So, this chapter is fairly short (although it was annoying as hell to get up since my brother came in, asked for the computer, and then closed my tabs while I was in the middle of putting this chapter up... ugh). And I will be having (most likely) a flashback. I'm guessing (as it stands now) in another chapter or two. Depends on where I want to go with this.
So, I'll try to get another chapter up soon, but for now, you can watch a mini-Oliver-Quidditch-obsession.
And (even though I really feel that most - if not all - of our HP fanfiction readers know who owns the copy write of Harry Potter) my disclaimer is below.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
"Their seeker is good!"
Harry backed up a few paces, inching his way slowly toward the door as Oliver went over the prints that he'd forced Harry to help antagonize over, making sure that each and every photo was crystal clear and perfect.
He'd spent the last hour reviewing the notes that Harry took and studying each and every picture.
Before he managed to corner the Boy-Who-Lived in his own dormitory. It was a shame really, he couldn't even feel safe in his own bed. He couldn't calmly do any homework in his own room with his own dorm mates. He should've just went with his first bet and joined Hufflepuff.
The floor creaked beneath his foot.
He paused, holding his breath as if he'd just committed treason and wasn't able to break the heavy silence.
Oliver turned around.
The raven-haired boy's eyes widened as the brunette pulled out his wand and shot a spell off in his general direction. He ducked, rolled onto his back, and watched the spell soar into the wooden door beside Seamus' bed.
Harry turned toward his brother. "Ollie?" He'd later refuse that his voice hitched.
"I can't believe that we forgot that!" Oliver suddenly opened the door, the usual creak that went along with that action suspiciously absent, and peaked out. "Anyone could've listened in to our conversation – people are gossipers!"
Now, anyone else would've thought that Oliver was insane, going a bit overboard, off his rocker, etc… but this was rather tame for the Gryffindor Keeper.
Harry took this all in stride as he stood up, dusting himself off as if he'd not just ducked and covered, and walked back to his bed to peer at the photo of Higgs flying around the Quidditch pitch. He was fairly good, but not that good. Then again, considering Gryffindor's lack of a Seeker, anything would be good.
Ignoring Oliver ("How could you forget that!") with practiced ease ("After everything I taught you!") he poked the picture watching as the seeker fly away from the offending finger and out of the picture.
"Don't play around Harry!"
"Gak!" Did he have to sneak up on him while he was ignoring him every time? "I'm sorry!" Harry managed to cry out as he attempting to hide the incriminating smudge.
Oliver sent him an evil glare before sitting down onto his bed. "Mum wants to know what you want for Christmas," he told him instead, gathering the parchment and pictures, his eyes lingering on the smudged picture of the seeker. He sent Harry a dark look.
Harry (once again) ignored him, plopping down onto the edge of Seamus' bed. "Why doesn't she just ask me then, besides, Christmas isn't for like, another 3 months."
"Meh," Oliver shrugged, "You know Mum, always likes to get everything early…" That and Harry still believed in Santa. She didn't have the heart to take the belief away, and if she had any choice in the matter, Harry would go on approaching his thirty's still thinking that Father Christmas was coming to give him a visit.
Of course, Oliver just thought that it was a load of dung.
"Tell her to convince Dumbledore that first years have brooms," he said, sulking slightly as he leaned back on his housemate's bed, "then, even Santa wouldn't have to get me anything. I'd be happy enough…" He trailed off for a few minutes before grinning, "Although a broom would be nice."
"A Nimbus 2000 I'd say," Oliver answered dreamily, still fairly upset that his mother refused to buy him one. "Then you could take my old broom and I'd take yours."
Harry, scowling viciously, reached back and grabbed one of Seamus' pillows, lobbing it at his brother in frustration, "In your dreams."
Ollie sighed (rather dreamily), "I own the Nimbus in my dreams…"
Staring at him bewilderedly, Harry blinked, "You've finally gone insane…"
"Your dorm-mates are banging on the door," the brunette said, shaking out of his day-dream and gathering up the various articles of notes and pictures. "Don't tell 'em 'bout our conversation. Top secret."
Humming Secret Agent Man, Harry nodded, "The one 'bout Santa right?"
Pausing, Oliver bit his lip and looked up, "You're a lost cause," he told the raven-haired first year slowly, as if talking to a (particularly dumb) two year old (it sounded oddly reminecent to the tone that the teachers take when attempting to get Crabbe and Goyle to understand a lesson), "and don't tell them anything about the Gryffindor Quidditch team that they don't already know."
"Aye, aye captain," he mock-saluted him, falling back onto Seamus' bed as he darted out the door; Harry grinned when Dean and Seamus stumbled into his brother before being roughly shoved aside as he ran past them up to his dorm. "Hey mates," he said, way too cheerfully, "want to know what Wood and I were talkin' 'bout?"
He heard a loud cry of "don't you dare" echo down the stairs as he burst out laughing.
