Erg, lovesick Wood. Blerg. Disgusting. Lovesick does not suit Wood.
Name: Oliver Wood.
Age: So wishing I was 18
Hair: Thank Merlin I stole some of Lee's hair gel this morning.
Current Mood: Trying to concentrate on Quidditch instead of Cally.
Current Location: Quidditch Pitch
So my team just stormed off. All of them. That was a bit embarrassing. Cally had to witness the whole thing, and she didn't say a word. She's probably thinking I'm a shambles. A push-over. A poor Captain. I was tossing a Quaffle between my hands, fidgeting, thinking of something intelligent to say while she just smiled at me.
"I'm sorry about – " I went to apologise, but she placed a hand on my arm and I had to concentrate on not fainting, babbling or melting. Or all of the above.
"It's okay. I don't mind if they don't like me. It's my fault for turning up unexpectedly. It looked like I was trying to steal Katie's position. You handled them well."
"I should have them all kicked off the team." I muttered.
"They have a right to be angry. It was a sudden manoeuvre and they were unprepared and left off balance." Holy Sweet Merlin she uses Quidditch metaphors just like I do. It's like she's speaking my secret language.
"We have a game soon." I managed to blurt out. "We weren't well prepared in the first place, and now my whole team isn't speaking to me."
"Oliver, prioritise. Which one do you think is more important – winning a school game, or winning a professional career with Puddlemere United?"
"Puddlemere, hands down." I answered quickly. I had to let her know where my loyalties lay.
"I'm 100 committed to Puddlemere and to you." I clarified. She blushed. Oh Merlin, did I say that? I didn't mean it that way. She snatched the Quaffle out of my hands playfully. Cally smiled shyly at me from under lowered lashes.
"Well, we better start practising then, Mr Oliver Wood, Puddlemere Keeper."
Oh gag.