A/N: In the past few hours almost I've developed a strange fixation with the wonderful world of Oliver Wood/Cedric Diggory ships (when Cedric was alive, of course). Sadly, I found almost no stories about the two and, realizing there were just far too few, I decided to write one of my own. It's nothing much, just something that I wrote late at night when I majorly needed sleep...Sooo, without further ado, I give to you my little one-shot of Oliver Wood and Cedric Diggory. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I am not JK Rowling. If I was, I'd be busy at work writing the 6th book, instead of writing O/C fan fic stories. So there's really no need to sue, because you wouldn't get much anyway.
Warning: While it's all Oliver's perspective after Cedric has died, this does deal with implied slashy thoughts (that's boy lovin boy – not that there is any of that in this story) so if it irks you in anyway, the back button was designed with you in mind. And there's a little bit of self-mutilation at the end, but I don't think it's too bad.
Oliver Wood stood in front of the simple gravestone, grieving silently. His head was bent low in sorrow and silent tears racked his lean body. With a sudden jolt, as if by magic (no pun intended) the world-renowned Quidditch player's knees collapsed and he fell to the frozen February ground. Six feet under lay his love, his life, the man he never got to know and now more than ever wished he had. It was so much more than a silly schoolboy crush, and years of self deception and silent counseling with him self would not change that.
Oliver felt like his heart had been ripped in two, the day he heard the news. Harry Potter, savior of the Magical world, the Boy-Who-Lived (and maybe the best damn seeker he had ever seen), had won the Triwizard tournament and the unrequited love of his life had been carelessly murdered at the hand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's most faithful servant. How he wished he had been there, somehow been able to block the killing curse, taken it him self and spared an innocent life. But Oliver Wood hadn't even been in the country at the time, instead he was half way around the world, speaking out about the wonder of Quidditch to impressionable young minds. How foolish he felt now. He should have been there. He cursed him self for not being in the stands, for not telling Cedric how he felt sooner, for not – for not doing anything. For being helpless, hopeless, unknowing. And he cursed him self once more, for standing by the grave of the young man he never got to know, the young man who had so much to offer, despite his humble Hufflepuff house background. The world was a colder, number place without Cedric Diggory, and no one felt the cold deeper than Oliver Wood did.
Time passed slowly, leaving Oliver behind, oblivious to the harsh winter winds, the frigid air, the light dusting of snow falling on his light brown curls. After what could have been hours (he had no sense of time anymore), he shifted slightly and felt something in his pocked pressing against his leg. He reached into the deep hollow of his pocket and slowly pulled out the simple pocketknife. He turned the tool over in his hand, examining it from every angle. He flicked the blade out and drew the blade lightly across his palm, drawing forth a thin line of blood. As if in a trance, the famous Quidditch player placed his palm on the cold, snow-covered ground, wincing slightly when the cut met the snow.
His mind wandered to what might have been...images of the two of them lying spent in bed, the younger man resting with his head on his lovers chest...walking down the main street in Diagon Alley, hands clasped, laughing loudly at the sheer joy of being alive...a family, a home, a life together... all that could never, would never be. All the things that so many took for granted could be swept away within the blink of an eye, Oliver decided. It didn't even give you time to wonder why, that came later.
He thought back on his life, years spent growing up in Scotland, getting his Hogwarts letter, playing keeper for the Gryffindor team, becoming Quidditch captain, winning the cup, the game – his throat constricted strangely at this memory – the game against Hufflepuff. The game they lost...the only game he ever lost. He remembered contemplating drowning him self in the shower afterwards...and spending the whole 2 hours in the showers thinking of the infuriating Hufflepuff seeker instead. His last year at Hogwarts...leaving Hogwarts, going on play for Puddlemere United, the year Cedric – at this, his mind stopped. His memories would go no further. His world had stopped abruptly that year, and he had crashed unceremoniously into oblivion.
Depression didn't suit the usually content keeper. He sunk lower and lower into darkness, until he – along with the rest of the world – hardly knew who he was. He continued playing Quidditch, but the fire was gone, and the fans noticed. Avid Oliver supporters couldn't explain it, nothing like this had ever happened to their beloved keeper before. He turned moody and insomnia hit him over the head like the blow of Thor's hammer. Firewiskey became his only companion. And so four years passed. Harry Potter vanquished the Dark Lord, and the magical world got on with business. But Oliver Wood was stuck in time. He couldn't move forward in life, he could only look back, on death.
Something shifted within him and with a sudden quickness uncharacteristic of the new Oliver, he grabbed the knife from where it had fallen to the ground, brought it to his heart, adjusting his hand so it pressed in; just enough to make a drop of blood appear on his starched white shirt. The red tear got bigger and bigger until popped, leaving a red stain on the spotless fabric.
As he contemplated death, his memories turned to fantasies...more dreams of what might have been. That's all they would ever be...dreams, with no chance of becoming reality.
His hand grew cold with impatience, and he pressed the knife in deeper, ready to escape from his pain. He felt sane, saner than he'd felt in a long time. He wasn't exactly happy, but the knowledge that he'd be with Cedric soon brought tears to his eyes and he felt more alive than he'd felt since that fateful day. Leaning his head back from its resting place on the gravestone, he looked up at the gray sky. The snow was falling more heavily now and the sun had given up its fight with the clouds, retreating behind them, biding it's time till the sky had cleared. Something caught his eye and he turned around, startled.
A/N: that my friends is what you call a cliffhanger. This was originally going to be a one-shot but I decided to push my self and see if I could commit gasp to something longer. Maybe, if I get enough reviews, I'll make this a two-shot! (if there's even such a thing). Thanks for reading and don't forget to review (we don't want there to only be one part of the R&R now do we, cause that first little r will get awfully lonely without his friend, little r #2). So be a dear and R&R
-BurntReflections