First off, I don't think you guys understand how excited your reviews make me! Thank you so much! So here's the new chapter, not as fluffy as the last one. Sorry if its kind of short. The next chapter should be up sometime over Christmas break!
The morning of the first Quidditch match, Deena was awoken at an ungodly hour. She swatted at whatever it was that was shaking her from unconsciousness, but the disturbance was relentless. Finally, Deena opened her eyes and faced her tormentor. She nearly screamed but quickly thought better of it and just glared at Oliver.
"What do you think your doing?" she hissed. She wasn't actually mad, just annoyed.
Oliver crawled onto her bed and shut the curtains. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
"No, not this early in the morning! Or late at night should I say? What time is it anyway?"
"Oh, I don't know, 5 maybe 4:30.. or something..." Oliver trailed off.
"You're crazy! I don't know what you want, but I'm going back to sleep." Deena pulled the covers up to her chin and laid back down.
"Can I stay here?" Oliver asked.
Deena sighed dramatically. "If you don't make any noise." She pulled the covers up over her head and struggled to fall back asleep, but she could barely even keep her eyes closed. "I can't concentrate," came Deena's muffled voice from beneath the covers.
"Concentrate on what?"
Deena threw the comforter off and sat up. "On sleeping. What do you want?"
"I want you, beautiful," Oliver took Deena's hands and tenderly kissed her forehead, "To practice Quidditch with me before the game." He rushed through that last part and then looked away.
Deena playfully smacked him on the head. "Its 4:30 in the morning!" she exclaimed, a little to loudly. One of her roommates groaned and said something in her sleep. Deena clasped her hand over her mouth and, after a moment of silence, laughed quietly. "Why so early?" She moaned softly.
"Because I'm a fanatic. You've said it yourself! And besides, you're still our reserve seeker. The only reason you've been getting out of normal practice is because of your *relationship* with the captain. Well, and because I know for a fact that Potter won't let us down, but anyway..." Oliver put on his best sad-puppy-dog look. "Please?" He could see Deena beginning to give in. "Pretty please?"
"Fine, but it may take me a couple hours to get ready. So why don't you..."
"Oh Deena, don't be silly. Why are you so stingy with your wand?" Oliver took out his wand and pointed it at her. He expected her pajamas to change into a sweater and pants but instead she was left wearing a frilly pink (hideous) dress robe. Along with the ugly outfit, her hair and makeup was done up rather horribly as well. Deena could hardly be mad at Oliver as he collapsed on her bed in silent giggles.
"S...Sorry," he sputtered at Deena, who was trying in vain to hide her amusement. "Let me try again." Deena flinched when he brought his wand down on her again. The second attempt was a bit more successful. Her ugly hair and makeup remained, but she was dressed in comfy practice clothes.
Deena yawned. "I'll meet you in he common room in five minutes." She kissed Oliver on the cheek and stumbled out of the bed to the bathroom.
Oliver paced around the length of the common room, his eyes never leaving the clock as he walked back and forth. He was getting nervous. Very nervous. The match was only six hours away now. Six hours! In six hours he'd be hovering in front of the Quidditch goals knocking away quaffles left and right - hopefully. Potter would be snatching the snitch and they'd win the game. Then they'd do it again and again until they'd won every game and were awarded the house cup.
Oliver was so caught up in his fantasy, grinning and muttering to himself, that he didn't notice Deena until she spoke into his ear. "You ready to go?"
"Yes," he said, jumping slightly. They made their way out to the Quidditch pitch in the cold morning air.
"It's freezing out here, Wood! And its still dark!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, get off it, Parkes. You love it. Just like old times, remember?"
"Yeah I remember. I remember getting knocked off my broom, and bleeding, and limping and bruises. And I remember loathing these ridiculous five in the morning practices."
Oliver was grinning broadly. He inhaled the frigid air and exclaimed, "Isn't it great?"
"Only you, dear, only you."
After what Oliver found to be an exhilarating practice at the Quidditch match, he and an exhausted Deena headed back to the castle. Of course Oliver was better than Deena, but she out up a fair fight.
"What time is it?" Deena asked as the trudged up the hill.
"Oh, I don't know, 7 or 8..." Upon returning to the castle, the duo learned that it was actually only half past six.
"Thats great," Oliver said excitedly, "We could go back out!"
"Oh no. No no no." Deena shivered at the thought of flying through the bitter wind for a moment longer. "We could back to bed."
"*We*?" Oliver smiled devilishly and cocked an eyebrow.
Deena playfully punched him in the shoulder. "Whatever, but I am *not* going back outside."
The two entered the deserted common room. The fire was roaring as usual and was particularly welcoming to Deena. She hurried over to the couch closest to it and sprawled out. With a deep yawn, she almost immediately fell asleep.
"Accio afghan," Oliver said with a wave of his wand. A scarlet and gold blanket from the opposite side of the room sailed into his hands. He laid it over Deena. She rolled over with it, muttering a incoherent thanks in her sleep. Oliver smiled to himself and sat at a table with his miniature Quidditch set in place before him.
Deena woke up with a start. She looked around and it was a few moments before she became aware of her surroundings. She was still in the common room but now there were a few people scattered about. Deena blinked a few times and noticed that Oliver was slumped on the floor against the couch, snoring quietly. Without moving from her comfortable position, she tousled Oliver's hair. "Wake up, baby," she whispered in his ear.
Oliver slowly came to and after an obvious instant of confusion, cried out. "What? Was I sleeping? What time is it?" He stood quickly, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Percy Weasley, a fifth year prefect, marched over to Oliver. "Its nearly nine o'clock, Wood," he said cheerfully, clapping his roommate on the back, "Ready for the big game? This is our year I know it."
Percy's last few words went unheard though, as Oliver opened and closed his mouth in disbelief. "Nine o'clock!? Is the rest of the team up? Bloody hell, how'd you let me sleep this long? Deena, go make sure Spinnet, Johnson and Bell are up. I'll go check on the Weasleys."
Deena watched in exhausted disbelief as Oliver hurried up the stairs. She finally mustered up the energy to trudge up the steps to the girls' dorms.
Deena sat on the sidelines of the Quidditch pitch along with two other reserve players; the reserve keeper, Oliver's good friend James Conor and a reserve chaser, a sixth year named Theo Lore. The three were huddled together around a small floating fire, warming their hands. A cheer erupted from the crowd and they looked up to see the seven members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team proudly mount their brooms. They kicked off and an overly-excitable Lee Jordan began his pleasantly biased announcing.
After a couple great saves by Wood, a goal by Johnson, and a penalty by Spinnet Gryffindor was up twenty to Slytherin's nothing. The Gryffindor's cheers changed to boos immediately as Slytherin took posession of the quaffle. They held their breath as Marcus Flint soared toward their goal post. A cheer erupted as he was hit in the face by a bludger, but the triumphant moment was cut short as anther Slytherin chaser gained posession and scored against Wood. 20-10.
As Deena shouted and booed, she was elbowed in the side by James.
"Parkes, look!" he cried pointing skyward. She followed his gaze and noticed Harry Potter zigzagging around on his broom. He seemed to have lost control. Slowly, everyone in the stands began to notice Potter's absurd behavior and all eyes were fixed on him. The entire crowd gasped as he was jerked from his broom and left dangling from it by one hand. Deena knew that he probably couldn't hold on much longer. After a minute or two of nearly silent suspense, Potter pulled himself back onto his broom. In the commotion, Slytherin had continuously scored, earning them another fifty points. Gryffindor needed to find the snitch.
Harry nosedived downward and showed no signs of stopping much to the dismay of the spectators. He continued plummeting and finally safely hit the ground. He clambered off his broom and staggered around, covering his mouth as if he was about to be sick. To the surprise (and confusion) of every single person watching, Potter spit something out of his mouth and held it up in the air. It was the snitch. Gryffindor had won. The rest of the team flew down and ran to meet Potter in a large group hug as the perplexed crowd cheered.
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