Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling :)
A/N: My friend Rachel has a freaky obsession with Sean Biggerstaff/Oliver Wood, so this fic is for her :) Enjoy, Rach!
Also, I posted this before and realized I'd spelled Puddlemere wrong...I was reading over GoF, and when Oliver came in saying he'd been accepted as a reserve, I realized my *teeeny little* mistake...I feel so stupid! Oh well...sorry :D It's corrected now. :) So enjoy, dear readers! (And hopefully reviewers....)
*Chapter One*
"All right, team, hit the showers!" Evan Hughes, the Puddlemere United reserve
team coach shouted. "Bloody brilliant practice today, keep it up!"
Nineteen year old Oliver Wood ran a hand through his damp brown hair and
wiped his brow with the navy blue sleeve of his robes. The team had been working extra
hard the last week, and while it was exhausting, Oliver still loved it. Quidditch gave him
a rush that nothing else could. His older sister, Callen, who he shared a flat with, had
been bugging him constantly about working so hard. "Oliver!" she said at least five times
an hour. "Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't simply died from exhaustion yet! I don't
think you should be working this hard! You ARE only on the reserve team, remember.
It's not as if you're going to be playing any games anytime soon."
Oliver didn't let this stop him, though. The Keeper for Puddlemere United, Caleb
McDermott, was rather old to be playing Quidditch, and he had started to develop severe
arthritis in his fingers. In fact, games kept being called off on account of him falling from
his broom and breaking a bone.
The Keeper position would be his soon enough, he was sure of it.
After a quick shower, he Apparated home to find Callen sitting at the kitchen
table. Her dark brown curls were pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her wire-rimmed
glasses were slipping down her nose as she read the piece of parchment in her hands.
"What is it?" Oliver asked curiously, walking over to where his sister sat.
"Oh...nothing you'll find interesting," Callen said, a teasing note in her voice. "It's
not as if it's about Quidditch or a certain retiring Keeper or-"
Oliver interrupted her by screaming out a joyous "YES!", scooping his sister up
from where she sat, and spinning her around the kitchen.
"Oliver!" she shrieked laughingly, "Put me DOWN!"
"Sorry," he apologized quickly, letting go of his sister. She pushed up her glasses,
straightened her hair, and smiled at him.
"I have to admit, I'm proud of you, Oli," she said. "I never thought it'd happen."
"Of course it would," Oliver grinned. "And don't call me that."
"Call you what, Oli?"
Normally, Oliver would have snapped at her, but at the moment he was too
overjoyed to even feel the slightest bit angry at his sister. He picked up the letter from the
table and read it. Sure enough, it read:
"Caleb McDermott, Puddlemere United Keeper for the last thirty years, has been
forced to retire due to a bad case of arthritis. You and two other Quidditch players are the
final three players we'd like to have the position. Please come to the Puddlemere Field
tomorrow at noon so we can observe you and decide who is best for the position.
Thank you,
Bryan Schafer
Puddlemere United Captain"
"Wow..." Oliver whispered. "I hope I get it..."
"Of course you will, Oli," Callen grinned. "You're the best and you know it, so
you might as well drop this modesty act."
"All right," Oliver smiled. "I'm brilliant. I'm GOING to get this."
"Of course you are," Callen said. "You know there's no one better."
~*~
The next morning, Oliver woke up smiling after eight hours of dreaming of
soaring through the sky, leading Puddlemere United to victory.
He eyed his alarm clock to discover that it was seven thirty-two. Oliver had
always been an early riser...his sister, on the other hand, refused to get out of bed before
eleven. He still had a bruise from the last time he'd tried to wake her at nine, so he'd
given up on that.
Still, he was almost positive that he heard someone awake in the kitchen. He
climbed out of bed, careful not to step on his sister's Kneazle, Athena, who had grown
accustom to sleeping next to his bed each night.
As he stepped into the hall, he was certain someone was up-he could hear a
female voice humming as she walked around the kitchen. He could smell coffee brewing
(his sister insisted that it tasted better when prepared the Muggle way, so they had a
coffee pot instead of making it magically).
"Callen?" he asked, his voice a bit raspy since he'd just woken. "Is that you?"
However, as he stepped into the kitchen, he discovered that it wasn't. Though the
girl's back was turned to him, it was obvious it wasn't his sister-her hair was straight,
went down to her waist, and was a shimmering shade of gold...not blonde, the hair color
the word gold was often used to describe, but true gold.
"This other team don't stand a chance, that fact is crystal clear, so beat back those
Bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here!" the girl sang in a confident, crystal clear
voice.
"Um..." Oliver said weakly. The girl still didn't notice him, and Oliver couldn't
help looking her up and down admiringly. Her night dress was rather short, and her long,
tanned legs were perfectly visible.
"Excuse me..." Oliver attempted weakly. "Um...miss."
"You know that we are gonna win, the crowd is gonna cheer, so beat back those
Bludgers boys, and chuck that Quaffle here!" the girl sang loudly as if she were
performing in a musical, outstretching her arms and shaking her hips slightly.
"Miss?! Miss!" Oliver exclaimed loudly.
The girl gasped and spun around, her hand at her heart.
"Who are you?!" she asked nervously.
"Oliver Wood," Oliver replied. "Who are...you?"
The girl didn't reply to his question. Instead she looked him over and smirked
openly. Oliver, suddenly feeling very self conscious and realizing that all he had on was a
pair of boxers, blushed and looked down at the floor.
"Oh, Oliver," she said. Her voice was almost irritatingly confident. "Callen's told
me about you. I thought you were younger."
"Um...well...I'm not," he said weakly.
"Obviously," she smirked.
"Erm...right," Oliver continued. "Uh...not to be rude or anything, but who are you
and...why are you standing in my kitchen in your pajamas?"
"Oh," she said with a smile. "I'm one of Callen's friends...Rachel Knight."
"You...um...oh," he said intelligently. "Why are you in our kitchen?"
"I'm staying here a while," Rachel replied.
Oliver looked around the kitchen to discover that she'd already very much made
herself at home. Magazines and books that hadn't been there before were strewn across
the kitchen counter, and a pair of jeans hung on the back of one chair, a sweatshirt on
another. Oliver was glad his sister was still sleeping. . .if she saw the mess, she would
probably pass out.
"You two weren't friends at Hogwarts, were you?" Oliver asked, then gave
himself a mental pat on the back for stringing together a somewhat coherent sentence. "I
don't remember ever meeting you."
He wanted to add that he definitely would have remembered if he had, but
thought that would be a bit straight forward.
"No, we were penpals, I went to Beauxbatons," Rachel said, flipping her hair over
her shoulder. The light from the window danced upon her mane, and Oliver found
himself not wanting to look away.
"Oh...so..." Oliver, feeling incredibly stupid, nervously tried to think of
something-anything!- to say.
"So..." Rachel repeated, amused.
"Um...when did you graduate from Beauxbatons?"
"Last year," Rachel said airily. Oliver would have been annoyed by her if she
wasn't so...nice to look at. She never seemed the least bit unconfident.
Probably because she's not GAWKING over me, he told himself.
"And you?" Rachel asked.
"Um....." Oliver tried desperately to remember when he graduated, "Oh yeah, two
years ago."
"Took you a while there, huh, buddy?" Rachel smirked.
"I'm...tired," Oliver said lamely.
"Really," Rachel said with a nod, "Thanks for clearing that up for me, I never
would have noticed."
Feeling VERY stupid, Oliver mumbled, "I'll just pour myself a cup of coffee,
shall I?"
He walked over to the Muggle coffee pot and conjured a mug out of thin air,
which fell to the ground and shattered.
"Damn!" he said under his breath, and Rachel let out a short laugh.
"Smooth," she praised him sarcastically. She picked up a wand off of the
magazine-covered counter, then conjured her own mug (which was a brilliant shade of
hot pink) and handed it to him with a smirk. He accepted the mug, his cheeks turning the
same shade as it, and walked out of the room, completely forgetting to pour himself some
coffee.
"Well, that went well," he muttered to himself. "I'm sure she's simply smitten with
me. I'll-"
Suddenly, he heard Athena let out a terrible yowl, and he realized that his feet
weren't on the ground anymore...without being able to even try to prevent the fall, he felt
his head slam against the floor and saw only black.
~*~
"Oli!"
Oliver groaned, not bothering to open his eyes. The throbbing in his head was too
much to bear, and he rather wished he could just pass out again. . .it was much more
comfortable.
"Oh, Oli, what HAPPENED?"
He moaned again.
"Oli...Oli, say something! Oli!"
With much difficulty, Oliver forced himself to open his eyes. Three of his sister,
her unruly curls falling in his face, were staring down at him in concern.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" all three Callens asked, panicked.
"Nine," he muttered.
"Oli!"
"Leemee alone," he muttered.
"Oh, get up, you twit," she exclaimed. "You're SCARING me...you aren't hurt that
badly are you, because you're supposed to be at the Quidditch field in four hours."
The three Callens immediately all joined to become one, and Oliver sat up.
"Four hours?!" Oliver asked weakly, knowing very well that he couldn't fly with
the horrible pains in his head.
"Four," Callen confirmed. Another Callen seemed to lean out from behind her,
threatening to double Oliver's vision.
"Oh, go away," he muttered to the second Callen.
"What?!" Callen asked, offended.
"Nothing...I was talking to the other Callen," he said stupidly.
"The other Callen?!" Callen exclaimed incredulously. "That's it, I'm calling a
doctor."
Normally Oliver would have argued (he hated doctors), but he HAD to be able to
try out for Quidditch! He NEEDED that position!
Callen rushed out of the hall, muttering under her breath.
"Cal, what happened?" Oliver heard Rachel ask.
"Oh, poor Oli tripped over Athena and hit his head," Callen explained worriedly.
Oh no, Oliver thought. Oli!? I cannot believe she told Rachel that....of all people...
"Oli, huh?" Oliver could practically HEAR Rachel smirking.
"Pet name," Callen said quickly. "Could you go check on him while I call the
doctor? Make sure he's still conscious."
"All right," Rachel said.
Oliver groaned to himself as Rachel's slender form appeared in the hallway,
sauntering slowly towards him.
"So, Oli got a booboo?" she said in an overly sympathetic, high-pitched voice.
"Shut up," Oliver mumbled.
"Now, now, now," Rachel chided with her signature smirk. "That's not the way to
treat a lady."
"Well, I'm sorry," Oliver snapped crossly. "I'm sure I'd be much more courteous if
I wasn't about to pass out."
"I'm not so sure about that," Rachel said, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
"Do you EVER shut up?" Oliver muttered.
"Oooh, not nice, Oli," Rachel said, her smirk returning. "You could really break
some hearts talking like that."
"I'm sure."
"Well, much as I adore these little moments and all, I have to go," Rachel said
airily. "I've got Quidditch tryouts at noon."
"Uh huh," Oliver groaned, then sat up abruptly when her words registered in his
mind. "What?! Quidditch tryouts?!"
"Yes, Quidditch tryouts," Rachel repeated slowly, as if she was talking to a three
year old. "For the Puddlemere United Keeper...so see you, Oli."
As she sauntered into the bathroom, Oliver moaned again. If Rachel was as good
at Quidditch as she was at making annoyingly witty little comments, he had some
competition.
Some MAJOR competition.
A/N: My friend Rachel has a freaky obsession with Sean Biggerstaff/Oliver Wood, so this fic is for her :) Enjoy, Rach!
Also, I posted this before and realized I'd spelled Puddlemere wrong...I was reading over GoF, and when Oliver came in saying he'd been accepted as a reserve, I realized my *teeeny little* mistake...I feel so stupid! Oh well...sorry :D It's corrected now. :) So enjoy, dear readers! (And hopefully reviewers....)
*Chapter One*
"All right, team, hit the showers!" Evan Hughes, the Puddlemere United reserve
team coach shouted. "Bloody brilliant practice today, keep it up!"
Nineteen year old Oliver Wood ran a hand through his damp brown hair and
wiped his brow with the navy blue sleeve of his robes. The team had been working extra
hard the last week, and while it was exhausting, Oliver still loved it. Quidditch gave him
a rush that nothing else could. His older sister, Callen, who he shared a flat with, had
been bugging him constantly about working so hard. "Oliver!" she said at least five times
an hour. "Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't simply died from exhaustion yet! I don't
think you should be working this hard! You ARE only on the reserve team, remember.
It's not as if you're going to be playing any games anytime soon."
Oliver didn't let this stop him, though. The Keeper for Puddlemere United, Caleb
McDermott, was rather old to be playing Quidditch, and he had started to develop severe
arthritis in his fingers. In fact, games kept being called off on account of him falling from
his broom and breaking a bone.
The Keeper position would be his soon enough, he was sure of it.
After a quick shower, he Apparated home to find Callen sitting at the kitchen
table. Her dark brown curls were pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her wire-rimmed
glasses were slipping down her nose as she read the piece of parchment in her hands.
"What is it?" Oliver asked curiously, walking over to where his sister sat.
"Oh...nothing you'll find interesting," Callen said, a teasing note in her voice. "It's
not as if it's about Quidditch or a certain retiring Keeper or-"
Oliver interrupted her by screaming out a joyous "YES!", scooping his sister up
from where she sat, and spinning her around the kitchen.
"Oliver!" she shrieked laughingly, "Put me DOWN!"
"Sorry," he apologized quickly, letting go of his sister. She pushed up her glasses,
straightened her hair, and smiled at him.
"I have to admit, I'm proud of you, Oli," she said. "I never thought it'd happen."
"Of course it would," Oliver grinned. "And don't call me that."
"Call you what, Oli?"
Normally, Oliver would have snapped at her, but at the moment he was too
overjoyed to even feel the slightest bit angry at his sister. He picked up the letter from the
table and read it. Sure enough, it read:
"Caleb McDermott, Puddlemere United Keeper for the last thirty years, has been
forced to retire due to a bad case of arthritis. You and two other Quidditch players are the
final three players we'd like to have the position. Please come to the Puddlemere Field
tomorrow at noon so we can observe you and decide who is best for the position.
Thank you,
Bryan Schafer
Puddlemere United Captain"
"Wow..." Oliver whispered. "I hope I get it..."
"Of course you will, Oli," Callen grinned. "You're the best and you know it, so
you might as well drop this modesty act."
"All right," Oliver smiled. "I'm brilliant. I'm GOING to get this."
"Of course you are," Callen said. "You know there's no one better."
~*~
The next morning, Oliver woke up smiling after eight hours of dreaming of
soaring through the sky, leading Puddlemere United to victory.
He eyed his alarm clock to discover that it was seven thirty-two. Oliver had
always been an early riser...his sister, on the other hand, refused to get out of bed before
eleven. He still had a bruise from the last time he'd tried to wake her at nine, so he'd
given up on that.
Still, he was almost positive that he heard someone awake in the kitchen. He
climbed out of bed, careful not to step on his sister's Kneazle, Athena, who had grown
accustom to sleeping next to his bed each night.
As he stepped into the hall, he was certain someone was up-he could hear a
female voice humming as she walked around the kitchen. He could smell coffee brewing
(his sister insisted that it tasted better when prepared the Muggle way, so they had a
coffee pot instead of making it magically).
"Callen?" he asked, his voice a bit raspy since he'd just woken. "Is that you?"
However, as he stepped into the kitchen, he discovered that it wasn't. Though the
girl's back was turned to him, it was obvious it wasn't his sister-her hair was straight,
went down to her waist, and was a shimmering shade of gold...not blonde, the hair color
the word gold was often used to describe, but true gold.
"This other team don't stand a chance, that fact is crystal clear, so beat back those
Bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here!" the girl sang in a confident, crystal clear
voice.
"Um..." Oliver said weakly. The girl still didn't notice him, and Oliver couldn't
help looking her up and down admiringly. Her night dress was rather short, and her long,
tanned legs were perfectly visible.
"Excuse me..." Oliver attempted weakly. "Um...miss."
"You know that we are gonna win, the crowd is gonna cheer, so beat back those
Bludgers boys, and chuck that Quaffle here!" the girl sang loudly as if she were
performing in a musical, outstretching her arms and shaking her hips slightly.
"Miss?! Miss!" Oliver exclaimed loudly.
The girl gasped and spun around, her hand at her heart.
"Who are you?!" she asked nervously.
"Oliver Wood," Oliver replied. "Who are...you?"
The girl didn't reply to his question. Instead she looked him over and smirked
openly. Oliver, suddenly feeling very self conscious and realizing that all he had on was a
pair of boxers, blushed and looked down at the floor.
"Oh, Oliver," she said. Her voice was almost irritatingly confident. "Callen's told
me about you. I thought you were younger."
"Um...well...I'm not," he said weakly.
"Obviously," she smirked.
"Erm...right," Oliver continued. "Uh...not to be rude or anything, but who are you
and...why are you standing in my kitchen in your pajamas?"
"Oh," she said with a smile. "I'm one of Callen's friends...Rachel Knight."
"You...um...oh," he said intelligently. "Why are you in our kitchen?"
"I'm staying here a while," Rachel replied.
Oliver looked around the kitchen to discover that she'd already very much made
herself at home. Magazines and books that hadn't been there before were strewn across
the kitchen counter, and a pair of jeans hung on the back of one chair, a sweatshirt on
another. Oliver was glad his sister was still sleeping. . .if she saw the mess, she would
probably pass out.
"You two weren't friends at Hogwarts, were you?" Oliver asked, then gave
himself a mental pat on the back for stringing together a somewhat coherent sentence. "I
don't remember ever meeting you."
He wanted to add that he definitely would have remembered if he had, but
thought that would be a bit straight forward.
"No, we were penpals, I went to Beauxbatons," Rachel said, flipping her hair over
her shoulder. The light from the window danced upon her mane, and Oliver found
himself not wanting to look away.
"Oh...so..." Oliver, feeling incredibly stupid, nervously tried to think of
something-anything!- to say.
"So..." Rachel repeated, amused.
"Um...when did you graduate from Beauxbatons?"
"Last year," Rachel said airily. Oliver would have been annoyed by her if she
wasn't so...nice to look at. She never seemed the least bit unconfident.
Probably because she's not GAWKING over me, he told himself.
"And you?" Rachel asked.
"Um....." Oliver tried desperately to remember when he graduated, "Oh yeah, two
years ago."
"Took you a while there, huh, buddy?" Rachel smirked.
"I'm...tired," Oliver said lamely.
"Really," Rachel said with a nod, "Thanks for clearing that up for me, I never
would have noticed."
Feeling VERY stupid, Oliver mumbled, "I'll just pour myself a cup of coffee,
shall I?"
He walked over to the Muggle coffee pot and conjured a mug out of thin air,
which fell to the ground and shattered.
"Damn!" he said under his breath, and Rachel let out a short laugh.
"Smooth," she praised him sarcastically. She picked up a wand off of the
magazine-covered counter, then conjured her own mug (which was a brilliant shade of
hot pink) and handed it to him with a smirk. He accepted the mug, his cheeks turning the
same shade as it, and walked out of the room, completely forgetting to pour himself some
coffee.
"Well, that went well," he muttered to himself. "I'm sure she's simply smitten with
me. I'll-"
Suddenly, he heard Athena let out a terrible yowl, and he realized that his feet
weren't on the ground anymore...without being able to even try to prevent the fall, he felt
his head slam against the floor and saw only black.
~*~
"Oli!"
Oliver groaned, not bothering to open his eyes. The throbbing in his head was too
much to bear, and he rather wished he could just pass out again. . .it was much more
comfortable.
"Oh, Oli, what HAPPENED?"
He moaned again.
"Oli...Oli, say something! Oli!"
With much difficulty, Oliver forced himself to open his eyes. Three of his sister,
her unruly curls falling in his face, were staring down at him in concern.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" all three Callens asked, panicked.
"Nine," he muttered.
"Oli!"
"Leemee alone," he muttered.
"Oh, get up, you twit," she exclaimed. "You're SCARING me...you aren't hurt that
badly are you, because you're supposed to be at the Quidditch field in four hours."
The three Callens immediately all joined to become one, and Oliver sat up.
"Four hours?!" Oliver asked weakly, knowing very well that he couldn't fly with
the horrible pains in his head.
"Four," Callen confirmed. Another Callen seemed to lean out from behind her,
threatening to double Oliver's vision.
"Oh, go away," he muttered to the second Callen.
"What?!" Callen asked, offended.
"Nothing...I was talking to the other Callen," he said stupidly.
"The other Callen?!" Callen exclaimed incredulously. "That's it, I'm calling a
doctor."
Normally Oliver would have argued (he hated doctors), but he HAD to be able to
try out for Quidditch! He NEEDED that position!
Callen rushed out of the hall, muttering under her breath.
"Cal, what happened?" Oliver heard Rachel ask.
"Oh, poor Oli tripped over Athena and hit his head," Callen explained worriedly.
Oh no, Oliver thought. Oli!? I cannot believe she told Rachel that....of all people...
"Oli, huh?" Oliver could practically HEAR Rachel smirking.
"Pet name," Callen said quickly. "Could you go check on him while I call the
doctor? Make sure he's still conscious."
"All right," Rachel said.
Oliver groaned to himself as Rachel's slender form appeared in the hallway,
sauntering slowly towards him.
"So, Oli got a booboo?" she said in an overly sympathetic, high-pitched voice.
"Shut up," Oliver mumbled.
"Now, now, now," Rachel chided with her signature smirk. "That's not the way to
treat a lady."
"Well, I'm sorry," Oliver snapped crossly. "I'm sure I'd be much more courteous if
I wasn't about to pass out."
"I'm not so sure about that," Rachel said, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
"Do you EVER shut up?" Oliver muttered.
"Oooh, not nice, Oli," Rachel said, her smirk returning. "You could really break
some hearts talking like that."
"I'm sure."
"Well, much as I adore these little moments and all, I have to go," Rachel said
airily. "I've got Quidditch tryouts at noon."
"Uh huh," Oliver groaned, then sat up abruptly when her words registered in his
mind. "What?! Quidditch tryouts?!"
"Yes, Quidditch tryouts," Rachel repeated slowly, as if she was talking to a three
year old. "For the Puddlemere United Keeper...so see you, Oli."
As she sauntered into the bathroom, Oliver moaned again. If Rachel was as good
at Quidditch as she was at making annoyingly witty little comments, he had some
competition.
Some MAJOR competition.