The Closest Thing Of Quidditch and Forgotten Homework

"You're the beauty that is deeper, than eyes can merely see. The closest thing to perfect, but the farthest thing from me." The great Oliver Wood finds the girl of his dreams the only problem is she despises him. Can he win her over or will she forever judge him by his faults instead of the beauty the lies beneath?

OW/OC rated pg-13 for language and just to be safe.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything about this except for those characters, places, and themes not present in any of JKR's books

A/N: sorry I know I said I was going to post this as soon as I got three reviews but my computer had a virius and was down for the last couple days so my apologizes and with out further ado…

He walked up to the head of the small class and sat but a book on the table. He turned to face us cheerfully with a youthful grin upon his face. It was then that I knew he was. And of course on this bad day I couldn't just keep this thought to myself, I practically yelled " Your James Handlen!" out to nobody in particular, not even stopping to wonder what James Handlen, keeper for the Scottish National Team, hero of all-Scots, honorary sex symbol, and notably the most eligible bachelor in Europe, would possibly want to be in Hogwarts for. "You know who Handlen is?" said Oliver from behind me in this annoying tone of voice that some said 'perhaps there is hope for this silly American with no brain' which made me look back and glare at him as if he were standing trail for killing my entire family for a Popsicle.

"Of course I know who Handlen is, any person with half a brain would know who James Handlen is. Alas, you don't fit anywhere near the description of someone with half a brain so I don't expect you too." I said frostily nether caring to discuss or look at the half-wit that sat opened mouthed behind my lovely self. This little comment by Oliver however inconsequential to him personally helped my conscious justice my harsh words before I was even starting to feel bad about them. He was a jock and his stereotype always assumed that anyone that had a decent level of intelligence knew nothing about sports and were hardly good at anything but school. I resented this label of my personality with the fiery passion of a thousand sweltering suns and it just went to show how people consistently try to judge on what they see. People are so much more complex and deeper than just the outside edges that we prick in our short lives. Oliver and his type don't know me, and his remarks only helped show his shallowness.

Landon Harris, not too subtly was then heard to whisper to his shocked friend as he tried to break the ice "Wow, she's a real firecracker that one is, I bet she's real good in the…" The teacher cleared his throat before he had the chance to finish his sentence. Of course had he actually finished he would have found himself in far more pain then he had ever experienced in his puny life, so he was lucky that the presumed James Handlen started to talk over his echoing whispers

"Ok, let's all settle down." He said urging with his hand for the class to sit down and shut up. "As the lady in the back so nicely informed you, I am James Handlen, but for the reminder of this year I would wish that you kindly call me Professor Handlen. Unfortunately professor Arundel has taken seriously ill and cannot perform his scholarly duties so I will be taking his place." He said calmly.

"But what about Quidditch?" was heard from a far distant slacker in the back of the classroom, driven out of his normal slumber by his curiosity of the famous keeper. "Ahh there is much more to life then quidditch and I'm afraid my left shoulder was wounded during the pre-season and I was unable to play in any case. Professor Dumbledore kindly offered me this job, knowing my secret wish of returning to Hogwarts." He smiled with a fondness as he said the schools name as if he belonged there and was returning home instead of being the actual stranger.

"Now, if I remember Professor Arundel I'm pretty sure that he has probably taught you close to anything he could remember, which is pretty much a dismal amount, so I think we shall begin anew. Firstly I will have you stop reading that ridiculous book. I'm sure we all know what a plug is by our seventh year and it is time for some real in depth knowledge of Muggles. So today instead of lecturing we will be experiencing a real muggle past-time. So just follow me." He said in a very attractive Scottish accent that was thick and soft like the purest handmade butter. He swept out of the classroom expectantly while most of us just stared at the door, which was now creaking shut silently in his wake. I nether wanting to hang out along with losers and jocks grabbed my stuff and walked out leaving the wide opened mouthed students still sitting in their chairs as they watched me leave. As soon as I reached the door I heard the squeaking of chairs as people rushed to follow. (I hate when people follow others some people seriously need to get minds of their own.)

Professor Handlen, as he was now known, led us on a brief walk through an assortment of back halls until he came to an empty hallway. He stopped, and proceeded to pace three times past a door thinking and uttering something under his breath. Finally he stopped and eagerly opened the door to this unmarked room. The inside was dark to our surprise until the professor lit up his wand to reveal rows of foldable chairs facing a blank screen.

My eyes lit up suddenly realizing what we would be experiencing. I had seen a muggle movie theater once before and it was utterly striking to see it so eloquently displayed in Hogwarts no less. The seats were rich scarlet with a deep rich faux velvet feel. Each seat was supplied with a small bag of buttery golden popcorn and a small coke to go with sitting on the arms of the comfy looking chairs.

I scored myself a seat next to the wall, which was strangely even cloth to the touch like a muggle theater would be and settled in for a treat. Though having only viewed only one movie in a theater, I was a huge fanatic of old movies from the star struck Hollywood era when romance and old-fashioned traditions were still hard kept. I admit deep within I was a romantic who loved to dream of some man dressed variably in suits or jeans would sweep me off my feet into that love you until I die love that couldn't be more rare or beautiful.

To my rare luck that day, mr. Handlen had choose just such a movie, An Affair to Remember, starring the famous Cary Grant. Never had there been a more favorite movie that I had seen. Both fated for marriage, they fell forbiddingly in love that could only cause tragedy. It was a classic and was mostly obviously a great choice for people who had never seen a movie before. I sighed as I settled in to my seat as the music rolled out with a content smile spread upon my face until an ominous shape literally fell into the seat next to me.

In the dark I couldn't see who it was, but as he threw his arm around my shoulders and leaned in close I began to have an idea. "So Martin," he said with a smooth English voice. "What did Oliver do to make you so bitchy towards him?" I rolled my eyes realizing that only one guy would have the balls to one, be this close to a girl he didn't know and two call her bitchy at the same time. "Firstly Harris," I said irritably, "I am not a human hanger, I personally don't appreciate you dragging your arm over me as if I was your cheesy last minute date to prom whom you picked up off some back alley whorehouse. Two, after causing my headache to swell to twice its size, then receive detention, and fail a crucial essay all in one day, I fell I have a right to be quote on quote bitchy to Oliver and who ever I damn want. Thirdly, since when do you care anyways? Don't you have some floozy to chase or something?

"Hey, Oliver's my friend alright! He is really put out, he seems kind of depressed and I just wanted to know what he did to deserve all the crap I've heard you gave him."

I rolled my eyes; "Yeah-right, Wood is depressed over something some meaningless girl said to him in potions class." "Well so depressed was a bad word." "Perhaps!" I said coldly trying to ignore the pest besides me. "Look Oliver didn't do the potions…" he started "Shut up will you, unlike you I happen to enjoy this movie and you are ruining every aspect of it for me. I don't care about Wood so will you please ether leave or be quiet." I hissed trying to shrink down, hoping to magically disappear. For some reason my wording worked and he didn't say another word through out the movie…

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