Quidditch had always been his life as far back as he could remember. At a very young age Oliver's parents had purchased for him a little green and blue toy broom, on of those ones that only flew a foot and a half off of the floor, only high enough that his toes hung just off the surface of the hardwood of their home. It had been love at first site, well almost. For a first few days after they had introduced him to the concept of flying Oliver had been quite wary about the art of hovering above the ground with nothing to hold him up. However, in time, in his little toddler mind, he had come to the conclusion that he might as well try it, after all his parents had never put him in any sort of danger before so they might not be trying to kill him after all.
Oliver Wood's first time on a broom, though only a toy broom, was one he would never forget. He had very cautiously thrown a leg across the wooden commodity, standing up on his tip toes as though hoping never to actually lose contact with the floor, and stood like that for a very long time. Despite encouraging words from his parents who sat on their navy blue sofa against a crème colored wall, Oliver took his own sweet time before he pushed off the ground. Immediately he regretted the decision as he felt utterly and completely helpless and started screaming at the top of his lungs. The broom, misreading the signals sent by his jerking body, went crazy and he ended up speeding directly into the wall just to the left of the sofa his allegedly loving parents were seated on.
After a trip to St. Mungos and a diagnosis of a concussion his parents dutifully stored the toy broom in the closet beside the back door, certain he would never want anything to do with it again. And he didn't, at least not for a few more days. But then Oliver became curious again. He had seen other children master the art of flying without having to be rushed to the Hospital, and he had seen his father flying at one time or another at a family party, so why shouldn't he be able to? And so, the curious little three year old opened the door to the closet one day and entered into a staring contest with the multicolored piece of wood, determined to beat it.
His mother watched silently from her place at the kitchen sink while he hauled the broom into the living room and mounted it, much more confidant this time around despite the outcome of his last attempt. Without pausing this time he pushed himself off the ground and soon there were giggles and cries of glee as he sped around the room. At first he would just go in straight lines for a bit and then touch down again before repeating the process, but as he got more accustomed to it he began to manipulate the broom around pieces of furniture and even through other parts of the house. That was only the beginning.
Once he made friends with flying hardly a day went by that Oliver did not fly on his little broom. As he was constantly growing as a child, his parents would every so often trade in his current broom for a larger size. At the age of eight he finally was given for his birthday his very own adult sized broom. It was still rather large for him but by that time he had begun to follow professional teams and it was one of the simplest models he had seen used so he was beside himself with excitement and willing to wait to be able to grow into it.
The fact that first years were not allowed their own brooms at school was a big drawback for Oliver and he was quite bitter about it his entire first year at Hogwarts. But that didn't stop him. Every day he would trek out to the broom shed, whatever the weather, and retrieve one of the school's brooms and go flying. It didn't matter to him that the models in the broom shed were not as up to par as his own, all that mattered was that he was flying. Sometimes the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, who was amazed at how dedicated he was at such a small age, would allow him to come to their practices and retrieve balls when they got out of control or get the team members water as need be. He became the unofficial water boy, a title he was very proud of.
Throughout Hogwarts everyone came to know that although quidditch was a big deal to almost everyone in the castle, to Oliver Wood it was life. His second year he joined the team as a chaser and by his fourth year he had been promoted to keeper. After the title of captain was passed between three different people since his arrival at the school it finally came to rest on him. He was so pleased and ecstatic as he knew that it meant the most to him. And as they acquired Harry Potter they were finally winning games and the Cup, and Oliver couldn't be more proud of his little team.
After graduation he had gone on to play for Puddlemere United, the Reserve team to be more specific. It wasn't ideal but it was a start. His parents could not have been happier. They had always been so supportive over the years, he couldn't have asked for a better family. A few times he had gone back to Hogwarts to watch a game, check in with his old team. The last one he went to was the year Harry was made captain and admitted Ginerva and Ron Weasley onto the team. Oliver was interested to see how Harry's best mate fared at playing his old position as the Gryffindor Keeper and found himself pleasantly surprised. What also surprised him was the fact that he hardly recognized Ginerva.
During school he had never really lent his mind to anything but quidditch. Dating hadn't really been something he had pursued as he knew he would have plenty of time to find the one he was in love with once he had become too old to play quidditch which usually came to a player around age twenty eight when they began to be replaced by younger models with all the new moves. Several times girls on the Gryffindor team had expressed interest with him but at the time he had either been too daft to realize they had been flirting with him or else deemed himself too busy with the sport to possibly consider spending any time on them. And so he had lived his life very much alone, but he didn't mind that much.
Ginerva he had been aware of during his school years as Fred and George's baby sister, the girl who had been possessed by the Dark Lord in her second year and forced to open the chamber of secrets. But, before he realized who it was as he sat in the stands watching the game he had come to see, Oliver had been wondering how he had missed the lovely redhead who was maneuvering the Quaffle so skillfully down the pitch, and why hadn't he put her on his own team? Not that he would have traded Angelina, Alicia, and Katie for the world. They were the best, and he knew it. It had always been a mystery to him why they hadn't pursued quidditch as a career as he had. They could have made it very far, especially on teams that were all women.
He learned a few months later that Ginny and Harry had finally begun to date, something everyone had seen coming for years. Everyone, apparently, but him. Oliver began to realize just how ignorant and focused he had been during school and it saddened him a bit. When he would think about it he would realize how very little contact he had with anyone he had been at school with. Yes, of course, every once in awhile he would run into someone while in Diagon Alley or a school mate would come to one of his Quidditch games, but other than that he was still very much alone. For the first time in his life Oliver was beginning to feel like he had missed out on living.
Once the War came back in full force his fifth year out of school, Oliver's parents decided to relocate until things were under control. They implored him to come with them to Australia where they had relatives they planned on staying with, but he felt he was needed where he was and decided to stay in his flat in London that he shared with a teammate named Raul whom he didn't see much of.
On a snow day in December, Oliver was making his way through diagon Alley. He had just purchased a new quick quill for his mother. She had heard once that Rita Skeeter used them during interviews and as she liked to talk to herself and take notes she found them very useful. The one she'd had when his parents moved away had been running slower than ever and so he had decided to send one to her, along with his love and well wishes for the holidays. The one he had picked out was a deep purple, her favorite color, with a flower coming out of the end of it. That would make he smile, he was sure, and he loved it when his mother smiled.
He must not have been paying much attention to where he was walking or else was blinded by the white fluff falling continuously from the sky, as he soon found himself running directly into a figure whose hood was pulled up tight on their head, so tight in fact he wasn't sure whether it was a man or a woman. But his theories didn't mean much as a voice that seemed quite angrier than it should be came biting out from under the hood in just a moment after contact, assuring him it was a woman hiding under there. "Oi, watch it will you?"
"Excuse me, I'm very sorry, I didn't mean any harm." Oliver smiled slightly, although he knew the shrouded figure wouldn't be able to see his facial gesture due to their clothing and the snow surrounding them.
He was surprised when the woman didn't just push past him and continue on her way. Instead, her head came up and though he couldn't see through the snow to the face encased by the hood of her jacket, he could tell by the sound of her voice she was no longer angry at him. "Oliver?"
As though by magic, the snow storm chose that moment to calm for just a moment, just long enough for him to catch site of a set of brown eyes and a few strands of red hair that had escaped the protection of Ginny Weasley's cocoon of clothing. "Ginny? But I thought your entire family was in hiding…" It was true, Oliver hadn't heard of any of the Weasley's being out and about since Bill's wedding, which Oliver had heard had ended disastrously. Even Fred and George had closed up shop, he'd just walked past their previously booming business which was currently the picture of abandonment. He was talking rather loudly in order to be heard over the storm around them, the rushing wind specifically, but he wasn't worried about being overheard really because he had hardly been able to hear her saying his name moments prior.
As though reading his mind about being unable to hear or see each other, Ginny reached out and a gloved hand took hold of one of his sleeves, leading him to the side of a building. They entered an alley between the old Ice cream Parlor and a magical Pet Shop and the wind was cut off, allowing him a better view of her as she lowered her hood after checking that the coast was clear. Her usually pale cheeks were flushed from the cold and there were a few snowflakes melting amidst the red strands atop her head. She looked quite worn which Oliver could understand due to what he had heard was going on at Hogwarts now that Severus Snape was in charge and Carrows were teaching. Part of him felt like he should whisk the younger girl away and hide he somewhere where they couldn't hurt her anymore but he knew that her family was probably doing that. But then what was she doing out here alone on a day like this? She seemed much more occupied in checking the ally for spies and looking over her shoulder every few moments than answering him though. And so he repeated himself. "Ginny, what are you doing out here alone? It's not safe."
Her eyes met his in an instant. Although the snowfall was much lighter in this area some flakes still fell through his view as he looked down at her. She looked so much older than he remembered her to be. Of course she'd only been a young witch of twelve when he had left school and was bound to have grown some since then, but he had just seen her the year before looking as youthful and full of life as ever upon that broomstick of hers. Now, however, she looked like a miniature version of her mother whom Oliver had met at Hogwarts when she had come for a visit once, most likely to reprimand the twins about something as they were always getting into trouble. Again as she looked into her eyes full of fear and something that looked like desperation, Oliver wanted to take her in his arms and treat her as his own sister but for some reason he was having a hard time thinking of her as a sister with how lovely she looked the more snow found its way into her red tendrils.
"I need to know where they are, Oliver. I…I just need to know…." It didn't take more than a moment for Oliver to comprehend who it was she was talking about. Of course she would be worried about where her brother and his friends were. Oliver had never known the connection of having a sibling as his parents had been unable to have children after him but he could only imagine what it would be like to have someone who'd been around your entire life disappear like this. "I knew they'd never be in diagon alley but I just thought….I just had be sure…" She was crying now and Oliver found himself thinking about how frozen her face must feel with rivers of moisture forming themselves upon her skin.
The need to say something to comfort her was great but he didn't know what he could possibly say that would be very helpful. It was in a way the way a person feels with someone they know has lost a loved one. Of course you want to offer your sympathies but nothing ever really helps, it just reminds them of what they're missing. He could very easily say he was sorry and that he was sure Ron would return to her unharmed but he knew it wouldn't help her state of mind. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't entirely sure that was true. With the way things were going it was very possible she would never see her brother again.
All of a sudden he found himself being run into as she clutched at the front of his jacket and buried her face in it. He wasn't sure what to do and so simply stood stalk still as he felt and heard her sobbing into the fabric. There was an urge to reach forward and pat her on the back and hold her to him but he felt as though that would be inappropriate. But then, wasn't it also inappropriate to seize someone's clothing and plunge a tear stained face into them? Oliver couldn't fathom why she had chosen him to break down to. A thought came to him. Perhaps it was one of those situations where she couldn't break down at home because it would upset the rest of the family, and seeing a friendly face had merely brought it out in her? Maybe…
The sobs from somewhere below his chin had subsided now and there was just a dull shake every now and again as she shivered in the cold. That's what finally did it, he reached out his arms and snaked them around her, holding her tiny form to him. If anyone happened upon them and asked what he was doing he would simply claim to be attempting to keep her warm. However, he couldn't deny the fact that holding her felt rather nice and the scent that was wafting towards him from her hair was making him feel as though the cold that surrounded them was ions away.
"I kissed him before he left. In my room. I told him to remember me and I kissed him." She was talking about Harry now. Or at least Oliver hoped she was talking about Harry because he wasn't sure how he would feel if it turned out she was talking about Ron. "And he didn't even bloody say anything to me. He just left. No 'I love you' no nothing. The wedding reception was infiltrated and the Ministry fell and all I wanted was to be near him and feel safe and he was just…gone…He forgot me." Yet again it occurred to Oliver how ridiculous it was that she was confiding in him. If this wasn't the first time they had ever spoken he was sure they'd never said more than a sentence to each other and only in passing. But, in times like these, he supposed it was now or never in terms of letting out your feelings.
She pulled back from him then, reaching up with a gloved hand to wipe the tear tracks from her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy now and the brown sparkled with the tears still threatening to fall. "I'm sorry. I don't want to bother you with my problems." She offered him a slight smile, but it was a broken thing, something someone forms when they don't want you to know how truly ruined they are. As an after thought, to herself she muttered "I don't think he even loved me." And though she said it low and he was sure she didn't mean for him to hear it, he had.
"Ginny, I know I don't know you very well…well at all…and I certainly don't know anything about you and Harry's….er…well you and Harry….but I'm sure he just thought he was doing what was best for you." He offered her a warm smile, glad when her own became a bit more believable though he could tell she still thought him insane. "And I'm sure when the time is right they'll let you know where they are…" He wasn't sure that was true but he wanted to offer at least some words of condolence, she just looked so sad there in front of him.
A gloved hand came out and gripped at one of his frozen ones. He hadn't even noticed how cold they had gotten while they stood there in the empty alley. "You're very sweet Oliver. But…" She looked away from him and sighed. "I should have known better than to think I was enough to keep someone like Harry from running of on a crazy adventure."
He didn't know what to say. There was no way he could know Harry's motives for running off and leaving her behind, no one knew why he had disappeared other than the fact the Dark Lord wanted him dead. But he was sure it wasn't because Ginny wasn't enough for him, how could that possibly be true? Then without thinking he heard himself speak again. "Ginny, any man would be lucky to have a woman like you love them as much as it sounds like you love Harry…"
Immediately he knew it wasn't his place to have said something like that. It was definitely not like him to say something so forward, so blunt, so full of forbidden implications. He had said 'a woman like you' but she stood before him no older than sixteen, still in school, hardly through her OWL exams. But he knew she was as much a woman as a female of his age, she had lived through more than most women twice her age had.
The way she was looking at him now confused him. She was peering at him through narrowed eyes as though trying to decide whether he was being truthful or not, or whether he had meant what he said. Another tear spilled over the brim of her eyes and he saw her torso heave in a sigh through her coat. And then something odd happened, something he had not been expecting. She took a step towards him and before he had time to react she had pressed her thin, cold lips against his own.
Oliver was too stunned to move, merely stood there with his eyes open as she pressed her lips against his once…twice… three times. The third time she lingered there, a gloved hand on either side of his face as her mouth was pressed firmly to his. But then all at once she leapt back from him, eyes wide and frightened. She backed away a few steps and shook her head, tears spilling again. "I'm sorry Oliver, I'm so sorry. I never should have…I'm sorry."
And then she was gone, her hood was up and she was running away from him into the snow storm they had left out in the main street before he had a chance to process what had just happened. It was all very puzzling. One moment she was crying about Harry Potter not loving her and the next she had kissed him. Oliver had no idea what to think. But something had changed, something he wouldn't realize for a while yet. As he stood there in that alley staring at the place the girl with the wild red hair and the bright brown eyes had stood moments before Oliver Wood was oblivious to the fact he had just fallen in love with the youngest Weasley.