Rating : PG-13 for language and soon-to-come obsession and stalking and such.
Note : I don't own any HP stuff, although sometimes I wish I did, J.K Rowling rocks socks. And this has inspiration from the movie Fear so that doesn't belong to me either but I like the idea.
Another Note : I'd really appreciate all feedback because that's what keeps me writing. I love comments ^-^ and I'd really hope you like it enough to read the upcoming chapters.
Dear Harry,
How are you old friend? I haven't seen you in what, a year? Maybe more!
I was just thinking about you earlier today when I was buying another broomstick. Mine broke in a freak accident, damn lousy cheap broomsticks.
I need to take a class on saving my money because I'm not doing very well at it. I'm always breaking my broomsticks and such. I'm nineteen, a handsome quidditch player, and the girls still aren't flocking around me! I just don't understand it. Any advice would be welcome.
This is your fifth year at Hogwarts, huh? Hmm, growing up awful fast aren't we?
You know I've been trying to get on a professional quidditch team and it's a hell of a lot harder than I'd ever thought. I'm sure I'll prevail but sometimes I doubt myself. Quidditch is my life, my blood, my soul. I don't know what I'd do without it. Boy, look at the time!
Well, Harry, write my back just to chat. I'll be anxious to hear from you.
Oliver Wood
P.S. How's the quidditch team doing without me?
Harry grinned at the letter his owl, Hedwig, had just brought him. He was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the main dinning hall. The breakfast was delicious, as always, and he was almost finished when his snowy owl had brought him the letter.
"Who's that from, Harry?" Hermione Granger asked. She sat directly in front of him, still eating her breakfast.
"It's from Oliver." Harry said, folding the letter and setting it down on the table.
"Oliver Wood?" Ron Weasley asked. He was sitting to Harry's right.
Harry nodded and stared straight ahead of him as Hermione grabbed the letter and opened it, not bothering to ask because Harry was never very private with his letters anyway.
"Hmm, that's interesting…" Hermione muttered as her eyes followed the written words on the paper.
"What?" Ron asked, staring angrily at Draco Malfoy, who had just tripped a Gryffindor first-year.
"It says here, he's having trouble pursuing a career in quidditch. I just never thought Oliver would ever have that much trouble, that's all." Hermione set the letter down and pushed her disappearing plate away from her.
"Oliver? Have trouble in quidditch, that's impossible." Ron grabbed the letter and began to read it himself.
"I guess I can write back to him after breakfast seeing as I have a study period for first hour." Harry nodded to himself.
"Boy, are you lucky," Ron mumbled, "I have Potions…" he winced.
They all did.
Note : I don't own any HP stuff, although sometimes I wish I did, J.K Rowling rocks socks. And this has inspiration from the movie Fear so that doesn't belong to me either but I like the idea.
Another Note : I'd really appreciate all feedback because that's what keeps me writing. I love comments ^-^ and I'd really hope you like it enough to read the upcoming chapters.
Dear Harry,
How are you old friend? I haven't seen you in what, a year? Maybe more!
I was just thinking about you earlier today when I was buying another broomstick. Mine broke in a freak accident, damn lousy cheap broomsticks.
I need to take a class on saving my money because I'm not doing very well at it. I'm always breaking my broomsticks and such. I'm nineteen, a handsome quidditch player, and the girls still aren't flocking around me! I just don't understand it. Any advice would be welcome.
This is your fifth year at Hogwarts, huh? Hmm, growing up awful fast aren't we?
You know I've been trying to get on a professional quidditch team and it's a hell of a lot harder than I'd ever thought. I'm sure I'll prevail but sometimes I doubt myself. Quidditch is my life, my blood, my soul. I don't know what I'd do without it. Boy, look at the time!
Well, Harry, write my back just to chat. I'll be anxious to hear from you.
Oliver Wood
P.S. How's the quidditch team doing without me?
Harry grinned at the letter his owl, Hedwig, had just brought him. He was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the main dinning hall. The breakfast was delicious, as always, and he was almost finished when his snowy owl had brought him the letter.
"Who's that from, Harry?" Hermione Granger asked. She sat directly in front of him, still eating her breakfast.
"It's from Oliver." Harry said, folding the letter and setting it down on the table.
"Oliver Wood?" Ron Weasley asked. He was sitting to Harry's right.
Harry nodded and stared straight ahead of him as Hermione grabbed the letter and opened it, not bothering to ask because Harry was never very private with his letters anyway.
"Hmm, that's interesting…" Hermione muttered as her eyes followed the written words on the paper.
"What?" Ron asked, staring angrily at Draco Malfoy, who had just tripped a Gryffindor first-year.
"It says here, he's having trouble pursuing a career in quidditch. I just never thought Oliver would ever have that much trouble, that's all." Hermione set the letter down and pushed her disappearing plate away from her.
"Oliver? Have trouble in quidditch, that's impossible." Ron grabbed the letter and began to read it himself.
"I guess I can write back to him after breakfast seeing as I have a study period for first hour." Harry nodded to himself.
"Boy, are you lucky," Ron mumbled, "I have Potions…" he winced.
They all did.