Charley Clearwater was used to getting her own way. The youngest child of an affluent wizarding family, she'd been given everything she'd ever wanted without ever having to ask twice whether it be toys, clothes or jewels. Growing into an adult, she'd simply swapped toys for men and never looked back, her status as a famous Quidditch player simply cementing her own personal worth in her mind. Nobody had ever said no to Charley Clearwater. Except Oliver Wood.
Sat at the breakfast bar in her marble kitchen, Charley ripped the page from the magazine she had been reading, crumpled it up and flung it into the fireplace. The just-discernable face of Georgianna Tattler beamed out of the fire at her and she resisted the urge to shoot a curse at it.
"Why won't that stupid little bitch just go back to where she came from?!" She hissed at her sister, who was sipping coffee and reading the Daily Prophet across from her, seemingly oblivious to her sister's temper tantrum.
'Give it time. Oliver likes excitement, something to get his adrenalin going, there's no way she can manage to do that long term. Then he'll come back to you.' Penelope said calmly, smoothing her blond hair into a bun.
"That could take years!"
"Then do something about it." Her sister said, rolling her eyes and leaving the kitchen. Charley cocked her head to the side in thought, staring down at the photo of Oliver at the Puddlemere New Year party. She ran a finger over his smiling face, ignoring the petite brunette in the background of the photo talking to Miriam Wood. Oliver Wood was the ultimate prize; he came from wizarding stock as old as the hills, lived in a gorgeous house, had loads of money and was so attractive Charley often couldn't focus around him. Memories of the nights he had spent in her bed washed over her and she smirked, imagining the chiselled body hidden under the suit in his picture. As she finished her coffee, an idea formulated in her head; Penelope was right, if she wanted to steal Oliver Wood from under Georgianna Tattler's nose, she needed to act now.
Striding over the fireplace, she glanced into the mirror above it, smoothing down her hair and adjusting her top so her cleavage was more prominent. She threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and knelt to put her head into the green flames.
"Ministry of Magic, Auror Department, Office 48!" The cramped office of Sid Stanley, Junior Auror, spun into view to reveal him hunched over his desk, writing furiously. Paper was stacked high on his desk and the bin overflowed with discarded documents.
"Sid!" Charley said loudly, and he jumped, staring down at her in surprise.
"Charley! What are you doing here?" He asked, hurrying over to his fireplace.
"I need a favour, and I couldn't think of anyone more helpful than my dearest friend Sid." Charley said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at the blushing man staring into the flames at her. Sid Stanley had been a nerdy Ravenclaw (and really that title was an achievement in a house full of clever people) in the year below her at school. He'd spent most of his life bitter he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor like his older brother and so jumped at any opportunity to prove he was more than just a brain; for Charley this meant he would go along with most of her schemes for the hell of it, though it also helped that he was madly in love with her.
"I-I don't know, Charley, I just got this job." He stammered, his hands clutching his tie like it was a Portkey about to activate, his knuckles several shades paler than the rest of his hands.
"I know, and I'm so proud of you." She smiled, "I know how long you've wanted this. Remember how I helped you study for the tests last year?" She kept her voice light, masking her rising irritation.
"I remember." Sid said slowly.
"And remember how those study sessions used to turn into non-study sessions?" She purred, knowing exactly how to manipulate him into giving her what she wanted. Sure enough, Sid nodded, his face turning beetroot red and his breathing quickened slightly, as if the room was suddenly lacking in oxygen.
"What's say you find some information for me, just do a little digging on someone, and then maybe we can get together and not study again sometime?" She batted her eyelashes again and held her breath, waiting. Sid stood still for a second, his eyes darting unseeingly around the room as his brain processed her offer.
"Fine. Who is it?" He finally said.
"What kind of masochist schedules a Quidditch match for the 2nd of January?" I groaned as Oliver flung open my curtains, letting the early morning sunlight flood my room.
"The kind that plans on winning the league." Oliver said grimly, taking a hold of the end of my duvet and whisking it away from me. "Get up, shower, have breakfast. We need to leave in half an hour." He said firmly. I stopped clutching my pillow over my head and rolled over to look at him. He stood at the end of my bed, arms crossed with one eyebrow raised; for the first time in weeks he reminded me of the Oliver Wood who had found me in the mud in the dark just a few months previously. And I wasn't sure I didn't like it.
"I think I like this bossy Oliver." I said grinning. I stretched out on the bed, yawning, and watched from under my eyelashes as his eyes raked over my barely-clad limbs and he audibly swallowed.
"No distractions. I'll be downstairs." He pulled his eyes away from me and strode out, ignoring my laughter.
As the sound of his footsteps on the wooden floor faded, I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Taking a swig of the potion Miriam was still supplying me with, I proceeded to brush my teeth and shower in lightning fast time. I shimmied into jeans and pulled on Oliver's spare Quidditch shirt, salvaged from the bottom of the ironing pile. He wasn't aware I was going to wear it and I decided to keep it as a surprise, pulling a jumper on over the top of it. Dominus uncurled himself from his preferred spot on the carpet under the dresser and wound himself around my ankles as I battled my wild bedhair into obedience.
"Hey baby." I cooed, scooping him up and nuzzling him. He meowed loudly and head butted my chin.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Come on, let's get some food." I carried him downstairs to the kitchen where Miriam was trying to force a very pale and quiet Oliver to eat some toast.
"Come on now, you can't play on an empty stomach." She chided him, pushing the jam towards him. Mechanically, he spread some on a piece of toast and bit into it, chewing without enthusiasm. I carried Dominus over to the cat bowls and set him down. He pounced on his food at once and I smiled. Turning back to the table, I helped myself to porridge and coffee and sat down.
"You okay?" I asked Oliver and he nodded without speaking. We ate in silence, the ticking of the clock seeming to grow louder and louder until Oliver could stand it no more; he pushed his plate away from him and stood abruptly.
"Time to go." He said, waving his wand and clearing the table in one swift motion. Miriam, poised to argue as her plates clattered carelessly into the sink, took one look at him and changed her mind. Instead, she nodded and held out her arm towards me. Oliver pulled on his Puddlemere United robe, his name emblazoned across the back, and twisted into nothingness with a loud crack. I followed quickly, grasping Miriam tightly as I thought with all my might of the Puddlemere Stadium. My feet slammed into the ground in the lobby of the club and I glanced over at Miriam, who seemed fine, if a little unsettled. I knew she hated Apparating, much preferring to Floo when she could. Oliver had already vanished off to the changing rooms.
"Let's get seated before it gets busy." Miriam said, steering me towards the stairs. We climbed up to our designated place in the box and settled into a corner. The stadium was mostly empty and we sat chatting for a while as more and more people filtered in and took their seats. I spied Oliver standing in the shadows just inside the player's entrance, watching as the spectators took their seats. I knew he would be observing the sky, checking for sun and cloud and trying to gage how much the wind would affect them once they were in the air. Oliver's obsession with Quidditch was admirable, if slightly disconcerting and I tried not to wonder whether he could ever love anything as much, as those thoughts usually led me to fits of self-doubt and melancholy in the early hours of the morning.
Other people seated in the box started to arrive and I spotted Sophie, Anna's girlfriend, hovering uncertainly in the doorway, looking a little unsure of herself. I remembered Oliver mentioning that their relationship had gone public at the New Year's party and this was the first time Sophie had attended a match as Anna's Official Girlfriend.
"Sophie!" I called, smiling warmly at her and gesturing to the empty seat next to me. She smiled back at me and hurried over.
"Hi Georgie, Miriam!" She said, hugging us in turn. "I was so nervous I wasn't going to know anyone and I'd have to watch by myself." She said, sounding relieved.
"You can cheer with us, dear." Miriam reassured her and got to work plying her with hard boiled sweets and lending her a Puddlemere scarf. The noise of the crowd rose to an excited fever pitch as the starting time of the match grew closer until the booming voice of the commentator caused yells and shrieks of excitement to erupt throughout the stadium. The Puddlemere team shot out onto the pitch as their names were announced, waving to the spectators and lapping the stadium. Oliver flew close to the box where Miriam and I were sat as he circled the pitch, managing a grim smile in my direction before he pulled away.
"Aaaaaaand I give you… the Holyhead Harpies!" The commentator yelled excitedly and seven green blurs sped onto the pitch.
"Griffiths! Morgan! Jones! Gillbert! Greene! Lewis! And new Captain… Weasley!" I looked in surprise at the redhead bringing up the rear of the group now sailing around the pitch. Ginny Weasley had been in the year below me at school and rumour had it she was set to marry Harry Potter himself later in the year. She'd always been feisty and good at Quidditch but I was surprised she'd chosen to go professional; her efforts as part of the DA during the Second War were well known, and with Potter as her boyfriend she could have walked into a job in any department at the Ministry and been given triple the normal salary for it. She was still slight, with the petite frame typical of a Seeker thought I knew she played Chaser by her on-pitch interaction with Gillbert and Lewis, the other Chasers. The referee sprinted across the pitch, placing the trunk containing the Quaffle, Bludgers and the Snitch in the centre and blowing his whistle sharply. Both teams stopped flying to assume their positions, hovering in the air awaiting the release of the balls. With another prolonged blast of his whistle the ref kicked open the box and the Snitch fluttered at lightning speed high into the air, vanishing from sight. The Bludgers rocketed in different directions and in a flurry of mid-air activity there was a scuffle for the Quaffle.
"They're off! Harpies in possession, its Gillbert, Weasley, back to Gillbert, a pass to Lewis, is she – I think she's going to shoot! Ohhh, and the Quaffle is saved by Wood." Oliver had gone from hovering defensively in front of all three rings to blocking the lower left one in a split second, his fist colliding firmly with the leather ball so that it spun off in Harrow's direction.
"Puddlemere takes possession." The Holyhead Harpies were fierce women – I resolved never to meet them in a bad mood down Knockturn Alley as I watched them punch, slam and use their elbows in exceedingly creative ways to regain the Quaffle. For several long minutes it was impossible to tell which team had it, it was changing hands so fast until Charley swooped down low over the pitch and then turned her broom vertically and rocketed upwards towards the knot of players above her. They scattered and she emerged looking victorious, the Quaffle tucked tightly against her side.
"And Clearwater has regained possession… She makes her way down the pitch… Ignores Spied, he's wide open there… Is she? Surely not – but… Puddlemere scores!"
"What just happened?" Sophie asked, scanning the pitch and wearing a very confused expression.
"She just flashed the other Keeper." Miriam said neutrally, only the tiniest sniff of disapproval escaping her.
"But the Keeper is female." Sophie said, frowning.
"Rumour has it Gladey Morgan secretly plays for your team, Soph, it's just a big hush up because the Harpies already get so much stick about being a lesbian team." I explained.
"That's awful!" She protested and I nodded.
"And Charley's trick is going to do nothing but add fuel to the fire." Miriam said.
"But they scored." I sighed – Quidditch was as much about off-pitch politics as any other sport, I thought. The match continued with increased fervour, both sides playing fast and hard. Weasley managed to sneak a goal past Oliver and the big screens showed a close up of her immediately after, her tongue wagging at him as she grinned.
"They both played for Gryffindor, though she only made the team the year after Oliver left. I think Harry was hoping he'd know some of her moves but he's never seen her fly before." Miriam said. I snuck a glance at her but she seemed ignorant of her casual use of Coach's first name and I contained a smile. I turned my attention back to the game just as Eric flew at Gwendolyn Jones, daughter of the previous Harpies' Captain, with his bat raised aloft. As I watched he smashed it into the front end of her broomstick, sending her into a tailspin and preventing her from sending a would-be well targeted Bludger in Oliver's direction. In retaliation, she tailed him to the other end of the pitch and pulling alongside him, delivered a hard blow to his kidneys with her own bat. He doubled over in obvious pain and the ref blew on his whistle twice.
"Penalty to Puddlemere." Announced the commentator and the players assembled in front of the golden hoops down the far end of the pitch, leaving Oliver alone in front of the other goals. As every other eye in the stadium watched Charley take her shot, I watched Oliver. His face, contorted with tension and concentration, relaxed briefly as the loud ding sounded out, announcing Charley's success. He smiled and then glanced in my direction. I waved and he waved back before quickly concentrating as the action moved back towards him. Looking up, I found the screens focused on my own face and blushed magnificently, grabbing Sophie's arm and giggling nervously as I watched my own face. The crowd cheered loudly, to my surprise.
"You're a favourite among the fans." Sophie explained to me once the camera returned to the action on the pitch.
"Why?!" I asked.
"A lot of professionals and critics thought Oliver was going to burn out and peak too soon because he put too much into it. He was training too hard and letting the game take over his life." She said.
"Sounds just like Oliver." I said dryly.
"Then suddenly he was performing better but doing less – you know, going to practice but leaving at the normal time with everyone else. Not showing up two hours before games to inspect every inch of the pitch personally or sleeping here at the weekends. And the only thing that changed was that you entered his life – so of course the like you, you made their best player even better." Sophie said, looking highly amused and even Miriam chuckled quietly to my left.
"Oh. Well. Wow." I said, stunned. Before anyone else could comment, the people around us leapt off their seats with shrieks that could have woken even the most Petrified person. I looked to the pitch, startled and then jumped to my own feet. Gina Greene and Anna were both blurs of colour speeding upwards towards the clouds, their arms outstretched. They rose higher and higher until an unmistakable scream of frustration echoed down towards the now-silent pitch and the spectators waited with bated breath to see who the victor would be.
"PUDDLEMERE WINS!" The commentator yelled as Anna streaked towards the ground, the Snitch held aloft in her hand. I screamed with delight and hugged Sophie as she let out her own victorious whoop. The Puddlemere team converged into a mass of blue and brooms as they descended towards the grass and I could see Oliver's beam even from my high vantage point.
I waited for Oliver in the bar with Sophie. Miriam had ensconced herself in a corner booth with a cranberry juice and was patiently allowing Harry Fletcher to relive the game with her, blow by blow. When Oliver walked through the door I skipped across the room and launched myself at him. He caught me and lifted me off my feet, spinning me round until I was breathless and laughing.
"Congratulations!" I cried, kissing him full on the mouth. He responded with fervour and it took all of my restrain to remember that we were in a bar full of people and his mother was sitting in plain sight.
"Thanks." He breathed, resting his forehead against mine and grinning widely.
"Want a drink?" I asked and he nodded. We moved towards the bar and joined the throng of players and family waiting to be served. Just as I was ordering, the door to the bar was flung open and banged loudly against the wall. Ginny Weasley, her face flushed a deep red, was striding across the bar towards us, her eyes flashing like hell fire.
"That was a low, dirty trick." She spat when she reached Charley, her wand appearing out of nowhere and pressing against Charley's pale throat.
"Come on Weasley, it's just a game. The Harpies just need to learn to admit defeat gracefully." Charley smirked. Big mistake. With a noise that sounded like a gunshot, Ginny pulled back her wand and shot a spell straight into her face. Charley's face appeared to be sprouting strange growths that flapped and tried in vain to escape from between the fingers of her hands, which she had clutched to her face in alarm. I couldn't restrain my laughter and dissolved into hysterics, grabbing Oliver's arm for support as I doubled over with laughter. Ginny looked my way, surprised, and then grinned at me.
"I suggest you have a strong word with your Chaser about the good ethics of Quidditch and insist she learn them – or next time it'll be several inches south I aim my curse." Ginny said calmly to Anna, who was hiding her own grin, and Anna nodded formally. Turning on her heel, she approached Oliver.
"Oliver, it's mine and Harry's engagement party next week, we'd really like you to come. With Georgie, of course." In an instant Ginny's face was warm and friendly and I couldn't help but like her.
"We'll be there." Oliver reassured her and she nodded, and then spun on her heel, striding from the bar with her long red hair rippling behind her like a cape of victory.
"Well," Miriam said, appearing at Oliver's side, "Nobody could ever say Quidditch was dull. How about we go home for some tea before Miss Clearwater's altered features turn our stomachs and we can never eat again."
"Wonderful plan." I grinned, thinking of Miriam's cottage pie and apple crumble with pleasure.
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