Harry trooped in to the Gryffindor showers, feeling absolutely miserable. His robes dripped on the ground and he could barely see from the mud he was drenched in. His neck ached from the face-first slide he'd just completed across the muddy quidditch pitch. He'd spent some time trying to blow off steam while the others showered, once Wood had gotten through with yelling himself hoarse about how crappily they'd just practiced.
Yeah, they got it, the second to last Quidditch match was in two days. If they won, they'd continue to be in the running for the house cup. The weather had been abysmal and there was no spark left in the team running up to game day. He didn't have an answer for it, at least not one Wood wanted to hear. And no one wanted to even look at Harry with all the stupid falls and drops he'd been making that day.
Harry noticed one shower was still on while he pulled off his arm and shin pads, probably Wood trying to drown himself again. He always got like that close to the end of quidditch season. It made Harry's stomach flip guiltily. He hissed in pain as he slid his shoulder pads up and off himself. He'd taken a budger to the back that he'd thought hadn't hurt much, but it was all catching up to him.
The water shut off and he kept his eyes on the floor as the sound of bare feet padded out of the stalls.
"Harry? What're you still doin' here?" Wood's Scottish burr came from the doorway.
"Nothing, Wood. Just waiting till everyone's out so I can have some quiet."
"Is somethin' the matter?"
"Er, no."
Harry let his eyes flit up to Wood's, blushing furiously as he tried to ignore the fact that his captain was standing in front of him in only an athlete's towel.
"I'm not an idiot, Potter. You look like you've just been dragged around the pitch by the nose and kicked for good measure."
"You saw that slide and bludger I took, yeah? Same difference."
"You took a bludger? Where?" Wood asked, his hazel eyes suddenly dark and worried.
"Between the shoulders, honestly, it's nothing..." Harry coughed, his breath hitching in pain.
"Let me see." Wood demanded.
"You mean, like..."
"Yes, Potter. Take it off."
Harry obeyed, trying to pull his shirt up, but his stiffening shoulders wouldn't allow for the movement to happen.
"I need help. I can't..."
Oliver gently rolled up the edge of Harry's shirt until the bruise revealed itself. The pads had taken most of the impact but there was still a generous mark.
"Let's get you in the shower. Hot water will do you some good." Wood said matter-of-factly. He helped Harry out of his shirt and the rest of his robes, going for the band of his drawers before Harry stopped him.
"Hold on, I can do that myself. Unless you're coming in there with me." He said.
"Right, right. Sorry, Potter."
Wood helped him stand up and supported him into the shower stall. Harry's stiffened back made it hard to move right.
"Merlin's beard, I fucked myself royally." Harry swore. "It was just a bludger and a fall, what even..."
"Does your neck hurt?" Oliver asked.
"Only a little." Harry replied. "Trying to catch the snitch with your face does that to a player."
In spite of himself, Wood let a little chuckle loose as he turned the hot water on. He retreated behind the stall wall as Harry pulled off his drawers and stepped into the steamy water.
"As long as you don't have a concussion. If I lose another player to the hospital wing, I'll-"
"-Eat your broom, I know." Harry finished, taking his glasses off and setting them on the soap rack.
"...Do I sound insensitive? I mean, I care about the team. I just... I don't know."
"Want to win?" Harry offered.
"Yeah..."
"Look, Wood. You don't have to push so hard. The team knows they're doing a bad job of it, and they're going to turn it around in time. Maybe just lay off the pressure a little as we come up to the game so everyone can problem-solve themselves and get into it? Support a little more?"
Wood was silent, making Harry think he'd gone too far. He turned in the hot water and rolled his shoulders, loosening the ache.
"Erm, sorry. I just was thinking off the top of my head. You're the captain, you make the decisions."
"No, Harry. You've a point. I guess in my desperation, I lose track of what's important. Thank you."
"Erm, no problem."
The shower room was quiet except for the running water, Harry put his head under the spray to gather his thoughts for a moment. When he emerged, Wood was speaking again.
"-en a right awful git, Harry. I don't think about anything but quidditch and it shows. I'm nigh on the worst captain this team has seen. Charlie would be disappointed in me."
"Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?" Harry asked. "You can make mistakes without being the worst captain in history. I'm sure my dad made loads of blunders, he was a bit of a prat, and they still gave him a medal."
"How do you know?" Wood asked. "Have you heard stories or anything?"
"Erm, yeah. Yeah. From Lupin, you know. And Snape."
"Snape? I forgot, they would have been at Hogwarts together. And Snape tried out for the team loads of times I heard."
"You don't say." Harry said. He soaped up his hair and began combing his fingers through the knotted mess. He needed a haircut desperately.
"He'll oversee a game or two, but he's no flying ace. Looks like a bloody bat when he's out on the pitch."
"I'll say." Harry snorted. The image was funny really, Snape in his flapping black robes and blowing on a silver whistle to call fouls. It was hard to imagine their sallow-skinned potions professor doing anything other than brooding in his dungeon.
"How is the hot water treating you?" Wood asked.
"Swimmingly." Harry replied. "I'm sure I'll regret it when I get out. No wonder you spend so much time in here."
"Fair enough, but you should get out soon and eat, Potter. You can't defeat Hufflepuff looking half starved."
"'M naturally tiny, Wood. That's why you made me seeker."
Harry shut off the water and a dry towel flopped over his eyes.
"Aerodynamic, Potter, not emaciated." Wood said, padding into the changing area. Harry dried off and followed, stopping short when he walked right into Wood's solid chest.
"Glasses." Harry mumbled. "Forgot them in the soap-" He was cut off by a hard set of lips on his own.
"Wha-" Harry jerked back but was pulled right back in. Wood's lips moved gently over his own, and Harry's stomach began flopping around.
This was Wood. Oliver Wood. Quidditch loon, quaffle nerd extraordinaire. He hadn't said more than a sentence to Harry outside of practice in all the years he'd known him, and now they were snogging in the changing room like a couple of second years. As far as Harry knew, Wood wasn't seeing anyone besides the quidditch pitch, but why was he interested in Harry?
"Wood..." Harry spluttered as they pulled away. The quidditch captain was a grainy blur in front of him.
"I'm sorry?" Wood rumbled. "Should I be sorry?"
"No, no. It's-"
"I never really knew whether or not you were into blokes. Merlin, I should have asked first, but I've never seen you with anyone besides Weasley and Granger, figured-"
"Wood, shut up a minute." Harry said.
"-I would give it a shot, and you seemed so down after today's practice, I made a right git of myself and I've been incorrigible all season, I just-"
"Wood-"
"-wanted to give it a chance, and now it's-"
"Wood-"
Harry thrust a fist out, meaning to hit Wood across the chest to get him to stop talking, but Wood must have sat down on one of the benches while monologuing and Harry's fist hit something else.
"Ouch!"
"Bloody hell, I didn't mean to hit your face. I need my glasses." Harry grumbled, stumbling towards where he thought the shower entrance was. He hit the tile corner of the doorway and bounced off.
"Fuck!" Harry shouted, rubbing his shoulder. He tried again and made it to the shower stall, slipping a little as he grabbed his glasses.
"Why'd you hit me?" Oliver looked up from the closest bench, pinching his nose. "You don't like queers, Potter?"
"What? No, I-"
"That's sick, I thought you were better than that." Wood spat.
"Knock it off, or I'll hit you again!" Harry yelled, getting flustered. "It's not like that at all, you're talking too fast for me to get a word in."
"All right then, I'm listening." Oliver said icily.
"I don't dislike men... You just caught me by surprise. I've never had... Anyone really come on to me. Not to mention I was blind and you were monologuing. I'm not rejecting you, I'm just slow, mate."
"I see." Oliver was avoiding Harry's eyes, which was fine because Harry was avoiding his.
"I'm sorry that I hit you. I was trying to get you to be quiet, I can't see without my glasses. But I really didn't hit that hard..."
"I know, Look." Wood held up the hand that had been pinching his nose. "Clean."
"I know the glasses are a pain, but maybe we could try it again? Or maybe when we have our clothes back on?" Harry asked hopefully. "Like I said, 'M not opposed."
"Okay. Okay." Wood stood up and approached him warily. Harry gulped and was suddenly very aware of his hands. Where were they supposed to go?
Wood reached out a hand and took him by the chin, leaning in. Harry decided to put one hand on Wood's elbow and the other on his shoulder since he was taller, and then leaned forward-
"Ouch!" The both yelped, having knocked heads.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm no good at this." Harry muttered.
"Relax, Potter." Wood said. "The moment's gone."
Harry swallowed again. "I'm sorry."
"Get dressed, it's all right." Wood said gently.
Harry blinked and then went to his locker, fumbling with the catch. His face felt hot. Behind him, he could hear Wood rattling around in his own locker. It was otherwise silent as they pulled on their clothes. Harry's stomach was doing some funny flopping feelings.
What should he do? Should he ask to see Oliver again? Should he ignore it and leave? Should he try to kiss him again? He couldn't decide. Why would Oliver be interested in someone who didn't know how these things worked? Weren't there other seventh-years who were more attractive and... well, coordinated?
"Harry." Wood suddenly said from next to him, appearing fully dressed and making Harry jump.
"Easy now, you look like the Chamber of Secrets opened back up inside that locker." Harry looked at his locker and then back at Wood, shutting the door with a snap.
"Sorry, just got a bit lost in my head is all. Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot." Wood replied.
"What now? Like what should I do? I'm rubbish at people, Oliver. Tell me what you want."
"All right, Harry. I like you. If you're not opposed, I'd like to walk you to dinner. If that goes well, I'd like to walk you back to the Tower. If that goes well, maybe we can make some plans for tomorrow. I don't want to rush you, you've made it clear that you're not experienced."
"But... why me? Why me if I'm not experienced. Aren't there other people who are... um, well, better?"
"Not right now, and don't worry 'bout it. Just enjoy it, all right? Now let's eat, I'm famished."
Oliver led the way out of the changing room, extinguishing the lights as they left. It was completely dark out. As they headed toward the castle, Oliver ambled alongside Harry so that their strides matched and a companionable silence fell over them.