How to train your Veela (or the continuing adventures of Mr Oliver Wood)
I am fully in admittance that this is an utter crack fic, on the otherhand Sean Biggerstaff is very attractive and well deserving of a pack of veela. Period.
P.S I own nothing a merely mess around with JK Rowling's creation
Oliver Wood aged 26 was sat in the bar of the Hogs Head drinking fire whiskey from one of Aberforth's exceptionally dirty shot glasses. Aberforth was stood behind his till polishing a grubby metal tankard, glaring at a couple in the corner of the pub who were being hit over the head by a shower of malevolent sickles from the "Yes I'm Albus Dumbledore's brother, stop going on about it for Merlin's sake" Jar which had been inaugurated due to Aberforth becoming increasingly irritated with the comments of "Well why didn't you tell us you were related" that had come during the two years following the war. However there had been a rather delightful comment from Rabstan Lestrange at his re-trial for escaping Azkaban, use of the imperious curse and generally being a death eater of "The Goaty Barman's Dumbledore's brother? No wonder we screwed up" Yeah, forget the contributions of the late Harry Potter, Severus Snape and indeed Albus Dumbledore. In the opinion of the death eater's the real reason for their defeat was that Aberforth achieved nothing in life in comparison to Albus and therefore he was forgettable.
Oliver sympathised, sure he was supposedly a "national hero" but for Merlin's sake, he had been interviewed once whereas both The prophet and The Quibbler constantly ran articles on the continued "loss" of Harry Potter, the tragic hero and the lifetime devoted to ten pin bowling, muggle knitting patterns and defeating the dark side of Albus Dumbledore (although only The Quibbler had mentioned the first two) and even more alarmingly Witch Weekly ran regular features on Severus "Mr Sexy" Snape which regularly included some teenage witch proclaiming that detention with the Potion's master was the best night of her life and bi-weekly features by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin trying to reason the fact that Lily was not a horridious man-stealing whore just because Snape loved her. Oliver was jealous and he fully admitted the fact, all those beautiful teenage girls madly in love with a dead bat when Quiddich Studs like him were around.
Oliver was musing this point, swishing his eighth whiskey around his glass, when twelve figures entered the pub, as they approached the bar they dropped back their hoods and revealed themselves to be twelve extremely beautiful women. "Excuse me...but I theenk that we are lost. You see we are heere to viseet our cousin Fleur." Aberforth grunted "Bloody French" and continued polishing the tankard. Oliver turned aroundon his stool, "I'm afraid you're in the wrong part of the country, Bill and Fleur live down on the south coast of England rather than up here in Scotland."
"Ah", exclaimed one of the women with a shake of her beautiful head, "Zat is terrible, but you know my cousin?"
Oliver seeing a golden opportunity grasped it firmly, "I don't know Fleur so well but Bill's brother Percy and I were reasonably good mates at school"
The Beautiful woman's face lit up, "Then, Mon Ami, you can tell us where to go?"
Oliver smirked, "Sure, but do you want to get dried up before you floo there, I know that such beautiful girls like yourselves will want to be looking your best, I'm sure Aberforth has a room that I can hire for you so that you can sort yourselves out"
Her eyebrows raised, she looked the buff Keeper over licking her lips, sensuously before saying "That is very kind of you Monsieur"
They had been gone for ten minutes before, Aberforth came back in from upstairs, "Oliver they're requesting you apparently their having trouble with the zips on the back of their dresses. Swallowing and hoping that his Firebolt didn't become a Shooting Star too soon, Oliver made his way up the stairs, knocked and went in. All twelve of them were fully dressed, "Ah merci Oliver, you see, we would like some help," as she spoke she advanced on him, "Getting back out of our dresses"
Two extremely vigorous hours later, the women who Oliver had pleasurably learned were between the ages of 19 and 25 and were called Aurelie, Nathalie, Mathilde, Colette, Chantal, Eleonore, Helene, Ines, Jeanne (who was the apparent spokesperson for the group), Manon, Oceane and Marianne had flooed with him to Shell Cottage where they had all graciously bid him "Au revoir Oliver" with a demand that he collect them the next day for a full cultural tour of wizarding britain. "Well Monsieur, we are young beautiful women and I'm sure zat it would be better zat we 'ad a protector in zhis foreign country"
Oliver couldn't believe his luck, first he'd had mind blowing sex with twelve extremely attractive Veela Weasley in-laws who wanted to see him again. He had been up at five ensured that he was clean, odor-free, sobor and prepared for a potentially...challenging day.
The Day had gone swimmingly well despite an encounter with Draco Malfoy who Colette had insited was her long lost brother stolen in infancy despite Narcissa Malfoy's repeated loud exclamations that Draco had been born on the 4th June 1980 in the Main Suite in Malfoy manor at 11.30 in the morning weighing 7lbs and 6ozs. After a lovely dinner that had gained the jealous glare of every male in the resteraunt minus Remus Lupin who was too preoccupied with Bellatrix and Tonks eating strawberries to care.
Returning them to Shell Cottage he bid them goodnight, enquring wether they would be able to come to his Quiddich match verses the Caerphilly Caterpillers that saturday. All twelve of them agreed saying au revoir in their own style with rather a lot of stunning kissing.
That Saturday dawned bright and early and Oliver quickly showered and apparated to the pitch to change into his Quiddich robes and warmed up with the rest of his team, ignoring the comments of "Sure you've got enough Stamina for todays match Wood?" "You're surname's got you covered hasn't it then?" When Oliver sometimes said that he had heard every joke about his name he was serious, not Sirius, although the black heir had once asked if he could swap surnames just to see what the reaction would be from women.
It was time for kick off and Oliver soared off into the air, stopping at a hover infront of the three massive hoops, all of his focus was on the game, winning was the only option. The Game lasted for two hours Oliver saving every Quaffle that came his way. As the Snitch was caught by Alice Parker, the Puddlemere seeker, the crowd went wild as Oliver finally stopped concentrating intently on the match, he saw in the front row of the stands a dozen beautiful women wearing puddlemere strip coloured croptops and miniskirts all with "We love you Oliver" written in sequins across their breasts.
Oliver Wood aged 26 had officially bagged himself a pack of veela.