"No, Diggory! You caught the snitch, fair and square!" The soft, Scottish accent of the Gryffindors' captain complained. He was still wearing his sporting robes, their red and gold colours contrasting greatly with those of the changing room's walls; a dark, brown colour, much like the rest of the castle.
The other boy, clad in a similar design, yet in canary yellow and black, stared back at the other Captain, his lips pursed slightly. "It was not a fair match, Wood. Potter fell. I'd be willing to have our team give yours a rema—"
"No!" Oliver exclaimed, his fingers twisting forcefully around the Quidditch armour he had removed from his forearms. The other teenager looked down at his feet, almost shyly, before he shook his head.
"Rematch. Tomorrow." He finally stated, then wandered out of the changing rooms, to return to his own team. Oliver stared back in disbelief. Did the Hufflepuff get a bludger to his head half way through that game or something? Standard Quidditch rules, Diggory caught it first; Potter fell from his broom; perfectly fair. But no, the idiot wanted a rematch, because he thought it seemed fit?! Outrageous!
Whilst he dwelled deeper and deeper into the rules, knocking his knuckles against his forehead multiple times in annoyance, the rest of the Lion-sporting team wandered in, catching sight of him. Their seeker, Harry, had been taken to the hospital wing to be taken care of, and they had planned to go and visit him whilst Madame Pomfrey worked her 'magic'; excuse the pun.
"Wood! You coming or what? It's not the end of the world!" The twins, Fred and George, chorused in unison, "We'll still get the cup before you leave." They assured their Captain. Oliver, however, barely felt like it were possible to regain that Cup; to see his name inscribed on its side.
Giving a sharp nod, he followed the team out, to give their seeker the results.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"Move! Right, Duck! Angelina, Shoot!" The Scots captain commanded, steering his broom around the three Quidditch hoops, though which he demanded his chasers to try and shoot the Quaffle through, whilst their Reserve Team's seeker steered around the pitch, trying desperately to catch the tiny, golden ball known as the Snitch. Harry had been given the all clear by the School Nurse, however she had made sure that he hadn't attended the day's training. Oliver had complained annoyedly about that, as their match was the next day, but he couldn't argue with her.
Scowling, he blew the whistle that hung from around his neck, noticing his team becoming fatigued. "All right; Hit the showers." He spoke loudly, the team groaning in relief at the thought, as they steered their brooms towards the changing rooms. Which, as per usual, left their captain to catch the Bludgers, Snitch and Quaffle, and replace them in the case. The whole ordeal took around 15 minutes, before he closed the case over, kneeling down, and resting his forehead against the Hogwarts crest that lay atop the box' lid. The cup would never, ever have his name on it. No team outside of the school would accept him as their Keeper. Maybe he should just let the Slytherins take his title again.
Hitting his forehead against the lid again, he groaned at the thought. If he lived for Quidditch, then what else was he supposed to do? Work in a muggle store? No. He was the /Gryffindor Captain/.
A low chuckle sounded from behind him, and at first he thought it was one of the twins returning to give him grief, but as he pulled his head back up, turning it to glare coldly, he was met with a different set of eyes, and a different coloured set of Quidditch robes. /No, he groaned.
"Doesn't that hurt?" The Hufflepuff asked, fixing the scarf around his neck, as the fog had started to settle in the cold. Oliver frowned, standing back to his feet, as he touched the small, red mark on his forehead.
"No, Not at all." He replied sourly, "Now, What do you want Diggory?" He asked, not actually wanting to converse all that much with the very reason for his team's downfall. Hufflepuff, the team that had managed to make a tradition of coming last in the Quidditch standings, had beaten his beloved Gryffindor, the best next to those bastards they knew as Slytherin. The other captain simply shrugged, his eyes fleeting over to the rest of his canary-coloured teammates, who were warming up with a simple game of Broom-Tag, which Cedric had allowed, as it helped them with evasiveness, yet allowed them to enjoy it at the same time.
"I was watching your team training," He finally replied, a Hufflepuff's kind smile curving his lips upward, his front teeth showing in the dim light. "Even without Harry, you're damn good." He commented, waving a hand for the Hufflepuff chasers to zoom towards the other side of the pitch above their heads. Oliver, politely, returned the smile, though it held little meaning.
"Cheers," He said lowly, watching the rather clumsy team fly around the pitch, their arms outstretched, grins etched onto their expressions, as they tried to touch each other's arms and bellow 'Tagged!' "What is the point in that?" The shorter of the two asked, raising a curious eyebrow, as he hid a slight wince at the slowly forming bruise.
"In our games?" Diggory replied, blinking his grey eyes. "You can push your team so far, Wood. If they don't enjoy themselves, what's the point?" He asked, his smile staying perfectly in place. Oliver shrugged slightly, not having anything to say to that. It was true, that ever since Cedric had been appointed to Hufflepuff's Captain, their team had begun to form winning strategies, actually putting up far more of a fight than they ever did. He wondered, vaguely, if this was why; their, seemingly unique, forms of training, and their honeyed words of encouragement to each other. His own eye flickered through the team, picking out the beaters and chasers he had seen from a few of their games, watching rather intently as they flew dangerously low, the tips of their toes almost touching their heads when they scooted past them.
"Why don't you join us?" The opposing captain suddenly asked, a grin forming on his expression, as he swung his legs over his broomstick, clutching the handle closely, as he awaited the Gryffindor's decision.
Oliver looked back at him, gobsmacked. He was literally asking him to join part of their training, if he could call it that.
Instantly, he shook his head, tapping his foot against the Quidditch ball box. "I'd rather not, Diggory. This is not my team to train with." He sniffed, watching the yellow-wearing captain snort, and leap into the air with his broom, circling in the air once, before he seemed to fly straight towards Oliver. Not understanding, Oliver jumped back, only to realise that the Captain, also their Seeker, had swooped down to grab Wood's broom, and tossed it into his waiting hands.
"Come on! Play with us!" One of the chasers asked, hovering just above them with one of the beaters, who nodded eagerly. Bloody Hufflepuffs. Giving in, he put his leg over the broom, and kicked off, the gold and red of his Quidditch robes flowing behind him as he flew upwards. Instantly, Cedric soared to other side of the pitch, hollering to the rest of the Hufflepuff team. Suddenly, one of the chasers collided with his side, their palm pushing him in the side.
"Oliver's the Chaser!" She announced with a laugh, swooping down and away from him. Wood was, quite frankly, confused by the whole thing. What part of Quidditch did this relate to, if any part at all? He didn't know, but the expectant faces of the team, beaming at him through their goggles, hovering at different points. It seemed that he'd be the easiest for them to fly from, due to his different coloured robes. He couldn't exactly hide, that was for certain. As he looked around, he could have sworn that Cedric was smirking.
Rolling his eyes, he shot forward in his broom, into a small group of the players. Each fo them suddenly burst into mocking laughs and shouts, ducking and diving out of his reach. Desperately, Oliver reached out every so often with his hand, only just managing to clutch onto the hem of their robes or such. He wasn't a seeker; he was a keeper. So, naturally, this was a little harder for him to do.
But, mercifully, the Hufflepuffs weren't known for being too speedy in their reactions, and he managed to grab the other Keeper's foot, exclaiming loudly in his triumph, "Go' ya'!" The smaller Keeper, a 4th year, instantly soared upwards, waving a hand, as the team suddenly flew away from him; Oliver included.
As he flew, the wind and moisture of the light fog blew against his cheeks, cooling them slightly, which was a rather good feeling, he supposed. Not only that, but he had started to vaguely understand why the Hufflepuffs never got much training done. Their hours on the pitch were, most likely, filled by doing /this/. Or, maybe Cedric was just being nice. God knows why.
And, at that moment, he could faintly hear the new 'chaser' exclaim "Diggory's it!" At that moment, a playful aura of panic struck over the team, including the Gryffindor. Cedric was a seeker. So, by nature, he was more skilled at catching up to them. Looking around the field, Oliver tried to make out the different names on the backs of their robes, squinting a little. It would have been far easier to do if he was familiar with their bodily shapes, like he was with his own team; but, alas, he tried to make them out this way.
His lips thinned for a moment, as he tried to make out where the players were flying away from, but they seemed to be flying in no order. Or, none until they all looked at him, their bright eyes hidden by the condensation forming in their goggles. Why were they wearing them, and the two captains weren't, anyway? They're in Hufflepuff, nothing makes sense, Wood reminded himself.
"Got you!" Somebody suddenly bellowed from behind him. Having little time to react, Oliver only just managed to turn his head, seeing the streak of black and yellow zoom towards him, their arms outstretched. The moron wasn't holding onto his broom! Had he learned nothing in training? Opening his mouth to yell at him, he felt his breath being forced out of his lungs due to the boy's solid palms pushing forcefully against his chest, gripping onto the front of his robes. Yet, due to his speed, he flew directly into him, forcing Oliver off balance. This reminded him of being hit by a human sized bludger.
"Cedric!" He bellowed angrily, felling his broom being torn from his hands and legs, his robes starting to collect around his thin body as the wind speed seemed to increase. Cedric's eyes widened, having literally leaped off of his broom to catch the opposing keeper, his form crashed against the other teen's chest. A look of panic swept over their faces, as the air released in a chorused loud gasp, followed by those of the Hufflepuff players, who tried to fly over.
Too late, Oliver would have bellowed, if he hadn't already crashed into the grass, his arms flat by his sides as he tried to inhale another, rather pained breath.
Cedric had it easier. He had a cushion. Apologies soon started to flood from his mouth, in true Hufflepuff style, his rather mature face stricken with worry, as he rolled off, kneeling at Oliver's side. "Oh, Crap! I didn't mean that! Wood? Wood, Honest!" He persisted to apologize, much to Oliver's annoyance. Yes, make it a much bigger scene than it really is. Trust you, Diggory. First you take out my Seeker, now this?
Oliver groaned, not wanting to sit up yet. It was only, by some freak part of the Yellow outfitted boy's panic, that his hand ended up on the Gryffindor's cheek.
Wood's hand shot up, smacking it away as he sat up finally. "I'm fine!" He snapped, a little quieter due to a slight bit pain from the fall. Cedric leaned back instantly, pink tints across his high cheekbones as he held his hand like a cat had scratched it.
"I really am sorry." He whispered, the Hufflepuff team starting to close around them, panic stricken almost. Oliver grumbled something inaudible, stood, and grabbed his broom that had landed to his side, and turned away, brushing his fingers over some of the new grass stains on his robes. Cedric watched him, his eyes filled with some pleading look for an acceptance to his apologies.
"Bring the Quidditch equipment back when you're done." Oliver said, rather bitterly, as he wandered away from the field, grumbling to himself, as the Hufflepuffs chatted to each other, asking Cedric what was wrong with him. Politely, Cedric just shrugged, and ordered his team to begin their proper training.
Curiously enough, Oliver's mind was left lingering. In some strange action, his fingers reached up, lightly touching his cheek, before it shot back down again, catching sight of a familiar Gryffindor seeker. He grinned, letting the light flush vanish, for the most part. He smirked.
The Hufflepuffs had no chance.