Soaring Above the Pitch

The first time Oliver Wood saw her, he was in his element. It was training season for Puddlemere United and Oliver happened to be on the sidelines for the second match of the pre-season. He played the day before and won in spectacular fashion, not allowing Kenmare to score any goals.

"Keep it up, Wood, and you'll make first team this year," the coach told him after the game.

But today he was riding the bench, which was fine. This gave him a chance to see the competition in action. He trained hard in the off season; work outs in the morning and drills every afternoon at the old pitch behind the family house. He was ready to make Puddlemere's first team this season. It wasn't so much that he was ready but that he knew this was his year.

The twenty year old Oliver Wood had been playing on the Puddlemere reserve team for the last three years and by doing so had acquired himself quite a following. There was no denying that he was handsome. Only three years out of Hogwarts, he was a fresh face for the ladies who follow the sport or more appropriately the individual players. Often after games he was mobbed by female fans for autographs and photos, which he willingly gave out. It was the polite thing to do.

Even with his good looks, Oliver has only had three serious girlfriends. Lara Blalock, in his fourth year, whom he dated for about a month, then there was Holly Rodgers of Ravenclaw who only lasted two weeks, and finally in his sixth year he managed a seven week relationship with Aubrey Finnigan.

Now, one has to ask why these relationships didn't last longer. The simple explanation is that Oliver Wood was, and still is, completely wrapped up in the game of Quidditch. The girls didn't appreciate the fact that Oliver spent more time devising plays and organizing practices than with them. His argument was always that he was the captain and therefore it was his responsibility to make sure that Gryffindor put out a quality team each year. So in the end each relationship crumbled.

Of course, there were the girls who weren't looking for a long term relationship, but only for a quick snog in a broom closet. These occurrences happened often during his days at school since it seemed to be the best way to keep both parties happy. He was a boy after all and had to get his kicks somewhere.

Since leaving school all he had manage to secure in terms of women, were a few nights of dinner with a girl he met during his second training season. He was far to busy to consider a full relationship.

***

The Puddlemere coach never paid much attention to the players sitting on the sidelines. He was too busy yelling commands at his players on the field, occasionally throwing an obscenity toward the referee. This allowed the players sitting the bench to resort to their own means of supervision and or entertainment, because the game seemed out of the question. Some of them, like Oliver, focused all their attention on the game whether they were on the pitch or not. Others found entertainment elsewhere, such as scouring the stands for interesting spectators.

Today, Oliver found himself among those players who enjoyed watching the crowd instead of watching the game. The three boys about Oliver's age (give or take a few years), were having a hell of a time pointing out the girls they thought were good looking and some who they didn't, each making comments about these particular ladies that don't necessarily need to be mentioned. Oliver, who found it very difficult to watch the game I this situation, found he was listening to their remarks more then watching.

"Alright, straight across the pitch, third row up, wearing yellow robes, do you see her?" Quincy asked pointing rather blatantly in the area he was talking about.

Oliver's eyes couldn't help but follow Quincy's instructions. He found the girl with yellow robes. He agreed with Quincy that she was pretty, though admittedly a bit young for any one of them. Her head of blonde curls fell softly around her face, which light up with glee as the Puddlemere chasers flew down the pitch.

Two seconds later, Duncan shifted their focus to another girl, a section to the left. Oliver's gaze also drifted over to the latest mark of their interest. He heard Duncan mutter something about a broom closet, but that was the last thing he heard out of them. Immediately, Oliver was enraptured by this girl and his gaze remained on her long after the other three had picked out a new target.

She was wearing robes of a navy blue. That had to mean she was supporting Puddlemere. Her long blonde hair was layered with streaks of black, framing her face perfectly. She was fixed on the game with intense concentration, darkened eyes following the players up and down the pitch. Suddenly she jumped up in her seat, clapping, hollering and pumping her fist in the air.

Oliver blinked, bringing himself back to the field. Puddlemere had just scored. Brysten Whitman, one of the Puddlemere Chasers, was doing a lap around the pitch in celebration of the goal he just scored. Oliver joined in the cheering on the bench, trying not to look so distracted.

For the remainder of the game he tried to concentrate on the game, but his eyes continuously darted between the match and the girl. He couldn't put his finger on what it was that attracted him to her, but surely it was only a physical attraction.

***

The team had come out victorious, winning two-hundred and eighty to sixty. Oliver showered quickly so that he could go home and relax. Grabbing his broom, he exited the stadium. His quick departure was slowed as he made his way outside. A crowd of girls was waiting outside the door for the players to leave. Immediately, Oliver was pressed upon to sign bits of parchment, brooms, and miscellaneous other objects. He signed a bit of parchment for a small witch, no more then six years of age. Handing the parchment back, he saw her.

It caught him by surprise, he hadn't been expecting to see the girl from the stands again, but there she was sitting away from the mob on a bench near the path leading away from the pitch. Seeing her up close she was even prettier then he originally thought. Her eyes were not dark like they had seemed from so far away. Instead they were a bright shade of turquoise, heavily lined with dark make-up. She casually watched the crowd of people from her distance, not looking as though she was remotely interested in getting an autograph. She moved a hand decorated with silver rings and bracelets to tuck her long hair behind an ear decorated with many piercings.

"Excuse me, Mr. Wood. Can I please have my paper back?" asked the young witch who he had signed the autograph for. She was tugging gently on his robes as she spoke.

Oliver cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed as the little girl's parents looked on. "Oh, of course," he said absentmindedly, as he handed her the parchment with a grin. "Hope you'll come back and cheer for Puddlemere again!"

"I sure will!" she said happily as she skipped away to where her parents were waiting, waving the parchment around excitedly. They smiled and waved a thanks to Oliver, who waved back with a nod.

Oliver had a chance to look at the girl on the bench once more, before being asked to sign a few more things. Finally, the people had cleared out and only some of the players were left, but the girl still sat in the same position. Oliver wondered who she might be waiting for, obviously it was a one of the players or she wouldn't have been waiting for so long.

His thoughts were answered almost instantaneously, as she stood up with a wide grin. Brysten, one of the Chasers, had just exited the locker room. The girl hurried over to him, throwing her arms around him in a hug. Oliver felt his heart sink slightly. He should have known he didn't have much of a chance. He watched them for a moment longer just to see the girl take Brysten's broomstick from him and carried it as they walked away.

Oliver turned on the spot, Apparating back to his apartment. He wished he had somewhere better to be than here. Brysten Whitman just happened to be Oliver's room mate for the summer. It was out of sheer luck that the two were roomed together for summer training. They already knew one another from their Quidditch days at Hogwarts, having played three years together. It was a pleasant surprise for both when they found out they would be sharing an apartment for the five week training program. But at the moment Oliver wasn't thinking this situation was ideal. He didn't want Brysten to come back to the apartment with the one girl that he had been eyeing up the entire game.

Bloody hell Oliver, he thought to himself. What do you think you're playing at? You need to get your mind off this bird. There are more important things to worry about. Just go in and read for a bit, get her off your mind. When Brysten gets back, you'll just have to face the facts that it's his girlfriend. Not a big deal. Quidditch come first in your life anyway.

He walked into his bedroom, flipped on the light, pulled out the latest edition of Quidditch Quarterly, and immersed himself into an article about being a Keeper at the International level.

***

About an hour later the apartment door creaked opened. Oliver knew it meant Brysten and his friend were finally back. He didn't move from his spot on the bed, but waited to hear what would come next.

"Oliver! Oy, mate! Are you here?" Brysten's voice came from the living room. Then there was a knock on the door. "Oliver, if you're in there, I want you to meet someone."

Oliver heard the shuffle of feet away from his door. He set down his magazine on the night stand next to the bed. He let out a sigh as he rose from the bed, leaving the confines of the room.

There she was, sitting on the sofa with her back to him as he entered the room. She was no longer wearing her long navy robes that he had seen her in at the match. Instead, she had on a short black skirt and a purple tank top. He couldn't help but notice the tattoo of a purple daisy on her left shoulder blade. Oliver walked further into the room.

Brysten shifted toward him with a grin. "Oliver, I want you to meet my sister, Dayla."

Sister, did he just say sister? Oliver's thoughts were all over the place for a moment. He smiled, unable to help himself. "It's a pleasure to meet you!" he said, reaching out his hand in a polite gesture. She accepted and gave it a shake.

Suddenly, she turned to Brysten with a satisfied smirk on her face. "I told you he wouldn't remember me!"

Oliver looked at them utterly bewildered, not quite grasping and then it hit him. Obviously she had to go to Hogwarts too. She must have been there at least one year he was.

Brysten chuckled at the confused look on Oliver's face. "Don't worry mate, no one recognized her after last summer. So, it's okay if you don't remember the scrawny fourth year girl that she used to be."

Dayla smiled softly at Oliver. "I didn't expect you to remember me. You had all the older girls to keep you distracted. I would have been in my fourth year during your seventh. Could you imagine what it would have been like if a seventh year had talked to me?"

He wasn't quite sure what to say to that remark and frowned slightly. "What happened last summer?"

"I transformed over night!" she laughed. "Well, I used to wear these really gross thick glasses and was kind of nerdy, but one trip to into London and that all changed. Then a few trips later I got my tattoo and a few piercings. Yeah, mum wasn't too pleased about that. So when I went back to school, no one recognized me. It was brilliant." Dayla leaned back casually on the couch as she spoke, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.

Oliver sat down on the arm of one of the chairs. "Sounds brilliant! What was the reaction when they figured out it was you?"

"Well, of course some people were put off by the abrupt change. Mostly the outcome was good. I didn't need to hide behind my more popular twin brother anymore!" She turned to Brysten who was sitting next to her and punched him playfully in the arm and then abruptly changed the subject. "So, do I get to see the talented Oliver Wood in action tomorrow? Please, tell me you're going to be Keeper! The guy today was decent enough, but a few times I thought the Quaffle was going to slide right through his grasp. I mean the guy was lucky to have the superb Chasers today."

Oliver's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink after her comment. Honestly he wasn't sure if he was playing tomorrow. There were three guys that were vying for the spot of Keeper, so it could be either of the three to get the call.

"It's possible; I could play tomorrow if coach wants to put me in. We still have one more Keeper that hasn't played yet. It's always up in the air until about an hour before game time," he said with a shrug.

The rest of the night, the three of them spent discussing the game, which Oliver had very little to contribute to, since he hadn't paid much attention. They also talked about the outlook of tomorrow's game. Oliver excused himself at ten o'clock to go to bed, which was his usual tradition on nights before games. Lying in bed, he looked up at the ceiling with a bit of a smirk. It was just like he thought, this was his year.