Caerphilly Catapults - Beater 2: Romantic Pairing - Fleur/Oliver
[character] Oliver Woods
[object] Blanket
AN - I know he left Hogwarts after Harry's third year, but for the sake of the plot, he is still at Hogwarts in Harry's fourth year.
It was not love at first sight for them, regardless of what the stories others told said.
Everyone liked to proclaim that they'd locked eyes and their hearts had stopped beating momentarily to ensure they, then, beat in-sync, like a perfect metronome pair, for forever more. Accounts said that they had swooned for each other as passersby watched. That all it took was one shared glance across the Quidditch pitch and from that moment onwards, their lives were forever entwined.
What actually happened remained between them. The sordid truth that their love was not a bright spark from the start, but rather resembled a burning ember that slowly grew into a raging fire that engulfed all that stood among it.
Fleur had met him when he was training on the Quidditch pitch. It was not a spectacularly interesting meeting as everyone assumed, but she had glared at him from afar as he was taking up her valuable practice time with his silly Quidditch practice. It wasn't even that she was against Quidditch, but with the tournament on, it was just another distraction that tore her away from the glory her and Beauxbatons deserved.
She had glared at Oliver, with a look filled with distaste. He had squinted and then scowled back at her. That was their real first sight.
And, unlike what the tales said, it had not been life-changing, in fact, they had simply moved on with their lives. There was no pressing need for either of them to rearrange timetables or feelings. They had stuff to do and things that needed to get done. Neither of them were going to let one measly passing glare turn into a feud.
Except it did.
The small glares turned into angry stares which evolved into heated quick glances that just increased the tension between them.
It all came to a head on the eve of the Yule ball.
Fleur had turned up to the pitch to practice.
Oliver had turned up to the pitch to practice.
It had been double-booked, and neither of them were willing to back down.
They had stormed up to one another, faces full of fury as the witnesses watched on in eager anticipation. They stood in a rage-fuelled silence, faces so close they could each feel the breath of the other. Eyes alight with the rage that was fueling their souls.
Fleur had broken the silence first. "This pitch is mine for the hour."
"No. If you look, you'll find it is rightfully Gryffindor's."
"How dare you! I have booked it for tournament preparation and it is mine. You must leave, now!"
"The tournament only takes place every few years, whilst Quidditch is a Hogwarts tradition, there are seasons every year. I take precedence."
They remained at a stalemate. Neither backing down nor giving in, as the fury between them grew with every passing second.
"You must leave. I have booked it for Beauxbatons. Leave."
"No. The Gryffindor Quidditch team must prepare for next year. We can't afford to be behind and this is much more important than some fancy tournament for show."
This one moment between them had devolved into a screaming match and onlookers had bets going on who would win and the next minute, Fleur and Oliver were locked in a fierce battle of the tongues. Both fighting for absolute control over the kiss and neither willing to submit to the other.
They had screamed, they had snogged, they had left.
It was the end of it...
Until it happened again. And again. And again.
Then one day it stopped.
There was silence. The voyeuristic onlookers waited in anticipation, yet nothing happened. Fleur used the pitch and Oliver used the pitch, respectively. Neither of them crossed paths again.
The crowd of onlookers waited for the next move in desperation, yet nothing more happened.
In the open that was.
Under the secrecy of dark and shadows, they snuck away for secret meetings. The fire between them grew into a burning wildfire that could not be contained.
Oliver lay green blankets that blended into the landscape on the ground beneath them. They could lay upon them and fade away into the shroud of darkness that surrounded them. Softness beneath them meant they could pretend for just one night that this was not the cruel reality they were facing in which they were judged at every waking moment. Both of them wished that they could stay hidden, swaddled in the blanket like a newborn baby. Protected from anything and everything that could attack. An escape where nobody could sneak upon them and witness the love they shared, that burned with passion and shone so bright.
But that was not the world they lived in. Upon first light, both had to tear away from the arms of the other and part for their respective schools.
For he was from Hogwarts, and she was from Beauxbatons.
People simply didn't mix.
Onlookers soon lost interest, there was nothing more for them to watch and gossip about as time went on, so the information about Fluer and Oliver had dwindled.
That was until the final task.
Fleur had been revealed to have been under the Cruciatus Curse, and Oliver could hold back no longer. The blanket that had shrouded them in secrecy for so long had been thrown off, as he strode onto the pitch and engulfed her in a crushing embrace. Their mouths locked in a situation that mirrored one that so many had seen months earlier. Both of them were still too defensive and aggressive to really give in, but both feigning moments of weakness that let the other gain momentary dominance in their ruthless embrace.
Neither of them would be hidden behind the soft green blanket that had allowed them small moments of weakness to learn one another. Now they were a public masterpiece, and they were going to flaunt it.
Neither would show weakness. A fire roaring that would burn the other one to the ground before one would taper off.
They were a flame in the darkness, and they would show it to everyone who dared cross them.
Years later, their flame had burnt down, no longer resembling the forest fire it once was but a steady candle. It was a love looked after and tamed for a successful future.
They had settled down, the war long since over, and they had had time to come together as a family and learn from one another. They knew the ins and outs and what made the other tick. It was a life they had dreamt of and they were happier for the ability to live it.
The small family sat together, huddled up on the sofa, between them a precious baby girl. Born a week early and in such a rush, no one had been prepared. But she was perfect. And enclosed together in that same green blanket on which they had shared their real first date, it felt like home.