Biscuits And Broomsticks {Oliver Wood}

Tryouts

It was a cool, clear day at Hogwarts, and the conditions were perfect for Quidditch. Oliver wood surveyed the pitch contentedly before heading to the stands. It was almost a shame he wasn't here to play, Gryffindor tryouts had been yesterday. They had gone well enough, and he was hopeful, enough so that he decided to check out the potential competition. 

Unbeknownst to the young Gryffindor, a girl from Hufflepuff was stealing glances at him from the pitch. She was a second year by the name of Freya Birtwhistle, and was fairly certain she was about to make a fool of herself. All for the sake of the boy who was obsessed with Quidditch. 

She eyed the pile of brooms on the ground nervously, thinking she might still have time to leave before tryouts started. One more look at Oliver changed her mind though, she was going to get him to notice her one way or the other. 

Being a muggle-born witch whose parents who weren't terribly interested in sports, magic or not, she didn't have much in the way of topics to discuss with Oliver. The most she had managed were shy smiles, and occasional waves that he always seemed to miss. 

She shook off the last of her doubts, and when the Hufflepuff captain blew the whistle she chose a broom without hesitation. Of course, things always seemed to go better in theory than actuality.

The moment Freya kicked off from the ground she knew she was in trouble. While most of the others soared into the air, she barely rose a few inches as if the broom didn't trust her to fly correctly.

"Come on then." She grumbled, and urged the broom higher.

It obeyed, somewhat reluctantly, and Freya eventually joined the others in the air. There was another problem though, her balance. She couldn't seem to keep the stupid thing steady, and kept tottering from side to side. The higher she rose, the more she swayed and dipped, taking her stomach for a rather unpleasant ride. Her nerves were beginning to get the best of her, and it became difficult to grip the broom with her sweaty palms.

In the stands below, Oliver was oblivious to Freya's struggle. He was too preoccupied with the other students who were flying around the pitch, tossing the quaffle back and forth. It wasn't until the bludgers were let loose he began to notice the young blonde. Or rather he noticed the fact that she was nearly knocked off her broom by them not once, but three times. 

Oliver squinted, thinking that she looked vaguely familiar. She was definitely in the same year as him, and since she was a Hufflepuff they most likely had Herbology together. The longer he looked at the girl the more he realized that she was terrified, and couldn't help but wonder why exactly she was trying out for a sport that she clearly had no experience with.

Up in the air, Freya was thinking along the same lines. Her whole body was trembling, and her heart all but leapt from her chest as she narrowly avoided another bludger. She let out a sigh of relief and glanced quickly to the stands, which turned out to be a big mistake. As her eyes locked with that of the young Gryffindor, she was momentarily distracted and didn't see the quaffle that was headed her direction. She did see however, the ground fast approaching as she was propelled from her broom by the force of the quaffle. 

Oliver grimaced as the girl hit the ground hard. Fortunately, she hadn't been too high off the ground, but surely the fall would prevent her from continuing any further with tryouts. 

To his disbelief, she got to her feet with the help of the team captain and retrieved her broom. The next twenty minutes became increasingly difficult to watch as the girl seemed to have an uncanny ability for getting caught in the crossfire. She fell several more times, and yet kept trying. The look on her face was that of pure determination, and Oliver had to admit he held a new-found respect for the Hufflepuff. 

It wasn't until the captain called for everyone to pack up that he realized he'd been watching the girl almost the entire time. Her persistence had captured his attention, and he was curious as to why she refused to give up.

When tryouts had finally ended, Freya nearly wept with relief. She threw her broom back onto the pile, and made her way off of the pitch as quickly as her bruised body would allow. Despite her humiliation, she wasn't a quitter and saw the whole thing through to the bitter end. It had been the most painful hour of her life, but at least her pride was still somewhat intact. She had done what she came to do, never mind the fact that Oliver probably thought she was mad for trying.

She was passing by the stands with her head down when she heard a voice call out.

"That was a good effort out there."

The accent was unmistakable. Freya turned around slowly, and inhaled sharply at the sight of the Gryffindor. 

For a second, she wondered if he were teasing her, but the warm smile on his face convinced her he was sincere.

"Thanks." she mumbled, "Don't think I'll be doing it again though."

He chuckled, "Still, not many would have stuck it out like you did. With that kind of attitude I bet you'll be great at loads of things...just maybe not Quidditch."

She laughed, and quickly winced at the pain in her side. 

"Do you want me to show you to the hospital wing?" He asked, moving closer to her.

She nodded, her face turning a bright shade of pink.

"I'm Oliver Wood, by the way." he said as they made their way back to the castle.

"Freya Birtwhistle." she replied quietly.

"Nice to meet you Freya." He smiled again, "So you do know you're supposed to avoid the bludgers right?"

She noticed the teasing glint in his brown eyes, and smiled. Perhaps her effort hadn't been for naught after all.

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Merlin's beard, 1000 reads! Thank you all so much for your support! I hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane with Freya and Oliver. I love writing content with these two, and will definitely do more in the future.