Just a quick prologue to a story idea I had a few years back that I recently revisited! May become more than a on shot.
There's such thing as a waste of good genes. Her name was Maria Wadcock. Great granddaughter of Joscelind Wadcock(the famed Puddlemere United chaser who holds the record for highest number of goals in the British League in the 20th century), and niece of Kenilworthy Whisp, author of Quidditch through the ages. As if that wasn't enough, she is a direct descendant of one of the original Parkin's children who were the founding team members of the Wigtown Wanderers.
Regardless, Maria refuses to play the game.
When she was sorted into Gryffindor as a first year, I was ecstatic. We'd win the house cup for sure for the following six years. Rumor had it that Maria had been personally trained by her great grandmother since the day of her birth. She was very pretty as well, and from the first time I saw her, I knew I was going to marry her.
"Hi, I'm Oliver. Oliver Wood," I was jubilant and I'm sure it was apparent. She smiled. A very likable smile. She smiled like a quidditch player. What that means, I haven't the foggiest.
"I'm Maria, Maria Wadcock. The food looks so good here... Do you think it's like this every day?" She said pointing to the array of food infront of us. I shrugged.
"I can sure get a healthy meal out of it. Which'll be good if I'm to play quidditch. I can't wait until next year when I can try for the team," she grabbed a piece of bread and I followed suit.
"So you want to play?" she inquired. I grinned and nodded enthusiastically.
"That's cool."
And that was the end of that conversation.
Second year went by, and I was disappointed to see that she hadn't tried out for the team. No, instead she was busy with the frog choir and studies. Third year came and went, and suddenly she and all the other girls our fourth year were... different. The summer had done Maria well. That was for sure. There was a brief second in which even I had to appreciate that.
Most girls came back and they had gotten 'prettier', but Maria was looking quite fit, and she was beyond pretty. I would even go so far as to say she came back beautiful with her skin tanned no doubt from hours of flying, her soft caramel colored hair, and big hazel eyes.
The tryouts passed once again and it became clear that she was wasting good talent. I'd even seen her fly one evening while I was at the pitch. She was swift, graceful, and dangerous. And boy, what a broom. A Nimbus 1700. I retrieved my piddly little clean sweep and flew up to meet her in the sky. "You know, you can get in big trouble for being out here," she lingered there for a moment.
"I know. It's all a matter of how much I care. Which isn't much." Then she was off again. It was like watching a cheetah. Beautiful, graceful, fast. I flew as fast as I could, just to match her cruising speed.
"You're a beautiful flyer, ya know." I shouted after her and she laughed. The sound was more enticing than any sirens song.
"You're not so bad yourself! Especially on a clean sweep!" I gave her a sheepish grin, and that's the exact moment when I fell for her.
"I'll be getting a new broom as soon as I can. But that's a beauty you got there. Nimbus 1700?" She grinned.
"My grandmother gave it to me," we slowed down after about a half an hour and flew to the pitch. She did some impressive loops and showed off her agility as she weaved in and out of the
"I'm glad you didn't try out for keeper. You would've beaten me for sure," I offered, trying to get on the subject of her playing for us.
"Everyone in my family plays." She said nonchalantly. That was the first clue I should've picked up on. She talked about quidditch nonchalantly.
"And they play well," I added, oblivious to the big fat turn back now sign she had just given me.
"Thank you," she offered a smile. And oh, that smile was like rays of sunshine, warming me up and brightening my day. "But I'm out to make my own name for myself. Besides I prefer to play chaser." 'Perfect' I thought to myself. 'She would make a great chaser.'
"Well, you wanna teach me how you did all those loops?" I started flying closer to her.
"Well, first off, you don't ride the broom. You control it. You have control of every little thing it does. You just have to be able to control yourself, Get comfortable." I did as she said. "The broom is just an extension of yourself. Now try." I flew over to the ring and took her advice. It worked, until I got dizzy. I came back feeling wobbly.
"There's two of you," I quipped, and she giggled. Sirens surely had no hold on me after that.
"Keep your spot. Keep your eyes focused on one thing and one thing only." I tried again, feeling like I was floating. I felt the bravado coming on.
"How was that?" She met me in the middle.
"Very impressive." I thought she was a quidditch personified. Therefore she was beautiful. Grace and ferocity, quick and focused.
"You're impressive." It was the best compliment I had. I mentally kicked myself for weeks after that one. "It's getting late." I stated matter of factly. The sun had already disappeared and the stars were making their way out.
"You know... The Hogsmeade visit is coming up this weekend. And I've saved enough for a new broom." She considered it for a moment.
"That sounds nice... You just want this broom? I have tons back home. I can just send for another."
"As tempting as that sounds, don't worry about that... how many brooms do you have?" She started doing some mental calculations.
"7. My great grandmother gets me a new one every year for my birthday. She knows I like flying. Not much else about me though." My eyes popped out of my head, I'm sure.
"Merlin, I've just got this thing. And I'm trading in and paying for the rest with some galleons I've painstakingly saved up." She smiled. If only then I'd have known to turn around and run.
"Maybe you can visit me and my great grandmother over one of these breaks." We started making our descent onto the pitch. Like the fool I was, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her.
"You should still play, you know." She shrugged.
"I'll think about it." In a moment of lapsed judgment I grabbed her hand. A shock of electricity went through my younger, oblivious selfs whole body.
"Would you also think about going to Hogsmeade with me?" She smiled, and I saw a flash of something in her eye that I couldn't quite describe.
"I'd love to, Oliver." With that we sneaked off to the castle. We never went to Hogsmeade that weekend. I never visited her great grandmothers mansion where she lived, and we never met up again.
But she came to every match. Sometimes she'd watch practice. Sometimes She'd sit across from me in the library. She'd ask about the Potions essay due at the end of the week. I had even come to accept that the night was a dream.
Fourth year flew by the same way. But the train ride to Hogwarts my fifth year was the breaking point. I stumbled upon her in a cabin by herself, came in and closed the door.
"Hey Oliver, how was your summer?" She beamed at me, and though I was enraptured for a second, I remembered that she had cost me the cup last year. I remembered our evening on the pitch.
"Wonderful, get another new broom for your birthday this year?" She winced. She remembered everything just as I did.
"As a matter of fact, I did. A Nimbus 2000." I nodded approvingly trying to keep my cool.
"I've done some research on it. Nimbus has made some excellent improvements on their brooms since the 1700." She took up an interest in her feet at that part.
"I've noticed, the turn radius has gotten much smaller, and the handling has improved about sevenfold."
"Listen, It's fine. 2 years ago you weren't interested in me and I get it. I've surely moved on from a tiny crush I had when I was thirteen." She looked at me.
"I was interested, Oliver. I just didn't quite know what to do." I frowned.
"You could've not stood me up." She sighed.
"I know it was wrong. I just... I knew how you felt about quidditch and I'm sorr... It's exactly what I'm trying to get away from." How could she hate the game?
"I'm Captain this year, you know. And I need a seeker. I know you prefer chaser, but you're fast, focused, and nimble." She shook her head.
"I told you I'm trying to get away from it." I put my finger under her chin, in a desperate attempt to lift her gaze.
"I need your help. Even if you don't play seeker. You can even play chaser. But I can't win the cup without you." She looked at me apologetically.
"I wish I could help you Oliver."
"You can. You're the only thing holding you back. I'm not telling you to go pro. I'm asking for you to help me. One season." She opened her mouth and closed it again. "You love flying, you love the thrill of the game, you've got quidditch running through your veins. You love the challenge, and the feeling of victory. But you won't help me out because you want to be different from your family. You are different. You fly with both grace and ferocity in a way that I've never seen before. You have a unique identity as a player. But you're trying to find yourself in all the places that you're not." She looked at me coldly.
"You don't know what you're talking about. You barely know me." The caramel color of her model-like soft curls, shone in the sunlight of the window. Her beautiful and radiant skin was smooth dotted with faint freckles on her face, and her lips... I looked back up to her eyes, a beautiful Hazel, That was shooting a cold and scornful look at me.
"Not for lack of trying, Maria." She closed her eyes.
"Oliver, I like you. I'd like you to leave before that changes." By the time she opened her eyes I was gone.
Sixth year, She was drop dead gorgeous. But we didn't really speak until Christmas break. I stayed in order to practice and strategize. Slytherin had their fancy brooms. I needed to fight back with some serious fire power. Wandering through the corridors, I found her throwing a quaffle against the wall, singing 'Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here'. I joined her in the song and she tried to throw the quaffle past me but I was swift.
"Try Again." I tossed her the quaffle. She threw it. It almost went right past my ear. "Try again." This time she ran up the walls and shot the quaffle past me. It brushed my fingertips. "What was that?" She grinned.
"Defeat." I raised an eyebrow. And the devil herself walked towards me. Oh my. Had she gotten fit.
"You've bruised my ego." I said, in an attempt to make her laugh again. It worked.
"Would you like me to kiss it and make it all better?" Her comment caught me off guard, and that last thought that entered my head that night was this: 'Oh.' And then foolish me, I opened my mouth.
"If you would be so kind." I grabbed her waist, and she looked surprised. "Don't get all wide eyed, you made the offer." She looked deeply into my eyes and placed her thumb on my lower lip.
"I did, didn't I..." and then the next thing I knew, her lips were on mine. It was a passionate and messy kiss. Surely nothing to tell my mum about. She pushed me up against the corridor wall in a display of dominance. I placed my hands on her waist and flipped her against the wall. I pulled back and raised my eyebrow, challenging her, asserting dominance.
She rolled her eyes and grabbed my tie, pulling me back in, her lips crashing on to mine. Fireworks burst in my mind as raging hormonal teenage ecstasy washed over me. She loosened my tie and unbuttoned a few buttons. Her left hand slid onto my chest, as her right clawed at my back. She pulled me into her, and our bodies were pressed tightly against each other.
Yes, her body was perfect. I could feel her soft, plump, and perky breasts. I could feel her tight stomach, and as I slid my hand up her thigh, I could feel her strong legs, and then finally I rested my hand on her perfect arse. Men went to war over arses like hers. Our bodies finally in perfect compromising position, bodies pressed firmly against each other, her right hand clutching at the back of my shirt, the front of my shirt open, and my hand squeezing that perfect arse of hers, with her leg hooked around me, Professor Snape decided to make his debut.
Months of detention, points lost to Gryffindor, a letter to our parents and a chat with the headmaster about the birds and the bees later, Gryffindor lost the cup for the second time because of Maria Wadcock. The only virtue of the situation, was that it was all kept very secret.
This brings us to why I was pissed that I was in my current situation. I was almost late to the first potions class of my seventh year, and as I surveyed all my possible permanent seats for the year, I realized there was only one, and the caramel haired succubus was opposite of it.