sassy_cissa (sassy_cissa) wrote in slythindor100, @ 2006-04-07 10:49:00 |
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Original poster: physixxx
Title: ... stealing kisses ... (Collide, part deux)
Rating: PG
Word Count: a breezy 792
Challenge: None, really.
Warnings: Blatant disregard to canon
Summary: Oliver witnesses the aftermath of the Collide.
Characters: Oliver Wood, Harry Potter, Katie Bell, Miles Bletchley, Draco muthafuckin' Malfoy
Disclaimer: None of the characters used belong to us, the are property of one lovely J.K.Rowling. We only borrow and promise to put them back, once we're done.
A/N-1: This was just something cooked up because enchanted_jae wrote such a funny and wonderful response to Challenge #22 that I had to write a ‘sequel’ of sorts, not that the original story needed it, mind you. But you should really read Collide before reading this story.
A/N-2: I'm sure I haven't chosen the same schoolyear that enchanted_jae was thinking with regard to Collide. But, I just had to bring Wood into the mix. So, this is set during Harry's third year (the last year Wood and Flint were at Hogwarts).
Oliver hated the task, but he loved the feel and smell of a freshly polished broom, sleek and shiny between his fingers. Sitting on a bench in the locker room of the Gryffindor Balneum, he slid his rag-adourned hand along the length of his stick, paying particular attention to the tip. Rubbing the end of it – to make for a more aerodynamic gloss – he let out a slight moan, guttural and deep, as his hand slithered back down, twisting around the pole.
Yes, Oliver was obsessed with Quidditch, even more than he was obsessed with his own cock...
... or Flint’s.
Oliver’s only regret was that his fellow teammates, hard-working and talented though they were, didn’t share in his ‘obsession’.
Er, with Quidditch, not with Flint’s cock. No, that was his – and his alone.
Imagine Oliver’s surprise when he heard the familiar raspy, seductive voice bellowing from the pitch.
Piqued, Oliver set his broom to the side and walked out of the Gryffindor Balneum. He looked up to see Katie flying skillfully alongside Harry. He scowled slightly at them; they weren’t doing any of the drills he had devised for extra practice efforts.
Like a mad scientist eager to begin some dastardly experiment, Oliver dashed back into the locker room, grabbed his freshly polished broom, and made his way to join his teammates.
“Look out!”
“Watch it, Malfoy!”
Crash.
“Ow!”
Thud.
Oliver ran, broom in hand (just in case someone still wanted to fly), to Katie and Harry, who were tending to Draco Malfoy and Miles Bletchley.
“I… I think it’s broken!” Miles exclaimed through gritted teeth, a pained expression across his wide face. Miles was a handsome lad with a devilishly impish grin that made you forget he was a Slytherin git. He had promise, too, and that made Oliver respect him, at least.
“Oh, you poor dear,” cried Katie.
She reached out; he sucked in air through his teeth when her hands touched his arm.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Miles,” she said, quickly pulling back
Oliver watched as Katie sat down next to Miles, who managed to pull himself up (putting pressure on his supposedly ‘broken’ arm, mind you!) and rest his head on her lap.
“I... I wanted to play Quidditch professionally... now I’ll never be able to,” sniffed Miles, as Katie began running her fingers through his auburn hair, paying close attention to the ends as they curled under.
“Shh, shh, never you mind that,” she consoled, “we’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
“You... you promise...?”
“Oh, yes!”
He nuzzled deeper in her lap.
“I... I’m such a weakling... I should be ashamed...”
“Oh, no! You were quite brave! And... and I must say that was some flying...”
Oliver saw a smile stretch across Miles’ face.
“Oh, dear god, woman! Stop featherbedding him!! It couldn’t have hurt that much!”
Miles pouted. Katie clutched at his body, drawing him closer and giving Oliver a reprimanding glare.
“Oliver! You can be so cruel, sometimes!”
“Yeah, Oliver...” Pout. “... cruel ...” Nuzzle.
“Oh, I give up,” Oliver announced, walking over to where Harry sat with his back facing him and hunched over Draco.
“Ok, wot’s goin' on herrr-whau?!?!?!”
Oliver stopped dead in his tracks. Draco wasn’t even bothering to fake injury like Miles had, he didn’t need to. Harry was already kissing him, lost in the moment. Draco’s hands reached up to find locks of Harry’s thick, dark hair. Their lips pressed together lightly, but with passion. Their heads craned and tilted in tandem, as if trying to find an even better ‘fit’.
Harry would pull back just far enough to graze Draco’s lips with his tongue. Draco would pull himself up just far enough to recapture Harry’s tongue deep in his mouth. Their eyes remained open, their breathing quick and raspy. It seemed, to Oliver, they found in each other a desperate reprieve from whatever expectations the world had for them.
They looked beautiful together, Oliver thought.
Shaking his head (though admittedly with a smile), Oliver turned back to Katie and Miles. But they were gone, walking towards the Balneum, Katie’s arm draped over a limping Miles — who apparently couldn’t decide if his ‘hurt leg’ was the right one or the left one. If Katie took notice of this, she made no indication of it. Indeed, as she opened the door into the Gryffindor locker room, she turned to face Oliver, brandishing him an impious smile and wink before fading from view.
Oliver couldn’t believe it. Two Gryffindors. Two Slytherins. One plot to steal a kiss. Correction: One successful plot to steal kisses. Oliver shook his head as he headed up to the castle.
“I wonder,” he thought to himself, “what Marcus is doing right about now?”