Quidditch (And Other Distractions)

Angelina rolled over on her back, dark skin velvet in the moonlight. The rest of the sixth-year girls’ dormitory was silent—Alicia, Maggie, and the O’Connor twins were all fast asleep. Katie moved to lean over Angelina, her eyes shining in the silver light from the window. Only in the pitch-silent hours of night did they dare draw back the curtains and let light shine on them. It would be their necks if anybody knew…

"I’m worried about Alicia," Angelina whispered.

"Why?" Katie leaned down and brushed her lips against Angelina’s collarbone.

"The thing with Oliver."

"Angie, you can’t do anything about that. Besides, I’m not even sure there is a ‘thing’."

Angelina shifted, the bedsheets starkly white against her skin. She lay back into her pillows and regarded Katie with a small smile playing ’round her lips. "She fancies him."

Katie grinned. "And? Guess what I fancy." She ducked her head and kissed Angelina’s ear, then nipped at the soft earlobe.

"No guesswork there," Angelina said. She pushed Katie away for a moment. "There will be trouble for them if this doesn’t get sorted out," she said, her voice serious. "It could affect the team. Kate, you know everything that’s riding on this year’s team, don’t you? I mean, it could mean going professional for any of us besides Harry. I don’t want to see our chances flushed because of awkwardness within the team."

"They’ll work it out," Katie said. "Never known Oliver not to go for what he wants."

"True enough," Angelina agreed. "But does he really want her? Do you know for sure?"

Katie smiled wickedly. "I received some…delicate information…from our twin tricksters this evening."

"Do tell," Angelina said. She rolled over, catching Katie so they rolled together and Katie fell to her back, Angelina on top of her. She slipped a knee between Katie’s, propped her head on her arm, and regarded her teammate and lover expectantly.

"Our dear Quidditch captain has been having…very interesting dreams lately."

"Fred and George don’t sleep in the seventh-year dormitory. How do they know?"

Katie shrugged. "Most of the time I find it’s best not to ask."

Angelina giggled. "Okay. So Oliver’s been dreaming…"

"And talking in his sleep."

"And what does he say?"

"A name…" Katie grinned.

"Does this name begin with an ‘A’?" Angelina guessed.

"It does."

"And does it have six letters?"

"Bang on."

Angelina squealed, the sound so high-pitched that it was barely discernible and did not wake the four other girls in the room. "No!"

"And, according to George, he doesn’t really say her name. He moans it." Katie smiled devilishly, like a cat with cream, and kneaded Angelina’s shoulders with her hands.

"So…what do you plan on doing?" Angelina asked. She turned her head to the side and nipped Katie’s lip gently.

"Watching. Waiting." Katie giggled, a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, as Angelina blew into her ear. "Laughing at them when they finally get it together."

"Mm." Angelina kissed her jaw. "I know a way to pass the time while we wait."

Katie wrapped her arms around her. "Close the curtains. I don’t want to freak out anyone who wakes up to use the john."

*~*~*

Alicia poked at the egg on her breakfast plate several weeks later. It had sat there so long that the runny yolk had nearly solidified. "Honestly, Harry," she said to the boy beside her, "I don’t know why you care what everyone else is saying. We all know it wasn’t your fault that we lost that game. I mean, Dementors are supposed to make you feel the worst fear in your life, right? Well, you’ve had more of it than most of us." She shrugged. "So it affects you more. Nothing doing, Harry, you can’t be at fault for things you can’t control."

"All the same," Harry said, adjusting his round glasses and glancing at the two other worried-looking people flanking him. "I should be able to handle them…I’m working on it. I can’t go fainting every time a Dementor walks past me."

"Come off it, Harry! It’s not your fault; didn’t you just hear her?" Ron Weasley pointed in Alicia’s general direction—Ron was rather in awe of the older girl, not the least because she was killer on a broomstick.

Wood passed them, tousling Harry’s already-wild hair with an absently affectionate gesture. "All right, Harry?" he asked, and all three third-years realized that Wood carefully did not look in Alicia’s direction.

They also saw the tension in Alicia’s jaw—she had noticed it, too. Casting curious glances at each other, they watched as Alicia threw down her napkin and followed Wood out of the Great Hall, nearly stomping, her quick strides catching up with him just outside the door.

"What was all that about?" Ron queried, eyeing Harry. "You never said they were fighting."

"I didn’t think they were," Harry said, his eyes wide.

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione rolled her eyes and swung away from the table. "They’re not fighting, they fancy each other!" She ran towards the door and hid, peering around to watch the spat. Ron and Harry looked at each other and then followed, crowding behind Hermione.

"Funny way to show it," Ron muttered, but they watched with rapt attention as Alicia cornered Wood. He’d been studiously ignoring her for weeks, ever since their rendezvous in the locker room before the Ravenclaw game. He spoke to her in practice and during games, but no more than was necessary, and he avoided her like the plague off the Quidditch pitch. This infuriated Alicia to no end—if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was afraid of her. And that prospect made her even angrier. She wasn’t going to stand for it any longer.

"Hey!"

He turned around, and attempted to look calm and polite as she stormed up to him. "Can I help you?" he asked, but Alicia noticed that his voice shook slightly.

"Look," she said, willing herself not to snap at him. "The other week in the locker room—I told you a million times. IT WAS NOTHING PERSONAL! The entire team decided that you needed to CALM DOWN and that it was the fastest way."

"I’m not angry about that," Wood said, gulping. He tried to step away from Alicia, but she had cornered him against a wall and there was nowhere for him to go. His eyes darted around like a caged beast’s, and Alicia couldn’t help but feel a bit of grim pleasure from that.

"Oh no? Then what is it?" She planted her hands on her hips, planted herself squarely in front of him so he couldn’t dodge past her without knocking her down, and stared him in the eye.

"Look, I…" Wood gulped again, his throat suddenly dry. She was furious, he was cornered, and exceedingly improper thoughts were coursing through his head. He pictured himself—dear Lord—kissing her right then and there. Oh, she’d positively murder him… She'd proven that she didn't particularly want to kiss him by her behavior. Why had she gone for her toothbrush right after leaving him, last time?

Wood stared at her mouth, and though she was angry it wasn’t compressed into a thin line. Rather, her lips were parted slightly, and though he could just barely see her clenched teeth, he knew there was nothing he wanted more in that moment, ludicrous as it sounded, than to kiss her again. He couldn’t look away…

The memory of his dreams flooded back to him. They were dreams of which he couldn’t remember more than a few snatches, dreams of a mystery girl kissing him and touching him in ways he couldn’t even imagine. It was always the same girl, but he couldn’t remember who she was. All he knew was that she made him feel…funny. Happy, content, full of energy, all at the same time. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he was dreaming about love. And suddenly…suddenly the way the mystery girl moved and the shine of light on her hair solidified…into Alicia. He saw her face shining back at him inside his head, bathed in moonlight, and its twin standing before him in the Entrance Hall, her skin flushed with anger, her eyes snapping dark fire as she waited impatiently for him to answer her…

"Well?" Alicia said, snapping him back to the present.

Wood blinked, his eyes darted all around, and he knew there was only one way out. Swiftly, swift as the wind, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers. Alicia raised her arms, at first to push him away, but somehow one of them ended up cradling his cheek and the other rested against his waist. The kiss didn’t get enough time for either Wood or Alicia to decide whether it was a good one or not—there was simply a jolt of electricity as their mouths met, and they clung for a long moment. Then Wood pulled back and darted away behind Alicia, running swiftly outside.

Half a second later Alicia stomped down the hall toward Gryffindor tower, spouting one of the longest and most imaginative strains of invective Harry, Hermione, and Ron had ever heard.

"Wow," Ron said. He looked at Harry and Hermione, and they both laughed.

"But…" Harry wrinkled his nose. "Oliver and…and Alicia? I dunno…"

"Well, I think it’s cute," Hermione said. "I mean, they’re both on the team, right? So that makes two couples on the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"Two?" Ron scowled furiously. "What do you mean two? That means that either Harry’s been seeing someone, or one of my brothers has."

Hermione blinked, and then she blushed furiously and stammered a disclaimer about the statement.

"Well, which twin is it?" Harry asked.

"C’mon, you can tell us," Ron said.

She glanced around. "Look at the time! We’ll be late for class!" And she walked swiftly out of the Great Hall, leaving a very puzzled Ron and Harry in her wake.

*~*~*

Alicia fumed for the rest of that week, staying well out of Wood’s way. She felt it was best for all concerned, because every time she got near him she felt like clobbering him. Bloodying his lip and blacking his eye sounded like a wonderful solution, but as she lay awake at night and listened to Angelina and Katie giggling quietly in Angelina’s bed she admitted to herself that punching Wood was not likely to solve their problem.

The problem was that she’d fallen hard for her Quidditch captain a long time ago, and refused to admit it. She told herself that relations among teammates never worked out, and she refused to sacrifice the integrity of the Gryffindor team just because she wanted to date its captain. She'd brushed her teeth directly after kissing him, simply to try and erase the memory of his kiss. If she couldn't have him, there was no point in worrying about it.

She buried her head in her pillow and thought about Wood. He was quiet in classes, kind to most everyone he met, if a little distant. The distance, she knew, was because of his preoccupation with Quidditch. The game was his life, and he was certainly gifted. He could fly like no other, with the exception of little Harry, and Alicia felt like she could watch him all day as he guarded the golden hoops from the Quaffle. She loved playing with him, because they worked so well together. Without many words, he could explain exactly what he wanted, and without much effort she could do it, both of them working off unconscious clues from the other.

It helped—or didn’t, as the case may be—that he was fucking beautiful. He wasn’t rugged, wasn’t handsome, he was plain beautiful in a delicate way that Alicia couldn’t describe. But his milky complexion and dark, beautiful eyes drew her every time, framed by those impossibly long eyelashes that no man should have. With the exception of pre-game pep talks, every word he said with that accent went straight through her, kindling fire in her core. Though it infuriated her that he had so much power over her and didn’t even know it, she longed for him to say her name with that voice—gently, softly, for her ears alone.

She didn’t sleep much, her conflicting emotions making her a nervous wreck. She didn’t think about the Quidditch scouts, didn’t think about anything much except how to resolve this problem with Wood. It wasn’t fair, she thought furiously, that he could do this to her. It simply wasn’t fair.

She longed for peace, for an end to the conflict. But that could hardly happen when both she and Wood were taking every precaution not to see each other. Alicia sighed. She’d tried several times to corner him in the locker room so that they could talk, but every time he managed to elude her. It was as if he knew what she wanted and could predict her movements before she herself could make them.

Alicia punched her pillows in frustration. She’d try again after tomorrow’s practice. Something had to happen, and soon. Before it started to affect their behavior on the field.

She kept her resolve throughout the day, hardly paying attention to anything in class and having to apologize several times for knocking into people in the halls. She hadn’t been paying attention to where she’d been walking.

Finally evening came, and with it practice. Wood was back at his worst, pushing them beyond their limits, furious with himself at the defeat by Hufflepuff. Alicia saw the twins casting meaningful glances her way and knew what they were thinking. But she couldn’t very well corner Wood in the locker room again if he refused to be cornered. And she wasn’t going to do anything to make the problem between them worse, so the Weasleys were just going to have to put up with their overbearing captain until Alicia figured out how to handle him. It wasn’t going to be easy.

Finally, when it was too dark to see anything and the Chasers were being smacked with Bludgers because the Weasleys couldn’t aim in the dark, Wood called a halt to practice and let them put their brooms away. Alicia stayed on the pitch to help him pack away the Bludgers and the Quaffle, noting with a spark of annoyance that Wood refused to look at her, though his hands shook when they accidentally brushed against hers.

"Look," she said squarely when she was sure the rest of the team had entered the locker room, "we need to talk." She put out a hand and grabbed Wood’s chin, forcing his head up. In the darkness she couldn’t read his expression, but his skin was ghostly pale.

"I-I really n-need to get the b-balls back to Madam H-Hooch," he stuttered, and Alicia felt both indignant and amused that he was actually nervous around her. She began to feel, for the first time, that there might be a chance to this thing after all. Could her presence possibly affect him the way his affected her?

"No, you need to get yourself some balls and listen to me," she snapped. "Oliver, what is it? You want me to apologize for that kiss in the locker room? I will. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would bother you this much." She eyed him. "So talk. What’s wrong?"

"I…" He swallowed and shook his head. "I have to go." And he grabbed the trunk containing the Quidditch gear and dragged it away by himself. Alicia swore loudly and stomped into the locker room, ready to give up. If he didn’t want to talk to her, he didn’t have to. She couldn’t force a nearly-grown man to act adult if he didn’t want to. She’d be waiting if he ever found the nerve to come find her.

*~*~*

Wood stared dully at Professor Binns, not really seeing anything. Of course, as Binns was a ghost and thoroughly wrapped up in his subject instead of his students, it really didn’t matter what Wood did in his class.

He looked awful, and Patrick MacBrann, a Hufflepuff who sat near him, wasn’t afraid to say so. Wood knew it was true. He had long since abandoned thinking of his bruised-looking eyes as having dark circles under them. He knew that it really looked like he’d been beaten soundly in both eyes with sharp little fists. His dark eyes and shadowy eyelashes didn’t help; from far away he looked like a ghost. People were beginning to skirt him in the halls. He had also heard a rumor today from a group of first and second-year Ravenclaws. People were saying that poor Oliver Wood, bent on victory for Gryffindor, couldn’t handle the Dementors skulking around the entrances of the school and it was affecting him like it affected his Seeker. He knew his gaunt, skull-like look and his preoccupied nature lately had fueled this rumor. He wanted to feel a little indignation that people thought him so weak, but he couldn’t drudge up the need to care.

Everything had gone downhill since Alicia had cornered him after breakfast, and that had been weeks ago. None of his classes interested Wood anymore. His friends—all except the Gryffindor Quidditch team, that is—bored him. He had been taken to task by several teachers for not turning in homework, something they said was most unlike him, and was nearly caught wandering the halls at night two days ago.

Wood wouldn’t risk wandering at night anymore; just because he couldn’t sleep didn’t mean he had to go risking Gryffindor points. He mostly just sat at the window or down in the common room, staring at the grounds or the fireplace. Everyone seemed to be watching him, waiting to see what would happen. Even Fred and George Weasley, usually so loud and boisterous, were giving him plenty of room. Everyone who cared to notice Wood’s behavior seemed simply to want to watch and see what he would do.

Only on the Quidditch pitch did Wood’s cares melt away. Only on the Quidditch pitch did things seem right once more. He suspected it had something to do with Alicia, for he only saw her now during practice. She was avoiding him, doing a marvelous job of it, and for all Wood knew she was still fighting mad about him ignoring her. Well, he couldn’t help it. What was he supposed to do?

Wood cursed himself for ten thousand fools. He’d hoped he could get through his time at Hogwarts without falling prey to a deadly thing like a schoolboy crush. It had taken him till his seventh year to finally acquire one; he had almost made it. Nothing had mattered more to him than Quidditch; he didn’t have time for girls.

Except when they happened to go together, girls and Quidditch.

Every minute of every day was a war Wood waged within himself. He wanted to seek her out, to apologize, to hear what she had to say. At the same time he wanted to run as far away from her as he could get, go someplace where she could never, ever find him. He knew he couldn’t have it both ways, and he knew that straddling the fence was turning him into a living zombie. He had to make a choice…and soon. The problem was, he wasn’t even remotely sure how Alicia felt. He could still hear her voice, as she pressed him to the lockers that day in the locker room. It’s nothing personal, she’d told him.

Did that mean she didn’t feel the same way?

Professor Binns was droning still; Wood raised his hand and pretended to jot down a few notes with his quill. Tonight, he thought, swallowing the sudden caterpillars that had crawled into his stomach. It has to be tonight.

*~*~*

It was so much like his dream that Wood began to shiver. He crept up the girls’ staircase, pausing at the sixth-floor landing. Not a sound from within; he hoped that meant all were sleeping. He opened the door a crack, peered inside, and then slid into the room and eased the door shut behind him.

There were the six beds, three on either side of the room. Nobody waited in the moonlight; but then, Wood wasn’t really expecting anyone to. He couldn’t remember which bed was Alicia’s—he stepped toward one and put his ear to the curtains, listening hard. The breathing pattern of the inhabitant didn’t sound right at all; the breaths were shallow and quick. The bed smelled of heavy perfume. He shook his head and stepped away.

The third bed he tried smelled right—like grass and sports chalk and birch twigs. The breathing sounded right, too, though Wood couldn’t really guess what Alicia sounded like when she slept. But whoever-it-was breathed slow and soft and deep, and it sounded right to Wood. Cautiously, hand shaking, Wood pulled apart the heavy draperies covering the bed.

There she was, blankets heaped around and over her. Wood felt his face go red, glad it was too dark for anyone to tell. Hesitating every few moments, not really sure at all what he was doing, he climbed onto the large bed and pulled the draperies closed behind him.

Hardly knowing how he dared, he leaned close over her sleeping form. "Alicia," he whispered.

She frowned and flinched in the tiny glow from Wood’s wand, and then her eyes opened. Instantly she was on her guard.

"Who’s there?" she hissed ominously. With one hand she scrabbled under her pillows, and Wood would have bet she slept with her wand there.

"It’s Oliver," he whispered quickly. "It’s just me; it’s okay."

She peered at him in the shadows, and for one minute Wood was terrified that she was still furious with him and would raise the alarm that he was out of bed. But no such thing happened.

Alicia stared at him, her eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the wand-light, and then brought a callused hand up to touch his cheek. Wood shivered and resisted the urge to raise his own hand and hold hers there.

"Oliver?" she whispered, and there was no trace of anger in her words. "What…what are you doing here?"

"I…" All his prefabricated excuses vanished when faced with her sleepy eyes and the calm way she had accepted his appearance in her bed. All thoughts that he had to explain himself or make flamboyant excuses disappeared. Wood swallowed. "Can I stay?"

The space between them grew completely quiet. Alicia cocked her head to the side, regarding him calmly. "Why?"

"I won’t touch you," Wood hastened to say. "N-not like that, anyway. I just want…to be near you, I guess." He hoped he hadn’t sounded too corny.

Alicia didn’t say anything right away, and as the moments ticked away Wood grew more and more frantic and crushed. Finally, unable to bear the thick silence, his heart like tomato peelings on the ground, Wood turned away. "I’ll go," he said.

But suddenly, from Alicia’s seat among the pillows, something warm and soft hurtled at him.

It was Alicia herself, and she looked at him, her pupils wide in the dim light. "Oliver," she whispered, and to his utter stupefaction she raised her mouth slightly and touched her lips to his.

It was a very unsure sensation, though not panicked like the kiss he had planted on her outside the Great Hall. This was warm and soft and very pleasant, though neither party quite knew what they were doing. This wasn’t the blinding hot confusion Wood had felt before their game against Ravenclaw, either. This wasn’t about sweat or desire at all, really. It was more of a way of communication than anything else. Wood understood, as Alicia slipped a bare arm around his neck, why she’d been so angry that he had ignored her. She understood why he had done so. Slowly they parted.

Wood noticed that sometime during that kiss he’d placed a hand on Alicia’s waist, his fingers curving over her back. He didn’t move it, hoping she’d let him keep it there for a while. It was interesting to touch someone else like this; Wood had never before experienced in quite this way the rise and fall of her stomach as she breathed, the quiver of skin against muscle as she shifted in his grasp. She wasn’t soft like a doll or a toy—rather, she was smooth skin over hard muscle, and he realized this as he held her waist, feeling her muscles tense and relax beneath the surface of her skin.

Wood purposefully bumped his nose against Alicia’s. She took the hint and kissed him again, this time letting the tip of her tongue move against his lower lip. She lapped at his lip gently, and then to his melting surprise and amazement, she bit his lip softly, squeezing the flesh between her teeth. She didn’t break the skin or even hurt him, but Wood was quite aware of blood thrumming in his lip when she let him go.

Their mouths locked again, gently, quivering with this new pleasure. Again and again Alicia kissed him, small kisses, as they learned what their mouths could do. Neither quite dared to attempt the big, sloppy kisses they spoke of with their friends in hushed voices. It was as if they were removed from the rest of the world. Neither thought about what they were supposed to do with a member of the opposite sex, or what might become of their innocent kissing. Until finally, when Wood was like warm boy-putty beside her, Alicia rested her forehead against his.

"I have to sleep," she said. "Potions quiz tomorrow, and Snape has it in for me."

"Do you want me to leave?" Wood asked quietly. He didn’t want to, but he thought that now, knowing Alicia wasn’t mad at him and that she felt what he did, he could possibly sleep.

A glimmer of a smile showed on Alicia’s face. "No…" She reached up and touched her mouth to his, ever so gently. "I’d like you to stay…I just can’t play any more tonight."

"Understood," Wood said.

Alicia smiled and held up her blankets so he could crawl underneath. Then she reached out and pulled at the hem of Wood’s pajama shirt. Bewildered, he let her pull it off and toss it to the foot of the bed.

"What was that for?" he demanded in a whisper.

Alicia grinned. "I always wanted to do that," she said, and she reached up and kissed him quickly once more before pulling him down to nestle in her arms. Wood quickly decided that this was much better than he’d imagined and much much better than sleeping alone. Alicia was dressed in cotton pants and a plain red camisole, and her bare arms against his bare back and chest made him shiver. Wood let her push him down onto his back, then felt her stretch out next to him on her stomach, her arm snaked across his waist. He reached out and pulled, and she slid like butter into his arms. Nestled close, she sighed and fell asleep. Wood followed quickly on her heels, sleeping the whole night through for the first time in weeks.

*~*~*

The sound of females cursing woke Wood the next morning. He frowned in confusion, not remembering where he was or why he should hear girls when he woke. Then he relaxed as Alicia breathed a soft chuckle into his ear. "I think I like having you sleep here," she whispered.

Another spurt of cursing from beyond the bedcurtains made Wood flinch. "If I don’t get caught, I may try it more often," he whispered back. Beneath her brown skin, Alicia blushed hotly. Wood, even still not quite daring, spread a hand on her waist and kissed her forehead.

"Don’t go all soft on me now, Oliver," she said, but her low whisper was amused and she threaded her fingers in his short hair, holding his head in her hands.

"Alicia!" It was Katie Bell, and she slapped at the wooden bedpost with the flat of her hand. "You up? Feeling all right?"

Alicia and Wood froze, not wanting to be seen by anyone, not even someone on their Quidditch team. They’d both receive certain detention, not to mention God-knew how many points from Gryffindor for such a breach of rules. No students were ever allowed to spend the night in the other sex’s dormitory. And even though nothing had happened between them during the night, Wood worried about the strain on Alicia’s reputation if he were found in her bed. That might be something kids did all the time in America—even something Muggle kids did in Britain—but young wizards and witches at Hogwarts were supposed to be consumed with their studies. Not each other.

"D-don’t look!" Alicia squeaked, her eyes big as she leaped out from under the blankets. "I…I’m changing!"

"Since when are you so modest?" It was Angelina’s voice this time. "It’s not catching, you know."

"Angie, I know! It’s not that, it’s just that I—"

"Forget it." Katie again, and she sounded hurt. "We’ll see you in the dining hall." Muffled footsteps receded, and then there was silence. Apparently Maggie and the O’Connor twins had already left the room.

Wood let out the breath he’d been holding. "What was all that about?"

"Nothing." Alicia poked her head out of the bedcurtains. "Oh, I hope they’re not too angry…"

Wood groped for his pajama shirt and tugged it over his head. "I don’t understand," he said, his voice muffled by the material.

"It’s nothing," Alicia said. She turned back to him and suddenly laughed.

"What?"

She reached out and caught his face in her hands, pulling him closer. She kissed the tip of his nose and then tilted her head and kissed his top lip gently. "You look like you lost a fight with one of those sucker-things from Muggle Studies."

"A vacuum-cleaner?" Wood hesitantly patted at his own hair. He could tell without looking that he had an awful case of bedhead. "Is it that terrible?"

"I think it’s cute," Alicia said, reaching up and tangling her fingers in his, drawing his hands away from his hair. "Though maybe not the thing for formal occasions."

"You've been hanging around the Weasley twins too much." Wood brought her right hand up to his mouth and kissed her palm, then pressed his lips gently to the inside of her wrist where the snakelike veins glowed purple against her brown skin. He thought she shivered, but it could have been a breeze from the open window.

"I hate to say this…" she started.

"I’ll see you at breakfast," Wood said, catching her point. "Better go before I get caught."

Alicia laughed and put her arms around him, squeezing him for a long moment. Then she released him with a little shove toward the door. "Go, before we get in trouble."

Oliver left the sixth-floor girls’ dormitory with a lighter step than he’d had in a long time.