NOTES:
And sexual tension shall abound from now onward! And probably not just for this chapter! But sexual tension is our friend.
DEDICATION:
This chapter is dedicated to Ravyn, Princess SOBette extraordinaire. Just because.
DISCLAIMER:
If I actually owned Oliver in a kilt, I would have better ways to spend my time than writing fanfiction.
*~*~*~*
It was a very brooding, oddly behaving Captain who led the Puddlemere United team in practice that day. Sure, he was fanatic as always… so obviously, he wasn't dangerously, deliriously ill. And sure, he was doing all the same things that he'd always done.
But something was not right.
Either he was very, very uncaffeinated, or someone or something had disturbed him to the point that he was almost snarkier than Warrington. No mean feat, indeed.
And all of them had seen him drink his coffee that morning.
"FINNEGAN! What type of batting is THAT?!"
For the 38th time in two hours, Oliver Wood was sniping at one of his team. Seamus Finnegan rolled his eyes.
"Wood, I was off by about two inches. Not that bad, really…"
"Gaahhh! What are we going to do… World cup! World cup! I want as many of us to make it onto the All-star team as possible!"
"But Oliver… the All-star team committee has already decided… they're posting it in tomorrow's Daily Prophet. And you know that. You were only talking about that yesterday…" Harry pointed out, giving Oliver a curious look, "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Who'd you shag last night?" Warrington sniggered curiously, "Mind elsewhere, hmm?"
Oliver suddenly snapped. "NO ONE! NO ONE AT ALL! SOD OFF ALL OF YOU! I'M LEAVING!"
And as he Disapparated, the teammates glanced at the spot where he'd been a moment ago. Then, turned to look at each other.
"Well, what do you know? His tolerance for Warrington has gone down to an all-time low." Harry remarked.
"Nah… his mind is… elsewhere," Warrington said sagely. "I wasn't even trying to annoy him today."
"You don't have to," Harry Potter said sarcastically to the Chaser, "It's a completely natural part of your personality." Warrington chortled and bowed.
"Well... that was completely unlike him, though. Whatever could be wrong?" Kevin Entwhistle wondered aloud, "I mean... Wood, cutting a practice short like this?"
"I'll find out," Carl Warrington volunteered immediately, a smirk on his face.
The others, as if having some sort of secret agreement, all turned and pinned him with quelling stares while shaking their heads firmly. He raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Wood might have been snippy today, but cutting a practice short and giving us a break is a good thing," Zachary Turpin said, rolling his eyes, "We don't want to put him in Azkaban for attempted murder just yet."
Warrington sniggered, "You're no fun, bunch of ruddy spoilsports..."
* * *
The arrival of the Daily Prophet the next day was greatly anticipated by all Quidditch players and Quidditch fans. As soon as his owl had landed on his windowsill, Oliver Wood practically snatched bird and paper in, and tore the later open.
"... All-Star Team of England... Chasers Steven Cornfoot (22, Falmouth Falcons), Cassandra Flint (24, Holyhead Harpies), Carl Warrington (24, Puddlemere United). Beaters Kevin Whitby (19, Montrose Magpies), Skyler Zabini (21, Holyhead Harpies). Seeker Harry Potter (22, Puddlemere United), Keeper and captain... OLIVER WOOD (26, Puddlemere United)..." Oliver dropped the paper, eyes wide as saucers, then danced a quick, merry jig around his kitchen.
He made it! He MADE it!! He, and Harry, and... even Warrington the pillock... the others... hmm... Cornfoot was a fine, precise sort of Chaser, with a smooth, streamlined style of flying, and neat, even passes. His style reminded Oliver of Katie Bell's, back in the day. Whitby the Beater was known as "Whitby the Wonder"... the fellow, despite his young age, had a brutal frontal swing. Zabini was deceptively willowy-looking, but he'd noticed the bludger that she'd fired at Warrington during that game against the Harpies. She was probably the most accurate bludger-smacker in the past thirty years. And... there was Fl—Cass.
She was... a good Chaser.
More than good. The most ruddy talented, daring and determined Chaser he'd seen in a long, long time.
She was also snarky and harsh and fiery-tempered. And too wont to jumping to conclusions. And she carried her grudges against her family and punished anyone who spoke to her... for her family's hampering of her lifestyle and talents. And she was rude. And...
And she was damned talented. And unafraid to be exactly who she wanted to be, and what she wanted to be, despite the overwhelming odds against her favor. And she was witty. Interesting conversationalist... a bit on the acerbic and biting side of humor... but still. Knew her Quidditch. Knew well-nigh every bloody thing there was to know about Quidditch. Loved Quidditch.
And she was human.
Perhaps only when drunk out of her mind... but nevertheless... she had feelings. Granted, she would probably rather swallow a flaming broomstick and a bludger at once rather than to show them... but nevertheless...
She was a puzzle.
And she made his life damned difficult.
And now, she was on his team, under him. They would all have to work together in the competition for the World Cup.
This would prove interesting...
Painful at times, probably. Infuriating, definitely. But interesting nevertheless.
* * *
Cass Flint and Skyler Zabini had just walked into The Fat Fwooper for a light luncheon when they were waved over to a table by a grinning Carl Warrington.
"Hello, ladies," Warrington smirked at Cass, then gave Skyler a wide, cocky smile, "Did you read the news?"
"Not yet," Skyler shook her head and answered for the two of them, "Is there something that we should know?"
"Oh, of course not..." Warrington rolled his eyes and said dryly, "It's not a matter of any importance that you two both made it onto the All-star Team representing England in the World Cup..."
The two women were all of the sudden very still. Cass's eyes widened, and she stumbled backwards for a moment. Skyler grabbed onto the nearest chair back for support. Warrington raised an eyebrow.
"Well, well... don't faint on me now, you two... or if you must, please do it one at a time... even I can't catch two swooning damsels in distress at one time."
Cass rolled her eyes, "I'm not fainting, idiot... but ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"
"No, I'm Carl Warrington. Look for yourself... and please, again, do not faint..."
"Hmm... alert the press!" Skyler chortled, bending over the newspaper in Warrington's hands eagerly, "You actually admitted to something you couldn't do!"
"Oh no... how could I? I suppose I will have to learn how to catch two fainting maidens now... so that I will be perfect and reach godhood."
"You just keep thinking that," Skyler said indulgently, as her face spread in a huge grin, and she grabbed Cass in a quick hug. "WE MADE IT!"
Cass hugged her teammate back, "Yes... there's us, Cornfoot from my brother's team, the git who we were talking to a moment ago before we decided to ignore him, and there's Whitby from the Magpies to work with you, and Potter... and the Captain is... Oliver Wood?!"
Warrington grinned hugely to himself, "Should be fun, shouldn't it?"
Cass groaned, "Oh God no... anyone but him... I can't face him... Merlin... no..." her voice trailed off, and she buried her head in her arms.
"What's the matter with him, Cass?" Skyler asked curiously, "Just because he's seen you in a hospital gown doesn't mean that he's necessarily a mad axe-murderer after your blood..."
"No, no... oh unholy Heavens..."
Warrington raised an eyebrow, then put on a ridiculously stern, serious expression, "Young Cass Flint, is there something that you have been keeping from our knowledge?"
"Bugger off... blimey..." Cass's eyes were wide. Skyler Zabini and Carl Warrington exchanged a glance.
"Cass, it's time for a few questions and answers," Skyler said calmly but firmly.
"Indeed... have you been shagging Oliver Wood?" Warrington spoke up. Skyler swatted his arm.
"Ignore him."
"I know," Cass rolled her eyes, and Warrington put on a mock-affronted face. Skyler pointedly ignored all of this, and turned back to Cass.
"So, why the shock and horror at finding that you will be working on the same team as Oliver Wood, Cass? I don't think he's going to try to sell you as a harem girl to the Sultan of Persia."
Warrington guffawed, and Cass stared at Skyler's outlandish statement. The Beater shrugged, "My point being... certain oddities of personality aside, he seems a harmless sort. Why are you so worried?"
"N-nothing..." Cass shook her head, "I'm just... surprised is all... Say, hadn't we better gather together sometime?"
"Oh, of course. I think that everyone is to meet at the Puddlemere pitch at three this afternoon. Not for practice quite yet, but just to meet each other," Warrington told her.
"Right." Cass nodded blankly. "I'll... be sure to be there."
* * *
Three o'clock in the afternoon came all too soon.
She... didn't want to go. She didn't want to face him... ever see him again after what had happened the night of her dreadful date with Edmund Baddock. But... oh, Fate must have been a Warrington. Both of them knew just what people didn't want to have happen. And both had sadistic, evil senses of humor.
But... she went. At three o'clock, she Apparated to the arranged meeting place, a bundle under one arm, her broomstick held in one hand.
Most of the players were there already. Harry Potter, Carl Warrington, Oliver Wood. Skyler was lounging on one of the bleachers next to Warrington, looking interestedly at the others. Kevin Whitby Apparated in a moment after she did.
Cass grimaced slightly, and took a determined step forward. All right... to get the painful and humiliating part of this over and done with. And then to Apparate out of there as fast as humanly possible so as to not hear impertinent Warrington remarks and questions.
She strode up to Oliver Wood, her jaw tight; her face carefully expressionless. She would not blush.
Wordlessly, she handed the bundle under her arm to him.
Oliver looked at her strangely, but took the bundle in silence, and... horror of horrors, decided to open it up in front of the entire bloody team.
His Gryffindor robes.
The ones that she'd changed into that night at his flat. When she had made an utter despicable fool of herself.
He blushed a dull red, like a watered-down shade of the robes he held in his hands.
Warrington smirked, "Say, Cass... why'd you have his robes? Heaven knows he treasures them..."
Cass face-faulted, then deliberately let out a string of fluent and colorful profanities at Warrington's grinning face. And then, her face red as well, she left the pitch as quickly as she had come.
Warrington raised an eyebrow and turned his probing eyes towards Oliver. "So, how did Cass get those robes?"
"I refuse to discuss this," Oliver said stonily. Warrington sniggered.
"I see..." he let the statement hang, obviously indicating that he would draw his own conclusions from it. Conclusions that, based on his mindset and way of thinking, were probably extremely and horrifically depraved.
Skyler, next to him, shook her head. "Well... that's the start of a beautiful friendship, hmm? Practices should be... interesting..."
"They'll be fun," Warrington smirked. "I look forward to them greatly."
"You would."
"Why, don't you?" he looked at her with a mock-ingenuous expression. She stared for a moment, then laughed.
"Just a little."
*~*~*~*
Hehehe! More to come soon!