salvation - f.weasley

It's a good day to beat Slytherins

d is for dangerous - arctic monkeys

• • •

Grace collapses onto the Quidditch pitch, struggling to catch her breath. Her chest heaves as she inhales the cool night air, her cheeks and nose red from the cold and the rush of adrenaline. Despite her exhaustion, a grin tugs at her lips—she thrives on the high of the training.

A hand appears above her, strong and steady, and she takes it, pulling herself up with effort.

"Come on, Colten, on your feet. You've still got to perfect that catch," Oliver's voice rings out, echoing across the empty pitch.

To everyone's surprise, Oliver Wood had agreed to help Grace train. With the Holyhead Harpies tryouts just two weeks away, Grace trains every night, often pushing herself until midnight or even later. She feels her body wearing down, the ache in her muscles a constant reminder of her limits, but she refuses to slow down. This is her one shot—nothing will come between her and her dream of becoming a Harpies' chaser.

She sighs, casting Oliver a pleading, puppy-eyed look. It's already past midnight, and her body feels weighed down with fatigue. "Can't we pick up again tomorrow? I'm exhausted."

Oliver shakes his head, but there's a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Those puppy eyes won't work on me, Colten," he says with a chuckle. "Now, back on your broom."

Grace groans in frustration but grabs her broomstick. "Well now I get why Gryffindors alway complain of their captain" she says teasingly before flying in the air, leaving Oliver yelling on the pitch. The two continue training for another half hour, until she finally collapses onto the benches of the stands, too tired to keep going.

Oliver laughs teasingly, as he hands her a water bottle. She accepts it gratefully, downing it. A comfortable silence settles between them, the only sounds being the faint rustling of the wind and her heavy breathing.

Grace and Oliver had always been rivals, but it was never a rivalry filled with bitterness—only respect and the drive to push each other further. Over the past year, they had grown closer, especially as Grace had gotten to know Fred better. She had discovered a side of Oliver she hadn't expected—someone deeply kind beneath his competitive exterior.

"I don't know how to thank you for all this, Wood," Grace finally says, breaking the silence, her voice genuinely grateful.

He shrugs with a smile. "It's nothing. I want to be able to beat you when Puddlemere United faces the Harpies."

She raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Dreaming big, aren't you, Wood?"

He chuckles softly. "You've got a real shot, Colten. You're going to crush those tryouts, I know it."

"Thanks," she replies, her tone sincere. "And congrats again on Puddlemere—no one deserves it more than you."

Just a few days ago, Oliver had found out that he'd made the team as Puddlemere United's keeper. Grace had been one of the first people he'd told.

Silence wraps around them again, but this time it's heavier. Grace can feel Oliver's eyes on her. "Hey, you alright, Colten?"

She turns her face towards him, hesitating for a moment. Was she alright? Hardly. The day that could change the course of her entire life—and her mother's—was approaching fast, the pressure sitting on her shoulders so heavy it felt like it could bury her.

And then there was everything else. She'd barely spoken to Achilles nor Fred since that night. After the party, she had spent nearly the entire night outside, trying to untangle her thoughts. Pacing beneath the stars, she struggled to make sense of everything. Of Fred's reaction, his means words. But at the same time, she remembers him looking hurt. Nothing made senses anymore for her.