Written for the June Monthly Pride Month challenge over at HSoW&W

Pairing: FredOliver

Word count will be at end.

The first time Oliver Wood had met Fred Weasley was when he had been holding Quidditch tryouts for the year. Sure, he had seen the younger Gryffindor around, like in the common room or in between going to classes, but he never really talked to him.

So when he was outside, standing in front of the boys and girls, both older and younger, looking over the list, he spotted the name Fred Weasley. He hadn't known the younger Weasley would be trying out, even though he knew he that the red-head loved Quidditch like his twin did. He looked over to where it read Beater: Tryout next to it, his twin's name below it with the same words.

So, the Weasley twins wanted to be Beaters. He wondered if they would be good.

Tryouts started, names were called, quaffles were thrown, bludgers were beaten, and names were crossed out.

Chasers were done and over with, Oliver having chosen the ones he wanted, before he began with Beaters.

When he called the Weasley twins, they grinned at each other and gave a thumbs up. They jogged over to him, brooms in hand, and listened as he said, "Once the both of you are in the air, I'll let the bludgers loose. You got the bats?"

They held the bats up with grins.

"Right. You ready? Go!"

They lifted off into the air just as he let the bludgers loose. One twin knocked a bludgers towards the other one, who hit it as hard as he could in the opposite direction. Another bludger flew towards the other twin, who ducked and hit it at the same time. It went on like that for a while, the two of them hitting the bludgers, sometimes in sync, sometimes not.

Oliver blew the whistle and they landed back on the ground.

He wrestled the bludgers back into the case, locking them in before turning to the twins. He had a grin on his face. "You two," he said, "were great."

"Thanks," one twin replied.

"A lot," the other one finished.

"No problem. Now, which one of you is Fred and which one is George?"

"I'm Fred," the right one said.

"And I'm George," the left one said.

"But you can call us Forge and Gred!" they ended.

He hummed. He didn't think practices would ever be boring with them around.

It's probably around his fifth year, the year Harry Potter arrives and is sorted into Gryffindor House (Gryffindor House, he marvels to himself) that he realizes that he might like Fred Weasley. He'd thought about it, of course, when he always got shy and would usually stutter over his words around the ginger.

He would watch as the ginger would talk with Potter, helping him with class work he didn't understand or teaching him Exploding Snap, watching as those eyes would light up. As that fond smile (oh, how he wished that smile was aimed at him) would spread across his face. His excitement when talking about his experiments with potions and pranking products he and his twin worked on.

So when Gryffindor won the match against Slytherin, courtesy of Potter (the best bloodiest Seeker ever, mind you), Oliver watched as Fred wrapped the younger in a hug and cheered.

While the party in Gryffindor House was going on, he left the common room to look for Fred, who had left for his dorm earlier to get some prank candies he and his brother and created. He stood outside the door, reading the plaque that had Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Lee Jordan on it. Raising a hand, he knocked and waited.

The door opened and the ginger popped his head out. "Oh, hi Oliver!" the younger exclaimed. "What is it you need?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "I was wondering if I could talk to you," he said. "I mean, if you don't mind."

The ginger laughed. "Oliver, I don't mind." He opened the door more and leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "Now, what is it?"

He was quiet for a second before he whispered, "I like you."

"What?"

Clearing his throat, he said louder, "Fred Weasley, I like you."

"What?"

He looked up and saw the ginger was gapping at him. "I like you," he repeated again. "A lot, to be honest."

"You like me?"

"Yeah. What's there not to like?"

"Uh, the fact that I'm a troublemaker? Or that I'm not that handsome? Or smart?"

Oliver grabbed Fred's face in his hands, staring down into those eyes that dragged him in like a whirlpool. "You are all of those things," he whispered. "All of that and more."

And then he kissed him.

[word count: 785]