Disclaimer: I don't own any of Harry Potter. That's all JK Rowling. I only have my plot and the clothes on my back.

Summary: Oliver Wood is troubled. He isn't sure, of oh so many things anymore, not even Quidditch. Luna Lovegood finds the magic in flying, and reminds him, everything will be ok.

You'll Be Alright Mr. Wood

Writer: Krystal

Luna 'Loony' Lovegood was never a star Quidditch player, fast-seeker, keen Chaser, or quick thinking Keeper. She never really enjoyed the thought of riding on a broom in her short-lived life. When she had to, once, in her first year for Madam Hooch, she left with a terrible haunting. She had fallen off the old and ancient broom, around 10 feet in the air, and had the wind knocked out of her. Having that said she wasn't very keen on riding another broom for as long as she possibly could.

But the intentions of her mother made her act otherwise. Her mother and father sent her a gift, the day before everyone left for holidays. She would stay at Hogwarts this year, seeing as her mother and father were to be touring Egyptian tombs for articles in The Quibbler. Wondering why her parents would send her a gift before Christmas, she was very happily to oblige herself and open the gift in her common room. The site before her eyes made her gasp with shock, terror, and complete delight to her dismay. A Firebolt laid perfectly in the long narrow package. Dark mahogany wood carved perfectly to withstand a good bashing of weather, crashes, and maybe a good whack on the head now and then. The straw was cut and neatly prim-looking to make it almost seem plastic. Gold, flourishing letters shouted out its name, in all its glory.

'Dear lord, this must have sent mummy and father back quite a bit…' All the same, she couldn't help but grin like a maniac at her gift, writing a mental note to thank her parents later.

Luna grinned from ear to ear, and took it out, holding it a foot away, appraisingly looking it up and down, and hugged it, in a cuddly way. Looking quite smug she packed up the rubbish and threw it away. She decided it would be nice if it had a nice go-around on the Quidditch pitch.

Dressed snugly in her Ravenclaw coat, blue and silver knitted gloves, and blue and silver knitted scarf her silver-blonde hair danced behind her as she ran to the Great Hall. Holly earrings bouncing to and fro as they dangled from her ears and a necklace made of bottle caps of butterbeers jingled happily as she ran. Anyone who saw her looked after her, the sight of the broom peaking their interest.

Her destination? The Quidditch pitch.

Oliver Wood was not having a good day.

Not a good one. At. All. Becoming terribly upset that his team refused to practice in the snow, he glumly went back to the locker room and sat there, thinking of plays for their next match. This was his last year for the Quidditch Cup, and he was determined to get it, by any and all means necessary. He had spent much of his time in the lockers, thinking of tactical plays, all of which were brilliant if you asked him early, as he was making them up. But then he became unsure, and began to make out flaws in the plays. He did this to himself, he knew it, he never tried to, but it always occurred. He made flaws come out in everything, things that he could just make up, things that were nonexistent. It drove him batty.

He clenched his jaw, a defined muscle sticking out from his chin. He was thinking, about how he always compared everything in his life to Quidditch. He loved the sport, probably more than one obsessed person should be, but it left him to wonder, 'Am I going to be this way all my life? What if I can't make it into any Quidditch League team? Will there be anything else for me?'. These questions made him angry, because more than once he had gotten a speech by a teacher or friend that Quidditch wasn't everything.

'But how do they know…how I feel when I push off the ground, holding onto the broomstick, and leaving everything behind. I could stop, surely, and stay up there forever, getting lost in the extremity of a game. The intense force of being hit by a bludger or getting hit in the head of a quaffle wasn't fun, sure, but feeling like your doing things that only a lunatic would do is something in itself all together.'

There was also the plain enjoyment of being on a broom. No one appreciated it as much as Wood did. He couldn't tell you how it felt to him, surely any other poet could, but Wood always would want to tell it to you the right way, and with Quidditch, everything had to be perfect.

Luna stared at the scene outside on the pitch, and she decided the pitch wasn't all that bad. As long as there wasn't a Quidditch game going on.

She mildly forgot that she was wearing her uniform under the robes, and pursed her lips, cursing herself in Turkish (a new habit) as she felt a cold breeze go up the skirt. She was warm enough though, and did not mind in the least. She wasn't quite sure why she was so excited, she hadn't rode a broom since last year, and never learned properly how, but she felt quite sure that the aura from the broom was erging her to ride it with no fears. And so she did.

She kicked off from the ground, on the sidelines, not wanting to walk on the beautiful sheet of fresh snow that blanketed the field. The millisecond before she took off, she suddenly thought it was a bad idea, but a millisecond after she was up in the air she felt the most terrifyingly extravagant feeling she had ever experienced, and knew that her aura was right, and that this was perfect.

Oliver had not felt any better then he had a few moments ago, placing his head in his hands and looking at the ground. He closed his eyes, wondering what he should do with himself, and pondering about his tough pre-graduate decisions for his life ahead. He opened his eyes, in a quick thought, and looked outside. It was dark. He walked to the door and opened it. It was snowing. Grabbing his school coat and scarf he walked outside, being blistering cold outside, despite no winds blowing. He looked around, as he walked up to the stands, and drew in the sites of the snow, peaceful, and untouched. It calmed him slightly. Walking up to the top stands he sat in the first row, two stands away from the posts on the left, nearest the school. Placing his head in his hands, he rubbed his temples, his elbows placed on his knees.

He lifted his head at the sound of laughing.

Yes, Luna was laughing. Her laughter filling up the empty field, echoing throughout the deserted stands. She was having, quite possibly, the greatest time of her life. There was no numbness from cold, for her energy rising up inside her warmed her enough, the flush in her cheeks from pure joy. She flew up above the top stands, and swerved through them, pretending she was in a Quidditch game. (Lord save her). She laughed as she slightly lost control, the broom swerving just a bit to the right, and she jerked it into place. She laughed because it was enticingly frightening. Not having the tiniest shred of decency anymore, (or having any to begin with) she took off her scarf, the piece of clothing flying into the wind as she whipped through and through the topmost stands like orange cones. Her long silver-blonde hair flew out of its ponytail, and whipped around her face, and behind her unmercifully. She laughed, whipping dangerously close to a high-stand, flying just above where the heads of people would usually sit, her arms spread out freely, like an eagle.
Oliver watched in pure horrifying interest as the body that carried the laughter whipped through the stands and around the pitch so eloquently. The person, whoever it was, was moving the broom without any care at all, and they were laughing. He did not know if the person was mad, to be flying in this cold weather, or extremely happy about something. His eyes curiously followed the broomstick, mouth slightly agape and his elbows still placed on his knees. His head went from one end of the pitch to the other, watching at the broom and its rider's antics. It went in loops, it went unbelievably too high in the air, a good 75 feet up, the broom swerved quickly in a quick turn nearly knocking its carrier of their broom by flying them into the middle post. The broom was suddenly down lower, and Oliver leaned over to see the broom more clearly- or it's rider. His breathe caught in his throat as a scarf fell off and he saw the most undeniably gorgeous site he could see as the broom whipped right past him.

It was a girl, with a small, pale face, it look slightly heart-shaped. Her arms were spread out like an eagle as she sped by him, but the picture stuck in his mind of her face in pure joy a relieved smile on her face, as if dreaming. Her hair was the most eye-catching thing of herself. Flowing in the wind madly, it shone off of the moon's rays like it was the gleaming moon itself. Pure silver, a fletching blonde flickered now and then as it whipped unmercifully around her cheeks and face.

He was sure he'd never get rid of the picture in his mind again, as he sat there, his mouth slightly opened and his eyes now tracing after her hungrily.

Luna's delight was simply delicious as she asked in it. She did the craziest thing she could think of, smiling to herself as she slowed the broom down a bit, and took her hands and placed them firmly up more at the head of the broom. Picking herself up as the broom glided slowly, she placed her feet on the broom, praying to the Bulgarian Onion Sheepherder's that she did this right. Picking herself up, she glided on the broom, her feet firmly placed on the broom, balancing herself with her hands. She was surfing! On a broom! Luna grinned to herself evilly, giving herself a nice pat on the back mentally.
He couldn't believe it. He just could NOT, believe it. The girl had not only given Oliver the best (and probably only) mind snapshot of some mysterious-highly-attractive-broom-rider in his 17 years of life, but she was doing the craziest things, and almost impossible things, on her broom.

She must be a top rider. She had to be. How else would she be able to ride a Firebolt so smoothly and make it seem so…easy? (Yes, him being Oliver, he knew it was a Firebolt, for one, he studied every single broom and their speed, form, and ability to fly; two, Harry rode his all the time during practice, and he knew no other broom to match up to the speed of his Firebolt but hers matched it).

He ran down the stairs faster than he could say 'Quidditch Quidditch Quidditch'. He had to meet her, or only to see her. He ran around to the field, and into the middle of it, where she was sure to see him. His mind thought quickly, but only got muddled when he saw the girl so smoothly ride the broom like a surfboard around the field, going a slow speed, and barely a foot off the ground, the straw making small marks in the fresh grass. She was so worked up in her dreamy look, she had not noticed him, but went by him a good 7 times. Each time Oliver's head turned quickly to catch a longer glimpse at her.

Luna decided to close her eyes, and let her broom guide her entirely. She believed in things happening for a reason, so if she ran into a wall, so be it! She'd just get up and do it again anyways. A silent and dreamy look passed on her face, tilting it up to the sky and sticking out her tongue, a new sheet of snow falling from the clouds. She moved the weight of her feet back and forth the broom moving from side to side. She leaned backwards and the broom lifted up a bit more, she could feel it. She opened up her eyes, large and shining blue, and her glazed look making her seem serene. She swerved through the posts, lazily making an 8 figure in the snow. And then she noticed him.
He saw her look at him, and he nearly blushed, but the cold subdued his hot cheeks. He looked at her fully, taking in the site of her. She was too far away for him to see her extremely well, and the new falling snow created a veil between them, if you would. She had stopped flying, and gently landed the broom in the snow. Stepping off of the handle, she looked at him, and tilted her head (from what he could make out). She got on her broom again, and glided towards him. 'Dear Merlin, I think may have a heart attack. If I do I'll have to kick my arse though, best try not to then.' His incoherent thoughts were penetrated by the sound of snow crunching under small feet. He looked down, and saw a small girl. She was not even older than a 3rd year. She was enticingly gorgeous though, in the rays of the moon shining down on her pale, pale face and silver-blonde hair. Her hair was long, to her shoulders, and was wrapped around her tiny frame in a haphazard way, that made him think of the tiny Porcelain dolls that his sister played Tea Time with. Her face looked like a China doll, except for the eyes which were large, like a deer in headlights, but a deep blue.

She suddenly grinned, giggling slightly under her breathe, like she hid the biggest secret from Mr. Wood ever. She held up a peace sign and stuck out her tongue slightly, giving him a wink. For some reason, he was blushing a ravishing red by now, his ears, neck, and nose the same color. She knew he was down here for a reason. But her time was well spent by flying, so he speaking would ruin it perfectly, taking her out of her blissful dream.

Oliver thought the same, hoping she wouldn't speak, and ruin her attractive beauty. She smiled at him dreamily, and spun in a circle, her arms spread wide, a large grin on her face. Then she held her arms out, as if saying, 'Ta-daaaa!'. He slightly smiled at her, giving a smirk that was well-known. She stood there then, as they both stared at each other, peering into the others eyes. Hers looking up interestingly into his, as if reading him, and it made him feel naked, while his poured down into hers sending her a desperate message of questioning.

Her hands placed behind her back, she spun around once more, trying to keep warm, but smiled up at Mr. Wood nonetheless. How did she know that he would not know her? Most people don't know her, or try to for that matter. Especially not the 7th years, defiantly not them. But she didn't mind the solitary social life she had, she in fact, loved it. No one could judge her, and she never judged herself. Looking up at Wood made her think that he was quite embarrassed, or quite pleased, one or the other. She really had no idea. She smiled once more, her cheekbones lifting to make her eyes crinkle a bit, and took a step towards him.

She took a step towards him, and he almost blew up from anxiety. Is that the way to describe anxiousness? He hoped so, because that was how he felt. He gulped, maybe a bit too loud for the silence, and decided to speak. "You-" But she cut him off, her lips pouting out, and her finger set over them, and made the softest 'shh' sound he ever heard, but indeed heard it as the wind blew into his face.. He had stopped talking immediately, barely getting his word out he had stopped so quickly in fact. His heart was pounding softly, having imagined her finger on his lips to shush him, and then her lips on his. She was driving him batty, and she wasn't even speaking. He got the rush he only received when he pushed off the ground on his broom. Her silent voicing of a simple "shh" hit him like a bludger to the head, and she was so random and unpredictable, he felt that he was the keeper in a match, and she was the quaffle, and she kept shooting in, one time after the next, and he had no clue where she would be aimed next.
She winked at him once more. She had saved her dream, having the wits of Dumbledore at that moment, she knew he would try to speak. With a simple indication to her lips to stop speaking, and a silent, 'shh', he had stopped speaking before the first word got out of his mouth. She smiled and picked up her broom, mounting it with a wink. She saw color come to his face again and she grinned, laughing out loud, her eyes shining with her mirth. She kicked off, as she saw his hand darting out to her and she quickly sped back up, up, up and away! When she was in a cloud, she moved forward a few feet, and then moved her broom back down at a slow speed, making sure she wasn't seen. She smiled to herself; she knew exactly what that boy needed!
He was still staring at where he had missed her, and felt a lurch in his stomach. He felt bad, and ashamed. He saw the way her eyes gleamed as she laughed; she was laughing at him. The girl had not only been the one person who he had suddenly, probably, most likely fallen bloody head over heels for, she was also the girl who just cracked his heart open. He sighed, and coughed. Thinking to himself. She was in Ravenclaw, he could register that much, but he never remembered seeing her before,- anywhere. Where would he find her? What would he do- or say for that matter- if he did find her? He had to leave tomorrow, he would never have enough time to see her again. There was a small giggle behind him. He whipped his head around quickly, and there she was, smiling like a sneaky little imp, leaning forward on her broom towards him, hovering at his height. He blinked, and before he could do anything else, she spoke.

"Don't worry Mr. Wood, you'll be fine." She smiled, not really knowing what her words meant, but felt he needed to hear that everything would be ok. Then she did a very instantaneous thing, and leaned forward.

He never quite got over that kiss. It wasn't on his lips per-say. When she leaned forward his face went rigid, his face flushed once more, and he felt her soft pink lips kiss the left corner of his mouth, and it was the most caring, carefully placed kiss he ever had. When she broke from his mouth, her face twitched into a smile, grinning brightly after a flash of a second. She quickly winked at him, once more, and then she was gone…up in the air.

When she had spoken, he thought her words alone was enough to make him feel like a new man, but her soft placed, friendly kiss assured him that everything would be fine, and he figured from then on, to just let things happen as they came. When that time came, that he was walking down the hall months later, after finally winning the Quidditch Cup, that he saw her, he knew that she was right, and always would be. His eyes flickered to her and her large, doe eyes, the long silver-blonde hair, her Ravenclaw robes. Her eyes flickered to his dark chocolate brown eyes, the ones that made him seem oh-so serious, all the time. It was then that Luna 'Loony' Lovegood saw Oliver Wood's eyes, anew, and beamed at him, giving him a wink, that made him blush. She smiled, her soft laugh following him as they walked past each other. It was only a few seconds later, he heard a giggle, behind him once more. He whipped around, and saw her standing there. She smiled, and tilted her head. "Told you you'd be fine Mr. Wood." and faster than she could say 'Quidditch' he picked her up in his arms and kissed her lips, fully, and softly. He whispered to her, his lips grazing against hers, "I'll be fine now."

The End

A/N:
Hey, wow. I think I did a pretty good job of that.
That's inspired me to make a story of Oliver and Luna. HAHA.
They'd be cute I think.
I dunno. I like odd couples.
Not like Hermione and Draco though, or Snape. That's just WRONG and defies the ethics of the Harry Potter world you sick, sick people. o.o!
Review please I'd luff you all forever.

Sincerely,
Your Author,
Krystal