Author's Note: I've decided to venture out and try out a new pairing. Reviews are always welcome. :)

Chapter 1
Fire and Frustrations

He was still as the deafening sounds of the crowd surrounded them. Flashes of blue and grey were whirling as fast as bullets before him but he maintained focus on one player. One dirty bastard of a player. He watched as Basil Horton smirked as he caught the quaffle that was passed to him easily. The quaffle was clutched tightly in his arm as he advanced on the field towards their hoops, knocking aside those that were in his way. Oliver Wood clutched at his broomstick tightly, his every fibre buzzing with anticipation. He glared at the approaching smug monster as anger began pulsing through his veins. Horton approached the goal posts with increasing speed. He jerked right and made a move to shoot but Oliver's quick eyes caught the fake movement and easily impeded the offending quaffle that was sent shooting into the left. That was the best the git could come up with?

The crowd broke into a deafening storm of cheers at Wood's clean block. Horton and his teammates glared at him and zoomed away to begin another round. Satisfaction coursed through Oliver's blood but anger still boiled deep inside of him. He was getting restless and impatient. Sweat streamed down his forehead in tiny droplets as he fixed his gaze once again on Horton. He watched as the man played fiercely against his opponents, bumping them and knocking them aside roughly just to get his hands on the quaffle. The man's dirty tactics was making Oliver even more furious. He stole a glance at the scoreboard. Puddlemere United was 20 points ahead of the Falmouth Falcons. He returned his focus on the field and easily caught sight of Horton. He was thinking of all the things he would do to the man once the game was over when the crowd suddenly burst into an uproar. Oliver began searching for the cause of the chaos and immediately found it: Puddlemere United's seeker was flying at breakneck speed at pursuit of the golden snitch with the Falcons' seeker not far behind. He watched anxiously as the Falcons' seeker caught up with his team's own. The two seekers began attempting to knock each other aside violently and then without warning and as if in slow motion, Puddlemere United's seeker was knocked off his broom and was sent plunging down into the bottom of the field, allowing the Falcons' seeker to easily grasp the snitch in his huge palm, earning them 150 points and winning them the game.

Oliver cursed as the Falcons' came together, shouting in triumph. He moved to fly down to where his team was crowding around his injured teammate and alighted his broom effortlessly. He was walking towards his team, his blood boiling in contempt at the other team's dirty tactics when he heard his name called. He stopped in his tracks but did not turn around.

"Lost again, eh, Wood? Looks like the God of all Quidditch is beginning to lose everything he's got."

And there, he snapped. Ten seconds later, he was on top of Horton beating the hell out of the git. He couldn't hear the commotion that had erupted around him. His team and the Falcons were in a brawl and the crowd had erupted into chaos.

"I expected more of you, Wood," said Coach Bentworth, his eyes narrowed at the slumped figure of Oliver Wood. "You, a player of more than three years, should know better!"

Oliver wrung his hands together impatiently, waiting for his coach's long tirade to just be over so he can get a long, hot shower.

"You have most of your teammates injured- thank Merlin they're all minor - and you put the team's reputation on the line!" The older man glanced at the bloody and bruised state of his team.

"I was provoked," said Oliver quietly as a feeble attempt to defend himself.

"What? You were provoked? Since when have you let their shitty comments get to you, huh?" He paused but when Oliver didn't say a word, he continued. "What's going on, Wood? You're always late at practice, you're always keeping to yourself and you always seem to be in a foul mood. What's going-"

"I don't know so will you please just shut up!"

An awkward silence fell upon the whole team as tension began to fill the room. Oliver closed his eyes and sighed. Coach Bentworth crossed his arms, his face straight.

"You're suspended."

Oliver looked up at his coach incredulously. His team was groaning and protesting behind him but the words his coach had just uttered were ringing in his ears.

"Your behaviour on the field today won you nothing but a suspension and your little outburst earned you a trip back to Hogwarts- yes, Hogwarts - Oh, will you shut up and listen?" shouted Coach Bentworth. The team fell into silence but all were looking at him as he just grew another head.

"Hogwarts has been looking for a flying teacher and I think it'd be best if you were to take the job. Get yourself back into sorts and you might even learn a thing or two from there."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest but was restrained by a sharp glare. "I've made a decision that cannot be moved. You will agree to my terms or I'll be forced to withdraw your captaincy for the rest of your remaining contract. Your dismissed."

The young man groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. He was so exhausted and so frustrated. He ignored the pats and words of encouragement his teammates gave him on their way out. He stood up slowly and suddenly kicked at the lockers frustratedly.

A few hours later, he was in a pub drinking his frustrations away and keeping his eyes on that fiery redhead dancing in the middle of the dance floor. She was a stranger to him but she seemed oh so familiar. He got up slowly and moved to approach the girl when suddenly, just like that, she had already gone.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling.