A/N: This story was conceived after many hours of instant messaging, planning trips to Scotland, and hundreds of romance novels. We own nothing but Ramsey. He's ours to keep.



Chapter 1: Quidditch Practice

Dewdrops glittered on the grass and flowers in the early autumn morning. The sun was just peaking across the horizon, but two figures could already be seen darting across the rust colored treetops of the forest. It was a secluded area, so therefore neither brother gave a second thought to zooming around on broomsticks.

"Come on! Is that the best you can do," shouted Ramsey Wood to his younger brother, Oliver who had just let a quaffle escape past him into the makeshift hoop behind him. "If you want to get off that pathetic reserve team and make the front line, you can't let simple shots like that one get by you," Ramsey advised.

Oliver Wood had dreamed since he was a toddler of being Keeper for a professional Quidditch team. Making the Quidditch team at Hogwarts in his third year, Oliver went on to become the captain of the Gryffindor house team, and winning the Quidditch Cup his last year at school. After graduation he was signed to the reserve team of Puddlemore United, were he currently wished to be first string keeper.

"Man! I've blocked 90% you've sent me," Oliver angrily replied, "You'd be happy if it was one of your players."

Oliver flew down to the ground and took a drink from his waterbottle, then returned to his position in front of the goals. Ramsey had enough force to break the sound barrier when throwing quaffles toward their target. That was part of what made him the excellent seeker he was--and assistant coach now.

At the age of 24 while playing for the Appleby Arrows Ramsey Wood took a nasty bludger to the left shoulder. No amount of magic could restore it to its previous level although he could still throw a mean quaffle. Feeling dejected and listless, Ramsey signed on as a special teams coach with the organization where he gained notoriety. After three years of working with seekers such as he once was, he moved up through the Arrows. Now at age 28, Ramsey Wood was one of the youngest Assistant Coaches the Quidditch league had seen.

"Good thing your not one of my players," Ramsey retorted with a smirk, "or you'd never get off that reserve team." Ramsey really thought Oliver was a great keeper, but he believed it was his duty to torture his younger brother.

It was the off season for Quidditch. Neither brother was scheduled to return for a few months. Fall was a time for a little R&R, which the Wood brother desperately needed--hence the reason they were vacationing in the isolated Isle of Skye. Normally neither Ramsey nor Oliver felt the need to escape, but their mother was pestering them to, especially Ramsey, to begin to think about settling down and having a family.

The Wood brothers continued to practice until the sun was now shining high above the forest. It was a perfect place to keep in shape during the off-season. Few people lived in this area. Most muggles stayed close to the shoreline a few miles away, where the nearest village was. For centuries muggles and wizards had lived together in Skye, the muggles being oblivious to the secret society in their own backyard. Witches and wizards blended in, adopting their dress and habits. Today few wizards lived this far north. Still there was a handful that continued to stay here. Most liked the isolation. Nothing exciting ever happened here. Occasionally livestock got loose or somebody got drunk and fell in the water while fishing. A perfect getaway for the two brothers' hectic schedules.

"Five more minutes then we break for lunch," Ramsey yelled across to Oliver. Ramsey though he was obsessed with Quidditch, but it was nothing compared to Oliver. Ramsey belted the quaffle at Oliver but was off the mark and it zoom past the hoops headed toward the forest.

"I'll go after it," Oliver said while zooming in the direction of the misguided quaffle. Maybe Oliver should have been paying more attention to where he was going instead of keeping both eyes on the red ball. Suddenly he was knocked in the head by a tree branch and dive-bombed to the ground. He was heading straight for the dirt road that ran along the other side of the group of trees that hid the lane from travelers.

Two figures who had been hiking for miles stared at him disbelievingly. Oliver's last thoughts were, "Oh, shit" before he went unconscious.