Oliver Wood


You couldn't escape the emotions of the stadium; it was one of those things that made me love Quidditch so truly. It was basic – you either won or you lost and people were either happy or sad. Sure it wasn't really that simple, it was a heavily nuanced game that relied on tactics and daring, passion and cunning. But at the end of the day, the end of the match, you either won or you didn't and there were days when that simplicity was something to marvel. Today wasn't one of those days though, simply because we'd won.

It wasn't just that we'd won that made the victory so sweet (although it helped), it was the fact that we'd done it despite everything. Despite losing our captain and Chaser, we won. Despite the bad press, our lack of faith, the low expectations of our fans, the grudge between Puddlemere and the Harpies; against all that we prevailed.

A good two thirds of the stadium was frustrated with our win, that was clear, so our celebrations on the pitch were modest. We flew our laps, paying close attention to the third that was pleased (to say the least) with our win, shook hands with our opposing team (taking the high road despite their hostility to Wilda) and went on our merry way towards our locker room before celebrating properly.

"Wait up, Wood!" I heard a woman yell behind me, I turned (hoping it wasn't a groupie), to see Ginny Weasley running after me; definitely not a groupie then.

In the years since Hogwarts I'd become better acquainted with Ginny Weasley, although seeing as my memories of her from school were just of a shy sister to my Beaters, that wasn't saying much. We met often in Quidditch matches and the occasional charity gala or event. They were events that neither of us particularly enjoyed so we'd become inclined to chat and drink butterbeer on such occasions to pass the time, therefore we knew each other fairly well by now.

"Hi, Ginny, good game!" I greeted the witch, glad she was no longer the 'opposition'.

"Yeah, yeah, you were lucky with that Snitch," she replied teasingly.

I grinned, "isn't that the point? I put all my efforts into the Quaffle only for it to become obsolete in the end, determined by a fifty-fifty chance of you getting the Snitch? Cheers for missing it, by the way."

She just waved me off, knowing I was joking; the pair of us were used to depreciative banter post-match by now.

"I was wondering, do you want to go get a drink with me and a mate in a bit? Post-match celebration/commiseration delete where applicable, etc."

"Yeah, sure, as long as I'm not going to be verbally assaulted by some rabid Harpies fan?" I asked with genuine concern, it'd happened before.

"Merlin, no! The complete opposite, actually, she's nothing like that. Hermione Granger, I'm not sure if you knew her at school?"

"Oh, yeah, I met her," I replied, trying to sound insouciant, "once or twice, at least. She seemed alright. See you outside the Harpies room?"

She agreed and we both separated, giving in to the painful need to shower. Ninety minutes of fast-paced Quidditch may feel great but it made you smell something awful, few would agree to be exposed to that for longer than necessary.

"Well, everyone, we did it; despite everything. Congratulations!" I told my team as we filtered into the guest locker room.

"Nah, Ol, you did it. It was all in the captain-ing," replied Wilda with a bloody wink (quite literally, the Chaser winked at me through the blood flowing into her eye from the cut on her forehead).

"Whatever," I replied, ignoring the teasing comment, "we'll analyse it on Monday, enjoy your weekend!"

"Oliver, why do I get the impression that you're not teasing when you talk of 'analysis'?"

"Anne, now I'm your captain you should know, I never tease about Quidditch," and, as I headed towards the men's showers, it was my turn to wink at my team.


Hermione Granger


I sat impatiently in the foyer of the Harpies stadium, humming 'Beat Back the Bludgers, Boys, and Let the Quaffle in' aggressively as I waited for Ginny. We'd agreed to go for a drink post-match, I say agreed, it was more like she insisted and I relented, knowing that to fight it was pointless. I wasn't alone in the open hall, but there were few people who would be willing to chatter with me or I them. The main occupants to the area, that was only accessible to those who had box seats, were the dreaded WAGs (or wives and girlfriends) and the conversation was a tad too otiose for my liking.

It was a scene I was familiar with, having encountered similar witches when I was dating Ron. There was a sense of entitlement in the room, the women who joined me were 'with the team', see, and that meant they were privy to gossip mere witches like myself weren't. In situations like these they often liked to spout the dirty details as loud as possible, hoping to get some poor witch to take the bait, just so they could prove how much better they were.

"-Well, it's a surprise they won at all, really," said the first of three women in Puddlemere blue, they were gathered together impatiently looking in, what I assumed was, the direction of the locker rooms.

"Complete luck, they wouldn't have managed it against a proper team," replied her friend. It always frustrated me that the women and men who partnered with the players would always behave so viciously behind the scenes. It was a lack of support that I struggled to comprehend.

"Yes! I keep telling Bennie, get out while you can, the Wasps are doing well, he needs to jump ship."

"Yes, especially with Oliver now in charge," said the leader, clearly disapproving of the temporary captain.

"Well, 'in charge'? He's only temporary," the scorn in the woman's voice was clear – she must have thought her 'Bennie' was better suited to the role.

"I heard he paid off Jack to get him the captain role." Ah, of course, Oliver couldn't have gained the position from his own merit.

"Really? Rita said in the Prophet that he'd paid Billy's wife to kick off and get Billy to leave so he could move in on the spot." I bristled unwillingly at this, feeling defensive towards the wizard who I hadn't seen in years, other than flying around a pitch. It was unfair that they were slandering wildly the new captain of the Puddlemere team, temporary or not. He was supposed to be leading their partners, supporting them, working with them to produce a better team and all they could do was slag him off.

"Well that didn't work out for him, did it? He's only temporary."

"He must be proper narked about that, nine years on the team and they still don't want him to be captain!" The glee in the witch's voice was unmistakable.

"I heard it was because he can't hold down a relationship – doesn't look good for the image, see. Teams want a family man to lead, that's why everyone loved Billy so much." I wondered fleetingly if Billy had been so highly praised a week ago when he was still captain.

"Didn't he turn down Rita's niece?"

"Yes, the git, she's a lovely girl. Apparently he said he wanted a girl that was more 'intelligent'!"

"Intelligent, him?!" she scoffed. "He'd be lucky!"

"What intelligent girl is going to be interested in the likes of him?!"

"Oh, I don't know," I heard myself say, against my better judgement, "he's not that bad to look at, that's for sure, I can think of a fair few intelligent girls who wouldn't say no." Oh, Hermione, I scolded myself, what are you doing?

"Oh and you'd know intelligent girls, would you? Who are you, silly witch? Hanging around, hoping to get a glimpse of a proper Quidditch player? I'm surprised they let you in."

"Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, don't you know?" said Oliver Wood, just as I was about to respond. "How're you doing Charlotte?"

"Oliver! Lovely job out there, you're such a good captain! I do hope they make it permanent."

He smiled indulgently, as if fully aware of how insincere her words were, "I'm sure. Come on, Granger, Weasley's waiting."


Oliver Wood


Did I remember Hermione Granger? Ginny'd asked. I didn't see how it could ever be possible to forget the girl. She'd been a strange girl when I'd met her, understated, but proud. Undeniably smart, frightfully so, it had been intimidating that first time I'd met her; she was brash in her explanation, I thought she must have been stuck up but realised soon after that it was probably nerves. Potter and the twins had nothing but nice things to say about her, yes, she was bossy at times but her intelligence was vast and her capacity for kindness even greater. Since that first time I'd met her we hadn't interacted all that much, a passing 'hello' in the corridors of Hogwarts. We'd seen each other during the Battle of Hogwarts too, but that hadn't really been the place for people to catch up. In the years after the war I'd occasionally seen her around at Quidditch matches, she'd been dating Ronald Weasley but I hadn't known him well and had always been reluctant to intrude.

When I heard her defending me, a wizard she hadn't properly spoken to in ten years, to that vicious cow Charlotte I couldn't help but grin. She was how I remembered her, naturally, and although she was verbally sparring with the woman I was struck again by her capacity for kindness; it had been so long since we'd last met and yet she defended me without hesitation.

"Oh and you'd know intelligent girls, would you? Who are you, silly witch? Hanging around, hoping to get a glimpse of a proper Quidditch player? I'm surprised they let you in." I cringed at the sour witch's bitter words. How could someone so seemingly happy with her lot be so cruel to a complete stranger? I decided to intercede before things got out of hand, sure that Hermione had bitten off more than she could chew and hoping to defuse the situation.

"Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, don't you know?" I said cheerfully, stepping forward away from the locker room door. The witches clearly hadn't been aware of my entrance, too distracted with ganging up on Granger. "How're you doing Charlotte?" I asked, my voice deceptively sweet.

"Oliver! Lovely job out there, you're such a good captain! I do hope they make it permanent," Charlotte replied and I cringed. Who, in the name of Merlin, do you think you're kidding, woman?

I put on a brave smile, sick of the niceties, "I'm sure. Come on, Granger, Weasley's waiting."

I turned to Hermione then, smiling more openly, and took her hand leading her back towards Ginny.

"Cheers for that, think I was out of my depth," she admitted quietly, smiling up at me as we walked away.

"No problem," I replied, grinning, she'd defended me so it was only right that I'd done the same for her. Besides, she thought I was good looking.


A.N. I am internetless, therefore this chapter has been a bit of a pain, I've recently moved back down to be with my family post-uni (I'm dreadfully homesick for London) and we've just moved and the internet is impossible and not really figured out yet (read: I have to have angry phone conversations with BT daily). Jim Beam, Elway (very good band) and my beloved 3G on my phone got this chapter written.
It's also a right pain to get a chapter into DocX to upload, I can do most things on my phone but transferring a Word document is fairly beyond it. What I'm getting at is: bear with me, this and 'Show of Strength' (my Druna three-shot – I do like the obscurer ships) are not neglected, I'm writing, it's just the updating may be a bit of an arse while I figure it out.