A/N: House: Ravenclaw
Catagory: Drabble
prompt : Bad Sportsmanship
Word Count: 533
There was a reason why Oliver loved going against the Slytherin team. It was not only because of the House rivalry but his own petty rivalry. They owed him. Big time.
Last year, Oliver Wood came out as gay. To some it was a surprise, to others it was very few people knew who had helped him realise it.
Marcus Flint. Tanned, tall, the Slytherin chaser and captain.
To a lot of people, Marcus was a bully and nothing more, but to Oliver, he was different. Maybe it was just the rush he got as they flew after each other on the playing field, but Oliver saw his snide remarks as not quite insults, more as friendly competition. Oliver even considered them friends. Maybe even more after all those times spent hidden away in the changing rooms after practice. Hidden, where no one could find them he'd maybe consider them something more.
That was until Marcus had played dirty to win the House Cup and ruined any chance they'd ever had of being lovers.
Oliver had caught the quaffle, fair and square, intercepted it as it was being passed between Marcus and one of the other chasers near the hoops of the Gryffindor goals. Oliver had even winked at him when he soared past, a little jibe telling the other boy to up his game.
The wind flew through Oliver's hair as he rose up above the stadium, searching the skies for another Gryffindor to pass to. He dodged around the Slytherin players effortlessly, weaving between the Slytherins with ease, until..."
THWACK!
The stick of a beater smashed into Oliver's ribs and the air was knocked out of him. He fell off the broom, the quaffle tumbled from under his arm as all he felt was the pain in his side as gravity pulled him the 40 feet to the ground below.
He heard the sickening crunch of bones breaking as he hit the floor, white-hot pain shot through his body as he lay crumpled on the damp grass.
What he saw when he lay there, broken and bruised on the ground, hurt more than any physical injury. He saw Marcus, the boy he thought loved him, the boy Oliver had risked everything for, risked revealing his true identity to the world for, laughing and high-fiving his team-mates.
It shattered him, broke his heart in two. The tears started falling and he tried to brush them away, tried to pretend it was his wounds causing him pain. Only when he met the steely, grey eyes he had come to love did he let the barrier fall. He released all the anger and hurt, all the pain, that he was feeling and poured it into one, single look. To his surprise he saw the other boys smile falter and he shrugged almost as if he was apologising, but Oliver would not forget and he would certainly not forgive.
That was the real reason why when Harry won them the first match against Slytherins, he had never felt so devilishly proud. In all honesty, Oliver never really believed much of the stories but maybe, just maybe that boy really was the Chosen One
