Harry Potter One-Shots

Quidditch Hurts, But Love Doesn't (Oliver Wood)

WORD COUNT: 1289

(A/N: for the sake of the plot if you're a Gryffindor... pick your second fav house just for now, I know I'm sorry!  But I think you'll enjoy the story anyways teehee)

As I made my way down to the Great Hall for breakfast with my Y/H/N Quidditch robes swishing around my ankles. It was the day I had been dreading for a while; today, Y/H/N was playing Gryffindor in Quidditch. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be an issue, and we would crush them like any other team. Today, however, was an exception, and that exception went by the name of Oliver Wood. In all the time Oliver and I had been dating, we had never played in a match against one another. We started dating early fourth year, the year my team did so poorly we didn't even get the chance to stay in the tournament long enough to face off against Gryffindor. Then, in fifth year, I broke my broom during the second match of the year and was out for the last two, one of which was against Gryffindor. Now, for the first match of sixth year, arguably the most important year for professional Quidditch hopefuls, I was to face off against my Quidditch crazy boyfriend for the first time in two years. The only problem was, I was just as Quidditch crazy as Oliver.

"Y/N! Ready for today's match?" called Crystal, one of my fellow Chasers. I smiled confidently and tossed my long ponytail over my shoulder.

"Never been ready...er," I finished lamely, and we collapsed into a fit of giggles. Crystal and I had been the best of friends since the first Quidditch tryout at the end of third year, when we both made the team, and since we were the only girls on the team that first year, we were forced to become quite close.

"Are you nervous to play Oliver?" she asked, throwing herself down at the table next to me and grabbing a piece of buttered toast. My stomach gave a nervous flip when she mentioned it.

"Not really," I lied. Crystal narrowed her eyes at me. I could never lie to her.

"Not really?"

"Ok, I'm terrified. I don't want to lose, obviously, but I don't want Oli to lose either. The scouts from the League are coming today I heard," I lowered my voice, afraid the other players would hear us. Crystal's face drained of all color right before my eyes. This was exactly why I hadn't wanted the rest of the team to hear.

--

The rest of the morning passed in a nervous blur. I intentionally sat with my back to the Gryffindor table so I wouldn't have to see Oliver. We had both agreed that it was probably best that we didn't talk on the morning of the match, because we both knew how competitive we would be.

As I made my way down to the locker room with Crystal and the rest of the Y/H/N team, I couldn't help but think, selfishly, about how badly I wanted to win. I had spent my whole childhood dreaming about playing Quidditch professionally, and it was finally my chance to show the scouts all I had.

The tension in the locker room was high; news had spread that the scouts were here, and the added pressure of knowing how worried I was about playing Oliver had made the team nervous. The captain said a few brief words of encouragement, then it was time to shoulder our brooms and head to the pitch.

Out on the grass, I kicked off into the air and began to get myself into the right headspace. I started with my usual rituals of assessing the conditions; it was basically the most perfect Quidditch day I could've hoped for. There was a slight breeze, enough to carry the Quaffle with a little more speed between a good trio of Chasers like myself, Crystal, and Samuel, the third Y/H/N Chaser. It was pleasantly warm, sunny but not blindingly bright. I deliberately didn't scan my eyes over the Gryffindor goal hoops as I surveyed the pitch.

I heard Madame Hooch's whistle and snapped back into reality. The Quaffle was up and I immediately dived for it, knocking it away from the Gryffindor Chaser and securing it tightly under my arm. I pulled up and did a tricky pass to Samuel, who passed it to Crystal, who pretended to drop it but, in reality, I was there to speed up and snatch the Quaffle right out of the outstretched arms of the Gryffindor Chaser. I sped toward the goalposts and lined up for my shot. In that moment, I didn't see Oliver, I simply saw an obstacle between me and the goals. I began calculating which hoop to aim for, I wound up... and I scored.

The game flew by in a blur. My team was in sync like we never had been before. We pulled off a few tricky maneuvers that we had only attempted in practice, and our points were racking up quickly.

Crystal tossed me the Quaffle and gave me a quick signal for one of our trickiest maneuvers; it involved a lot of quick-changing directions, faking passes, and getting really close to the Keeper to shoot a goal. As we began to fly, tossing the Quaffle back and forth like a hot potato, for the first time I felt a bit of nerves creep into my body. Don't let Oliver distract you, I berated myself. Just keep flying.

I tucked the Quaffle securely under my arm, rolled to dodge one of the Weasley twins swinging his club wildly about, and approached the goal posts. I felt like I had electricity pulsing through my veins. I pulled my arm back to shoot the Quaffle, and once I was within a matter of feet of Oliver, I released it.

The good thing about this maneuver is, when done correctly, we almost always scored. The bad thing is, when the Keeper is your extremely competitive boyfriend, you get a front row seat to watch him miss your goal and get increasingly upset. The world was moving in slow motion; Oliver dived to stop the Quaffle, I pulled my broom to a - WHAM!!!

Something heavy came careening into my shoulder and knocked me forward. My shoulder was screaming in pain, but I only had a second to think about that before my face collided with something bright red and very, very solid. Oliver and I tumbled through the air, our broomsticks left behind, falling rapidly toward the ground.

THUD.

I lay still for a few seconds, my whole body aching as much as my shoulder. I heard Oliver groan and shift himself to a sitting position. He stood up, brushed himself off, and then seemed to realize he wasn't alone. He stuck out his hand to help me get up, which I accepted, holding my hurt shoulder gingerly to avoid moving it too much.

"Alright?" he asked breathlessly, brushing a stray hair out of my eyes. I nodded, suddenly feeling all of the nerves I had suppressed all day.

"You know, Quidditch hurts, but love doesn't," he grinned, before leaning down to give me a brief peck on the lips. I could feel him smiling through the kiss, and I rolled my closed eyes. Too soon, he pulled away and hopped back onto his broomstick. He gave me a quick smile and a wink, which made my heart flutter in a different kind of way than before, and flew off to resume his post in front of the goals. Madam Hooch came rushing over with her wand out, ready to take a look at my shoulder and send me off to Madam Pomfrey, but I brushed her off. I could barely move my arm but for some reason, I was feeling reenergized.

--

A/N: spoiler alert, I wrote an ending for this but I didn't like the way it made the story feel so cheesy so I deleted it and decided to end it here, but Y/N's team ended up winning. Oliver was only a little bit mad, but the scouts basically said that both Oliver and Y/N were really talented and would be hearing from them again in the future so don't even worry ;)