How to Seduce the God of All Quidditch Creation
An Oliver/Ginny Cookie
If Quidditch was the game of the gods, then by all means, Oliver Wood was their Zeus. And more than anything, Ginny Weasley wanted to be his Hera. She watched him fly overhead, warming up with the rest of Puddlemere United. Wood was only on the Reserve, unfortunately, even though he was the best Keeper Hogwarts had seen in centuries. Ginny had been to every single Puddlemere home match, what with their stadium being just five miles from Otter St. Catchpole and all. The team anthem was playing loudly from the hidden speakers, Celestina Warbeck singing "Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys and Chuck That Quaffle Here." Ginny had to admit to herself that the song was very ridiculous…
Ginny caught another glimpse of Oliver, talking to a girl in the front row the stand, five seats ahead of her. Her heart stopped, seeing him there, talking to that girl, near flirting with her. But it skipped a beat when she took a closer look at him. Face chiseled of granite, soft blonde hair ruffling in the light summer breeze. His uniform was clean, the golden bulrush emblem on the front shimmering slightly in the sun. She could see his eyes, the gray orbs, sparkling with laughter. An announcement was shouted over the sound system that the game would begin in five minutes, and would all team members please go to their locker rooms for the referee's equipment check?
***
Oliver came out of the locker room twenty minutes after the game had ended, hair still wet at the tips and his skin still moist from a brief shower. Walking across the darkened pitch alone, the last one to leave, Oliver thought he saw a glimpse of that shiny, scarlet Weasley hair, hair he had seen while talking to his sister in the stands… but how could a Weasley be flying in the air? He dropped his pads and uniform, and jumped on his broom before one could say Quidditch and began flying silently through the air over the pitch.
"Oliver…" a voice called from his right. Spooked, he nearly jumped off his broom, swinging hard to the right and peering out into the thick darkness.
"Over here, you!" the sweet voice called again, from his left. He swung again, and looked out to see a bit of paleness and a dark reddish blur. It whizzed by him, and he caught the scent of sweet baby powder and fresh rain. He followed the blur silently, listening to the musical laughter and smelling the sweet perfume.
"Who is that?" he called out, a bit of laughter in his own voice.
"You'd never guess, Olly," she replied, using a nickname he had never heard before.
"Then I'll try!" he exclaimed. She laughed at him, and flew across the pitch, making him follow her. "Ah…" he trailed off, biting his lip. He really had no one who it could be… not a red-head, anyway. The only girls he had ever known in school were Angelina, Katie and Alicia, yet they were all dark-haired.
"I… I don't really have any guesses," Oliver admitted to his mystery girl.
"I knew you wouldn't," she replied, sounding only the slightest bit disappointed. "I know who your favorite Beaters are."
"You know Fred and George?" he asked, surprised.
"Quite well, Olly," she sounded almost melancholy, but her voice brightened up once more as she continued, "They live in my house." And with that, she was flying by him again, giggling lightly as he racked his brain for an answer. What kind of girl would live with twin brothers? he thought.
After sitting there a while, the answer came to him. The kind of girl who was related to the bloody boys… And Oliver couldn't believe that it was Ginny Weasley sitting in front of him. The Ginny Weasley he had dreamed about each night since he had gone to Fred and George's graduation party two years before. The Ginny Weasley who now, herself, should be graduated.
"Ginny Weasley!" he shouted into the air, sounding quite gleeful and delighted.
"Oliver Wood!" she shouted back, sounding quite the same as himself.
"Get yourself over here, off your broomstick, and onto mine!" As his command echoed across the pitch, Oliver cringed when he realized just how differently it could be interpreted.
Hearing no reply a minute later, Oliver opened his mouth to call out her name, and found it covered by soft lips, filled with sweet taste. His heart pounded out a tattoo rhythm, their bodies molded together easily as she switched from one broom to another, sat in his lap comfortably, although she had absolutely no idea what could be in his pocket that was so hard. Ginny moved her hands to his neck, playing with the tendrils of hair that were curling softly around her finger tips.
"Oliver…" she murmured against his mouth, her breath as ragged and harsh as his own.
"Mmmm?" he replied, not even bothering to form a word.
"I do so enjoy being on your broomstick more than my own."