teenage girl (various! Harry Potter x fem!reader)

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆ chapter fourteen ☆ ≈ *¨¨*:·.

next day, you'd decided you were done waiting. this sunday would be the day you confronted dumbledore!

... but first a potions assignment. you felt like jumping off the astronomy tower, you had been here little more than a week, and that snape guy had the audacity to already assign an essay on a girding potion, which sucked.

you had been working inside for a while already, but you were growing tired of the toasty environment in the gryffindor common room. you decided, that while it was still sort of warm outside, that you'd go out to work on it. you stood up, hermoine looked at you confusedly.

"y/n? you're stopping already? you've barely been working half an hour?" she asked , accusingly.

you mentally groaned. half an hour? felt more like 5 hours. you really wanted some air. "no, i'm gonna continue outside. want to join?"

"merlin no, i'm far too busy to go frolicking outside." hermoine hummed, once again making unnecessary homework.

"i'm not gonna- alright whatever. i'll see you later 'moine!" you collected your book, parchment and writing necessities, before walking through hogwarts, before going outside. it was kind of cold, but there wasn't much wind so it was alright.

you looked around the fields, wondering where to sit. you hummed when you noticed the quidditch training pitch. 'isn't any training today... i think it was yesterday. those small tribunes are perfect.'

you walked to the training pitch. it was like a mini version of the actual quidditch field, and the tribunes were lower. you sat down on a high bench, opening your book and taking some notes for elements of the essay. you started writing it, when you heard a faint sound on the field.

you looked up, and saw a boy open up a suitcase. he was holding a broom, and he hadn't noticed you yet. he looked to be older, maybe a sixth or seventh year? you looked interested, as he took what seemed to be a quaffle out of the suitcase. a quidditch player, huh? you saw him cast a small charm on it, and the quaffle flew up by itself. the boy flew up on his broom, flying in front of the three quidditch hoops. the ball continuously launched itself at the hoops, and the boy blocked them. you let out a small whistle, that was a handy spell.

watching the -pretty attractive- guy train was of course far more interesting than your assignment, which was quickly discarded onto the bench next to you. when he stopped a particular fast move of the quaffle, you clapped.

the boy, jumpscared by your presence, looked at the tribunes, causing the quaffle to hit him. he groaned, grabbing it and flying down.

"oh shit-" you whispered, standing up and quickly making your way down to the field.
"hey, you alright?" you called out, feeling partly responsible.

"yeah- i'm alright. gave me a scare though." the boy smiled, speaking with a thick cottish accent. "you were up there how long?"

you chuckled. "before you were. you're really good, are you on a quidditch team?"

"yep. oliver wood, gryffindor quidditch captain and keeper." he stuck out his hand, for you to shake. you shook it, and remembered his name. "ohh yeah, harry told me about you."

oliver smiled. "all good things, i hope?"

you hummed. you remembered how harry was complaining yesterday about having his 'horribly early quidditch practice with an absolute fanatic maniac'. his words, not yours. "yeah, all good. i'm y/n l/n, pleasure."

"oh yeah, you're the transferred girl from the french school." he noted, scanning you.

you were surprised. "wow, everyone sure does remember. but yeah, i am. it's a real big difference."