The Houses Competition, Round 2
Hufflepuff, Ancient Runes, Drabble
Betas: Queenie, Bea, Binte
Prompt: (Character) Charlie Weasley
Word count: 976
Warnings: None
AN/ In my mind, Oliver was a Charlie Weasley fangirl and the man was his inspiration. Here's a fic that reaffirms that. Bear in mind that this is a mild parody of those iconic sports pep talks, so it's meant to be slightly cliche :)
(Low key inspired by it being the Semi-Finals currently in Quidditch League, so go Catapults :D)
'End of a Season'
Oliver stood silently near the Quidditch team in the Gryffindor locker room. His eyes were flashing between the stadium entrance and the raging storm that waited for them and his left Keeper glove that he couldn't seem to put on right. He didn't say anything about it, nor did he fiddle with it as he usually would have. He was currently trying to concentrate on not breathing too loudly.
The team all stood in the middle of the room and he was with them. They were silent too, each probably visualizing their match or thinking about the glory that might come if they won. When they won.
It was too late for doubt.
They'd come too far for that. The finals were not the place for that to start, Oliver knew this. He knew that critique and analysis of gameplay came after a match, but hope and determination came before. He knew it well because Charlie told him so.
Next to him stood a burly sixth-year Beater with closed eyes and fingers laced together. He was praying. Oliver was starting to consider whether he might try praying himself when the Beater in question's eyes opened and his neck snapped to the door. He let his own follow suit.
In walked their captain, their coach, and their Seeker, Charlie Weasley.
Charlie strode into the room dressed in his full leather gear, his chin up in confidence, and eyes fierce with passion. His golden Captain's badge shone on his chest, worn with pride and without a word, he had the entire team's attention.
As he reached their circle's center, he took a moment to turn around and take in each person's face and body language, occasionally nodding at them. Oliver was a firm believer in the power that a Charlie Weasley 'I believe in you' nod can give you. When his gaze reached Oliver, he instantly took notice of the wayward Keeper's glove and gently took Oliver's hand to refasten it.
After doing so with a quick practiced hand, he dropped his Keeper's hand but kept eye contact.
And then he nodded at him.
Charlie Weasley nodded at him. Oliver could feel his heart surge up with sudden belief in his own ability.
Charlie Weasley believed that he could keep, he believed that he could defend their team from goals in the finals. Charlie believed in him.
Sure, Oliver might have gotten all of that from a singular nod, but actions spoke louder than words.
His captain nodded at him again with a look of what was surely confidence, Oliver thought he might burst, and then turned to stand in the center of their roughly formed circle.
He spoke clearly and with no hesitation, "In our first practice this year, I asked each of you what your goal was for this team and yourselves. You all told me the exact same goals. Anyone remember them?"
The Beater-who-had-been-praying from next to him whooped, "FINALS, CAP." Oliver tried not to wince.
Charlie snorted, "Yes Brown, we were looking to grow and reach FINALS." Oliver found himself cheering with everyone else. "And here we are, baby."
"We stand here today in this disgusting locker room more in sync as a team than we've ever been before. We're better than we ever were before and I couldn't be more proud." He was grinning at them, and Oliver felt himself grinning back.
The cheering that Oliver was somehow a part of was deafening. All six of them were screaming like they'd already won and Charlie was trying to be irritated. It wasn't working.
He had a hand on his hips, the other half covering his face, not completely successful in hiding the wide grin. "I—" He was cut off by the roaring cheers of the team.
He rolled his eyes, "I COULDN'T—" He was cut off again and he looked seconds away from silencing the lot of them, "ALRIGHT, LISTEN HERE YOU ARSEWIPES," Oliver snorted loudly, "I PREPARED A BLOODY SPEECH AND I WILL SAY IT, EVEN IF I HAVE TO WITH A SONOROUS—" and then, almost ridiculously at once, there was silence.
Some Chaser who Oliver was sure went by the name of Locks let out a singularly loud 'CHARLIE' that got him a glare, while the rest of the team stifled their laughter.
The captain was now twirling his wand threateningly, "Anyone else wants to take the little time I've got to gracefully end my Hogwarts Quidditch career? No? Alright."
The humor was quick to fade away as bashful sincerity took over Charlie's expression. He cleared his throat, "I couldn't have asked for a better team to end this part of my life with and I want you to know that having the honor of being your captain meant the world to me.
"So, thank you for this season. Thank you for the time and effort that each of you put into practice. I know it could get rough…" He got some snorts of laughter, but Oliver was shuddering at the four a.m. practices they'd had to endure—if he was captain he'd never do that, "but you all powered through and the commitment that you've given to this sport has shone through in our gameplay. We stand here undefeated for the season of 1990-91, with no other team able to reach our scores, reach our passion, and reach our love for each other."
And then Charlie might have been sniffling, his eyes shiny in the moment that passed. He gently wiped away his tears, shook his head, and smiled softly, "So, let's bring it home!"
"YEA!" Oliver yelled unexpectedly.
"Okay," that was a sniffle, "everyone hands in. On three."
"SAY IT LOUD, SAY IT PROUD. ONE TWO THREE-"
"GRYFFINDOR!" The team roared, and Oliver's cheeks were hurting from grinning so widely.
Oliver couldn't wait to hold that damn Quidditch Cup.