So, I can't actually believe I have wrote this and am actually posting, but you can blame Syd. She told me about a Gif and it spiralled. So, yeah. Enjoy, and please don't flame too much for the stupidity and genius that is Oliver/Quidditch Pitch :D

The First Is Always The Most Special

He walks around, tear's streaming down his face. He doesn't know how to tell it that he's leaving it behind, how to tell it he'll never play with it again, that he'll never guard it's hoops protectively, that he'll never defend it with his life again. It's been a part of his life for seven years, he's grown more attached than he thought possible.

When he was a little second year student, so excited to be allowed to use it, to practice on it, to practically live on it, he never imagined how upset he would be to leave it behind. He was moving onto a bigger, better one, and he knew he should be excited about that, but as everyone knows, the first is always the most special.

He summoned his broom, knowing he had to have one last session, knowing he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't. He flew around, before stopping in front of the hoops that meant so much to him. He caressed the middle one lovingly. It had always been his favorite. Charming a quaffle, he spent an hour doing what he enjoyed most, defending his hoops from danger.

The time passed quickly, too quickly, and it was soon too dark to continue. He flew to the ground, but instead of heading inside to the warmth, he sat down on the damp grass. He loved the feel of it, had spent many a night sitting out here, watching the stars.

The thought suddenly dawned on him that the end of his longest relationship was about to come to an end. Standing, he stared out over the quidditch pitch, a sad smile on his face.

"I'll miss you, you'll always be the best to me," he whispered into the night. He knew, someday in the future, he would visit, and the Pitch would welcome him home.