Harry Potter One-Shots // (X Reader)

Opposing Sides (Oliver Wood)

Quiditch was in your blood.

Everyone in your family had played for the Slytherin Quiditch team. From your great great grandmother to yourself today, being apart of the team for your family was tradition. A tradition that hasn't broken since you became Slytherin's star Keeper.

So far, your fifth year streak had proved affective as all of your games had been blank to zero. Not a single goal had passed you, and you intended to keep it that way.

Though, you were a little worried that your streak would be ruined as sixth year approached. Quiditch season started in two months, and Slytherin was antsy for the match, seeing as Gryffindor had won the past two years. Things were starting to get stressful for your team as Marcus Flint kept calling extra practices and such.

Your Keeper job was still superb, but you'd be lying if you'd said your anxiety wasn't peeking for this game, not only for the strategies, but because of who you were going up against.

Oliver Wood, the best Keeper (aside from you) in Hogwarts. He never misses. The stress of going against your rivals and Wood in the same game were beginning to weigh in your shoulders.

"Oi! Christian! You just let a quaffle fly past you!"

You snap out of your daze, realizing you were floating immobile in the middle of the goals. Malfoy, Flint, and Nott were looking at you with incredulous looks.

You mutter an apology, blushing as you realized your miss was because you were zoned out.

"What's got you in your head Christian?" Nott asks, flying closer to the hoops.

"Just got a lot on my mind, that's all," you say.

"Well you better focus in because we can't have you coming out in a bloody match," Malfoy scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he lifts his goggles.

"I won't," you snap at him, raising your eyebrows.

Draco Malfoy had had a crush on you since your first year. Everyone knew it, and when you rejected him he eventually started treating you like everyone else. You hated to break it to him, but your type wasn't exactly "bleach blonde daddy's boy."

Suddenly, you hear voices laughing through the pitch, and you groan a little inside as the Gryffindor team marches onto the pitch, brooms in hands. Marcus spots this and flies closer to the ground, a devilish sneer on his face.

"And what do you think you're doing here lions?" he jests, causing the rest of the team to laugh, including yourself. If there was one thing the Gryffindors hated, it was being called lions.

You pause and take in a sharp breath as Wood, Gryffindor's captain, stepped in front and smiled mischievously at Flint.

"We have an order from Professor McGonagal, allowing us to use the fields," he says in his thick Scottish accent.

Anger stirs inside you and and you fly closer, feeling Draco's eyes on you as you do so.

"And what makes you think you can kick us off Wood?" you spit his name, pulling up next to him and smirking as you mount off your broom.

"As a matter of fact lass," he says stepping closer to you, "I think so because I can't see any of you going to question McGonagal. "

"Don't call her lass!" Draco hisses behind you, causing you to roll your eyes. Even after you explained your feelings, Draco would still get jealous.

"As a matter of fact," you said in a fake Irish accent, causing George Weasley to come at you before being pulled away by Potter, "We were here first, by order of Professor Snape."