Oliver Wood (die__trying) wrote in snark_n_bark, @ 2008-10-03 22:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, oliver, ron |
Two Keepers
Characters: Ron and Oliver
Summary: Oliver notices something off about his former housemate
Oliver still wasn’t sure what had brought him to the national training pitch to watch the English team going through their paces. Picking up tips? He didn’t think so. He’d never been one to learn by watching, only by doing, by playing.
It hadn’t been a desire of his, ever, to gain a spot on the national team. He was perfectly happy with his life in Puddlemere as captain, with his team and his performance there. Or if not perfectly happy, then he was content. The more public side of his life, and that spotlight, were parts he could live without easily. There were so many other things in his life right now, so many other good and wonderful things, that any niggling thoughts of job dissatisfaction occupied only a small, and easily forgotten, part of his mind.
Even without knowing why he’d come here, he couldn’t keep himself from ducking into the changing rooms for a chance to talk to the former Gryffindor who’d replaced him on the house teams, to mixed success if what he’d heard held true. They’d won the cup the next two years running, but it’d been an unsure thing up to the last game.
And if Ron had played in those games as he had during the beginning of the training session he’d just watched, it was clear to Oliver as to why.
Apparently, Ron wasn’t happier with his own performance. When he caught sight of the redhead, he was sitting on a low bench, head in his hands and appeared to be muttering to himself.
“Bit off form there at the start,” he said by way of announcing his presence, “but you picked it up after the seventh goal in.”
Oliver frowned when Ron started as if he’d hexed the other man instead of spoken. The shock and (anger?) bled out of his face almost at once and Ron stood with a smile on his face and his hand outstretched.
“Oliver Wood? Blimey, but it’s been ages, hasn’t it?”
Somewhat more relaxed, Oliver returned the smile. “Since we met in that pub outside Melbourne, yes. Didn’t think I’d ever recover from that hangover.”
“That’s the Aussies for you. Not quite a party unless the whole lot ends up pissed into the next week.”
A silence stretched and Oliver couldn’t help but see past the smile to the look of the man before him – and he didn’t look good. There were circles under his blue eyes, a slack, almost sallow look to his skin even though he spent the majority of his time outdoors and, something that shocked him into a near gasp, twin red patches on both of his forearms.
“Ron...what?” Oliver said before he could stop himself from being uncharacteristically nosy.
Ron was clearly confused until he followed the line of Oliver’s sight and saw the weals there. He reached quickly into his locker and tugged out a jumper, pulling it over his head and pushing his arms through until the marks were hidden. “It’s nothing. Set of new gloves chafed during the last match.” Ron raised his eyes to his and Oliver saw a spark of...something...in them. Something that had the small hairs on the back of his neck standing up.
Something that had him wanting to just turn and walk out of this changing room. But he was a Gryffindor, and he wasn’t quite ready to leave.
“So, ah,” Oliver began uneasily, “you feeling good then? For the upcoming match against Albania?”
“Yeah, we—I’ll be ready for it. Everything’s under control now,” he replied almost blankly, resuming his seat on the bench and pulling on trainers.
“That’s good. Looks to be a shut-out if you play as brilliantly as you did the last half of practice.” Thoughts of practice brought thoughts of other things, other people now in his life and the next question burst from him before he knew why he’d asked it. “How’s Harry?”
Even though he thought he'd been shocked enough, Ron’s expression of utter confusion when he raised his head belied that. Ron looked as though he had no idea who Oliver was referring to.
Eyes wide, Oliver continued. “Harry Potter? Your best mate? On the shortish side, scruffy black hair? Glasses?” The astonishment in his voice rose when every question seemed to fall on a blank face. Then, finally, Ron’s face smoothed out and Oliver began to wonder if the younger man had taken a Bludger to the head at some point recently.
“Yeah, Harry’s great. No worries. In fact,” he made a show of checking his watch as he fastened it to his wrist, “I’d best be on my way as he’s got Leila today and probably spoiling her supper again with ice cream.”
The smile was so real, so genuine, that it allayed some of the uneasy feelings he’d had off and on since walking into this changing room.
“Right then,” Oliver nodded and turned to leave. “I won’t keep you but, ah, tell Harry I said hello, yeah?”
Ron answered in the affirmative and Oliver headed for the door. But he swore he heard muttering in the background as he walked from the room.