EVERYONE!!! READ THE BELOW!!!

Now that I (hopefully) have everyone's attention, maybe these notices won't be skipped over, as it seems a few people are wont to do.

If you asked for a certain pairing to be turned into a drabble when I offered to do so a few chapters ago, then I need you to check the near-bottom of my profile for an important notice. Also, I have a new poll up as a few people have seen already, but it will be up for the rest of the time this story is incomplete. So why don't you check it out and, if it interests you, vote!

Also, does anyone have any suggestions for a better name and summary for this? I had no idea what to put for either when I started this story and I can't help but feel that both are putting off potential readers. So if you have any suggestions, please send them to me in a review.

I believe that wraps about everything up, so it's almost time to begin the story. I have to warn you though; I wrote this a while ago, so it may not be up to my usual standards. I liked this though for some reason and, when wingedblackwolf asked for an Oliver/Harry drabble, I jumped at the chance to post this. Hopefully it won't be too bad.

Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own anything in relation with the Harry Potter Series. I own but my ideas and the ability to share them with you all.

Warning: The following story contains a cringe worthy amount of attempts at British colloquialisms, a lack of Oliver's (sexy) accent, and quite a few swears that may or may not force me to change the rating of the story; nevertheless this story will be descending into M rated territory (or at least the fringes of it) with the Viktor/Harry drabble coming up, so why not start the M stuff now? I like italics; don't you? I hope Harry's (justified) swearing does not offend anyone.

On with the story!

Harry shivered slightly in the cold morning air, burrowing himself into the muggle sweatshirt he was wearing underneath his outer robes. It had been a brisk morning despite the warm weather that May usually brought around, so Harry was wholly unprepared for the chill that enveloped his body from his very first moment outside. He pitied the people flying above him, for it was most certainly even more freezing at the altitudes in which Quidditch was normally played then it was at the bottom of the pitch where Harry was sitting.

It was still bloody freezing though! Damn Oliver and his stupid Quidditch training/torture practices. Something deep down on the inside whispered to Harry that Oliver must have been one hell of a sadist, for no other captain would even dare think of waking their team up at 2:30 in the fucking morning to go out into the damp, freezing weather only to work their already tired bones into piles of mush. Any other team would probably have mutinied. The team wasn't even practicing, they were just spinning around like bloody ballerinas in the sky!

"Tempus," Harry whispered through blue-tinted lips, watching a clock face appear in the visible air released from between his clattering teeth. 4:00 AM. Four. Fucking. AM. Merlin damn Oliver, no Merlin damn Quidditch! It had taken almost two hours, but Harry's desire for warmth finally won out over his burning, Merlin, wouldn't that be convenient to be on fire right now, love of Quidditch.

Damn it, he was freezing. And wet. And he so didn't have the patience for this.

"Oliver!" he shouted. "Get your arse down here!"

Receiving no response, Harry growled before casting a sonorous charm.

"OLIVER! DOWN HERE! NOW!!"

That caught his attention. It only took a minute for the keeper to touch down and rush over.

"Something wrong, Har?" Oliver questioned, a concerned look directed at the seeker currently sitting on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair.

"Yes, Oliver, there is something very wrong. You see, I'm all for Quidditch and therefore I'm all for practicing said sport. Unfortunately though, I have a broken leg and am therefore unable to play."

"I know that, Harry," began Oliver.

"Oh, really? Then you can tell me why the bloody hell I'm out in freezing weather, with nothing to do but watch you guys play and feel jealous over me not being able to be up there with you!" Harry shouted, cutting off the older man.

"We're not trying to make you jealous Harry," Oliver replied grinning. "No we're just… giving you a little motivation towards getting better quickly."

"By torturing me with the cold, which will make me sick, and with jealousy?" Harry deadpanned.

"Of course!" Oliver chirped, a pseudo-innocent grin on his face.

"Someone… anyone… help me, please." Harry pleaded under his breath.

"Harry," Oliver spoke seriously. "The team depends on you a lot. And I--we care about you. We know that you're frustrated with your leg needing to be healed the muggle way. So thought, maybe if we gave you a show, you would be less frustrated. More happy."

Harry smiled softly. "That's sweet, Oliver."

"Yeah," Oliver replied, a faint blush spreading across his face. "Get better quickly though, we're facing the Harpies soon and we'll need you, okay?"

"Sure," Harry answered, still smiling. "Oh, and Oliver?"

"Hm?" Oliver questioned.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Harry," Oliver replied, winking. "Anything for you."

---------------Ten minutes later---------------

"You could have made me happy without dragging me out into the cold!"

...Damn, I'm sorry wingedblackwolf; that was nowhere near as good as I wanted it to be. I hoped you enjoyed it though.

Remember everyone, reviews are a writer's motivation; although I would never hold a story hostage for reviews, more reviews usually inspires me (when Pandy-chan isn't) and the make me want to update faster so as not to disappoint my readers (this is the fourth story in a row that was posted less then two days after the preceding one)!

So, please review!

Ariaeris~