Author's note: In case this hasn't caught on yet...the story will be AU. Oliver and Amber are in their 7th year, Weasley twins in their sixth, and Harry and co. in their fourth. Since it does focus on Oliver and Amber, the events of the HP series will not be a factor.

Thought I'd let you all know in case you prefer more HP storyline-accurate fics...because this is not one of those.

Okay, enough mumbo jumbo! On with the story!

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Ch.03 Ohhhhhhhh SNAP!

Looking completely offended, Amber opened her mouth, about to yell at the insulter of her beloved past time, to verbally curse their soul into oblivion before they could even fathom the damage they had done to themselves. The words couldn't come, though, and she sat there sputtering nonsense.

He was just too BEAUTIFUL!

Tall and lean, strong shouldered, brunette, brown eyed…just too gorgeous for his own good!

Snapping out of her trance, Amber slapped herself on the forehead. Eyes glaring daggers, she pointed an accusing finger at the guy,

"You…you can't just SAY that about soccer!" she spat. He merely cocked his eyebrow and smirked confidently. "Arrogant little bug…" she grumbled to herself. From the people who knew her even remotely, it went without saying that Amber had the shortest fuse. The fire of defiance could spark up in her almost instantly. Usually, she'd come to regret it after…but it seemed an almost hopeless case for her.

"I think it's all fair and well when comparing it to Quidditch," he reasoned calmly. Amber caught notice of his Scottish accent, and the little voice inside her mind jumped with joy at the sound of it. She could only curse herself for being such a giddy girl on the inside.

"So troublesome when I'm trying to get angry," she thought to herself in dismay.

"Buddy, I think you're delusional," Amber said, crossing her arms defiantly. The Twins made sure not to interrupt, watching the two do battle. "You obviously have no idea what sort of trash you're spewing," she continued with a slight chuckle to herself. She willed herself to keep going, seeing his confident smirk start to fade, replaced by an irritated twitch of the eyebrow.

"Like…Quidditch is played on broomsticks, if I remember correctly. Surely, a Quidditch player stands little to no chance in comparison to the physical and athletic ability of a great soccer player!" she said daringly, watching his fists clench and unclench. "Its an alright game and all…but just can't compare to the intricacies of the TRUE 'beautiful game'. It's elementary, really."

"Look at Wood, he's steaming at the ears…!" Fred whispered to George as they watched the two, both of whom were standing now.

"Quality entertainment…Ron and Harry should've been here to see Wood lose his cool…Amazing!" George whispered back, grinning from ear to ear.

"You, little girl…have no idea…! A lot of nerve…! Must be crazy…!" he sputtered, pointing at her, trying unsuccessfully to string a coherent sentence together.

Amber pouted her lips mockingly, pulling her "sad face". "Awww…did I hurt lil Quidditch boys feelings?" she asked snidely. She was directly in his face now, craning her neck a bit, but still fearless despite the obvious height difference between the two.

"Let me tell you this, you little brat. Someone like you, who adores a Muggle sport, really shouldn't be saying anything about Quidditch because quite frankly, it is far from being comprehended by you little brain," he said between gritted teeth.

"Little?" Amber repeated with a snort. "I'll tell you what's little…you know what they say about Quidditch players, right? Need a stick between their legs to make up for what's missing dow-"

"Alright now, children…" Fred said calmly, holding Amber back by the shoulders and seating her on one of the benches.

"Time to play nice now! Wouldn't want to be sent to Azkaban for offing a fellow student, now would we?" George reasoned, seating Oliver on the opposite bench. Although the Twins did love to see a good brawl, they figured such a rift between their team Captain/friend and their new friend wouldn't bode too well in the future. And by the sounds of the two's verbal jousting, they would either begin tearing at each other's throats or die trying.

"There we are now…happy little family, right?" Fred asked, making sure to keep a careful eye on the two lest they jump from their seats. "Now, for proper introductions! Amber, you first now."

"Come on Amber…" Fred urged, draping his arm over the livid girl's shoulders. "For me…?" he asked again, pulling his best puppy dog eyes, which would have been laughable if it weren't for the two very grim compartment passengers.

"Amber Owens…" she grumbled, shooting a poisonous look over at her now sworn enemy.

"I say your name far precedes your disposition," Oliver commented coolly. "Black Coal is much more fitting," he added.

"Oh, really? Well, please bestow upon me the honor of hearing your great name, Mr. Hot Shot."

"Oliver Wood," Oliver said shortly and snappily.

"Ironic last name if you ask me…" Amber commented offhandedly.

"Um…George, the tea trolley!" he pointed over to the corridor before the two could get fired up again.

"Of course!" George sang, sliding open the compartment door in order to get a "little bit of everything". Amber and Oliver merely continued to exchange angry glares, the tension obvious despite being on completely different sides of the compartment.

"Cauldron Cake, Amber dear?" George offered.

"More like the devil…" Oliver muttered under his breath. Amber glared over, their eyes locking on…both daring the other to make another move.