Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters. This is... my own idea. I can't seem to find any non-romance fictions based on Wood and Flint's... hostility... This is Wood centric. Whump. Takes place in a Quidditch match. Somewhere around first movie or second, not that I particularly care. Just know that Harry is really young in this... as is Wood in the grand scheme of things... WAYYY before the third movie. Will add more chapters.
WOOD POV
The crowd was roaring with excitement as the game prepared to begin. I had my eyes fixed firmly on the goals, knowing just where I had to go to when the game begins. And so, I went. I felt the familiar thrill of the game beginning, but knew that it was more than just a game now. It was life or only way to survive was to win. The games were never as intense with Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Slytherine fought fiercer, dirtier, and tougher. I do not allow my team to play dirty. That is where we differ.
I blocked two goals by the time the score was 40-0, Griffindor. I could practically see Flint seething mad and blowing steam out of his ears. Cockiness was not a trait of mine. However, I hated Flint. As much as I hated being cocky, I hated him even more and did enjoy angering him.
That's when things began to heat up. Two of our chasers were taken out in "freak accidents". We were outnumbered greatly. It seemed all the quaffle did was come flying my way. I did my best to push it back but eventually the score became 40-40 and I was exhausted from going back and forth. However, I was on a blocking streak. Flint had thrown the quaffle at least six times and hadn't made a single goal. That made me smile. I hoped Potter would find the snitch soon though. I wasn't sure how long I could keep taking this. That thought had just gone through my mind when something large and heavy slammed into me and I collided with the pole of a goal hard enough to almost fall off my broom. The Slytherine captain held me pinned until someone passed the quaffle through the hoop.
"Bloody dirty players," I snarled at him. Roughly, he knocked me hard against the pole before taking off. Struggling to get back my balance, I followed to circle the goals once more. No one had called a foul, although the majority of the stands were calling out in protest.
Ugh. We're taking a beating, I thought, grimacing as I looked at what remained of my time. We were down two players and the enemy was most certainly playing dirty.
But... yes! One of our chasers had the ball and was about to pass it through... I cringed as a Slytherine player kicked her in the ribs and she was knocked away. They were coming back towards me, and I immediately began to prepare. I watched to make sure no one was going to take me out again... and then they threw it. All I saw was the ball. I shot towards it, arm outstretched. It would be close. I saw something coming towards me in the corner of my eye, but that could wait. I'd knock the quaffle away and then get tackled again.
Pain exploded in my arm and shoulder, and strangely, my chest. I cried out, gripping the arm tightly towards myself as the bludger smashed into my shoulder and promptly shoved me out of the way. I was spinning without control and once again collided with a pole. It was broken. Right from my shoulder blade and a little ways down my arm to my elbow. I could feel it. Gritting me teeth, I realized I was seeing stars. Slowly I gathered my wits, beginning to move away from the pole I had been half leaning against. I couldn't move my arm. I could feel nothing below the elbow, and everything above it felt like someone had smashed it to pieces. The bludger had a nasty bite.
"Watch where you're going next time!" Flint sneered as he darted past.
My balance was completely changed. I struggled to keep myself upright. With only one capable hand on the broom, I felt like I was going to fall off at any moment. Not to mention I found it increasingly difficult to try and block the quaffle. Out of the next four throws I only managed to block one. Come on Potter. Get the snitch already. I hated relying on the kid like that, but right now all I wanted to do was lie down in my dorm and sleep the pain away.
That's when someone hit me again. I spun through the air, barely hanging on to my broom. I tried to pull free but before I knew it, my back was once again pressed into the pole as Flint grinned coldly into my face. I tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he grabbed me by both shoulders and pushed me against the metal. I cried out as he squeezed on my broken shoulder bone.
He gave me a strange look, mixed with something akin to hostility and... concern? That couldn't be right. He hated me. He laughed at the site of my failures and pains. Why was he frowning now?
"Move!" I spat, pushing against him as hard as possible. He barely budged, only eyed me with amused anger before jabbing my shoulder and forcing me to let out a very muffled whimper. Only then did he back off, shoving me forward rather hard. I had neither hand on my broom and wasn't fast enough. When my broomstick jerked, it flipped to the side and suddenly I was sliding off. I tried to grab the end of the broom but my hand closed around nothing. And then I was falling. It wasn't the first time. But the last couple of times I had still had a grip on my broomstick which had slowed my descent.
Now I was free-falling, a stomach-wrenching 40 feet to the ground. I thought someone screamed my name before everything went black in a brief flash of shock.
POTTER POV
I saw it all. Saw them take out two of our chasers. I was watching the sky as much as possible - and the Slytherine seeker - for the snitch so we could end this. I saw how hard Wood was working to keep them from getting a goal. He was exhausted. We were going to lose unless I catch the snitch first.
I watched, wincing slightly, as Flint barreled into the much smaller Wood, smashing my captain into the pole of the hoop, holding him there until someone scored.
Anger swept through me as Flint took off and Wood seemed to be moving a little more slowly than before. My attention turned back to finding the snitch. It had to be here. Scouring around, I soon got distracted again. Something small and fast was moving towards Flint who was reaching out to bat the ball out of the way. It was too late to say anything. The bludger smashed into his shoulder and sent him rolling and spinning through the air, stopping against the pole as he grabbed one arm in clear pain.
My anger grew as I saw the Slytherine team high-five one another like they had done something great. Didn't they know that people feltpain?
I began to head towards him, watching in dismay as he slowly raised himself back up to join in again. He was pushing himself too far, I knew. He was clearly injured and the enemy didn't seem to care who they hurt.
Fred and George began to circle him protectively, planning to keep away both bludgers and people. Apparently it didn't work as well as they'd hoped. Two Slytherine players knocked them both out of the way before Flint - who apparently had quite a grudge against Wood - crashed into him again. This time, I had a very bad feeling. Somethingwasn't right. When Flint finally backed off, he shoved Wood forward. I watched in horror as Wood lost his balance and began to fall - his broom falling away from him - to the ground. I went forward, desperate to catch him, but knew I wouldn't even get close.
"Wood!" I screamed.
I was still ten feet away when Wood hit the ground at full speed, lying completely limp in the sand.