one team scoring a goal and then the other team drawing even again. It was a clean game, too, something Wood was grateful for. He hated playing against Slytherin because of all the underhanded tactics that team continually used. Wood was glad that the first game the recruiters had seen was a fair one.

He’d warned Harry not to catch the Snitch this time until the recruiters had a good look at what all the players could do. Little Harry was as good as his word—he’d conned the Ravenclaw Seeker into following him in wild broom acrobatics across the field several times, making the spectators ooh and ahh, but he hadn’t actually caught the Snitch until the game had gone on for well over an hour and it was obvious that the recruits had seen the Gryffindor team at its best.

Wood smiled to himself and stared out into the night. Not even the disturbing rumors of the Chamber of Secrets being reopened could dampen his mood. He felt like nothing could ruin his high spirits, not Filch, not Peeves, not even Snape.

Wood sighed. The scouts had said nothing—Madam Hooch told the teams later that they were reserving their judgments and opinions until they had seen every team play. That would take a while, as the next game wasn’t for weeks. All house teams had agreed to let the scouts sit in on practice sessions, though, which left Wood jittery. He didn’t much like anyone observing his team’s practice sessions, but while he might refuse students from watching he couldn’t very well do the same to professional recruiters.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the stone windowsill, dreaming of a contract, a cutting-edge broom, a full set of Quidditch robes and pads, all color-coordinated to match his team… He didn’t care which team at this point, so long as it was professional. Wood was all right in school, never gave his parents any cause to scold him for his marks, but his love was Quidditch. If he had to choose a career other than sports…well, he didn’t know if he could.

Unbidden and out of nowhere, the thought of Alicia floated into Wood’s head. He felt himself growing red around the ears again at the thought of his Chaser. She was a superb player, a great friend, a wonderful team member…and a girl. After today his problem with Alicia seemed doomed to worsen. Suddenly he found himself picturing her smooth dark hair, her tanned skin, how her eyes shone when she laughed at him…

"Damn," Wood said, and he punched the windowsill. His stinging knuckles helped alleviate his frustration for a moment, and as he shook the pain from his hand Wood thought about Alicia. They had been friends since she’d first come to Hogwarts, a year after him, and they’d been competitors for almost as long.

She was half-and-half; her father was a famous wizard artist (his paintings had the distressing tendency to come alive when they were only half-finished and disappear from their canvases) and her mother was an electrician. She’d always been average in all her classes, like Wood himself, and thoroughly ordinary in the classroom except for one thing. She could do what many powerful witches and wizards couldn’t—she could perform spells by merely thinking words instead of saying them out loud. Professor Flitwick had discovered this her first year, and while Wood hadn’t been in the classroom he’d certainly heard the story by the end of the day. She hadn’t managed to get the levitation spell right (no one in the class had) but she’d managed to somehow accidentally Summon a cage full of white mice to her desk without saying a word.

After that episode, teachers never again asked her to speak up while working in class. Sometimes Alicia spoke her spells, sometimes she didn’t, and sometimes she whispered or muttered instead of speaking clearly. She’d been unsuccessful at trying to teach this trick to others (George Weasley had given his brother Percy a large pair of donkey ears when trying to turn him silently into a newt) but never herself lost the knack for it.

She was magic on a broomstick, though. She had been trained in a Muggle sport called basketball, and though she claimed it was this training that gave her an edge over the others, Wood believed it was her ability to think quickly while in the air and her natural affinity for being aloft. She’d saved him from being hit with the Quaffle more times than he could count, though she never did a thing about wayward Bludgers. "Not my ball, not my business," she always said.

And though she only rode a Nimbus ’95, she was fast. Faster than most, though Wood had to admit she couldn’t hold a candle to little Potter on his Nimbus Two Thousand. In fact, only Potter and Wood himself (on a good day) could best Alicia for speed when it came to straight flying. She wasn’t quite as quick at maneuvering, but she was fast enough for a Chaser, and deadly accurate with the Quaffle. He could count on his hands the number of times she’d missed the hoops, and they’d been playing together for four years now. That was an amazing record for a high school Chaser. Which was one of the reasons he'd taken her out of the reserves - he'd had a hunch that she was more than just reserve material. He'd been right.

Wood knew that if she hadn’t been part of his Quidditch team, he’d have been far too terrified of Alicia to ever speak to her. He’d been able to ignore the feminine (and thereby terrifying) aspects of Alicia while she was merely another player on the team. But now, when she was rapidly becoming more than that, Wood couldn’t seem to ignore Alicia-the-female any more.

She was surprisingly small, and Wood was continually surprised by her stature when he caught her running from class to class, a full head shorter than he. He thought of her as bigger than she really was; possibly because of her intense speed and strength. She routinely hunted down the twins and blacked their eyes and split their lips for some trick they’d played on her. It was the closest those two would ever come to touching her, they knew it, and sometimes they’d tease her on purpose to provoke a fight. Because, twin tricksters notwithstanding, every single male in Gryffindor was a little infatuated with Alicia Spinnet.

This was for the very simple reason that she was perfect, Wood thought uncomfortably. She was perfect. From the top of her silky dark head to the soles of her brown feet. She moved like an athlete, with speed, grace, and purpose. She had delicate bones but a strong chin, and Wood knew her hair would feel softer than water to the touch. Her skin was warm brown, like tea or hazelnuts, and glowed during games and practices. Her eyes were dark but expressive, and Wood always knew how she was feeling…when he bothered to pay attention.

He’d rarely seen her in Muggle clothes and so could not say entirely how her body was shaped. But his glimpse of her in the locker room, shirtless, her robe throwing shadows across her skin, was ingrained upon his memory. He shivered, recalling the gentle touch of her hands upon his waist, the frightening fire she woke in his body when her mouth touched his...

Wood opened his eyes and gazed out on the silvered lawn, each blade of grass giving off its own shadow in the bright moonlight. He didn’t sleep much that night.