A/N: This was written a few months previous when I was first meeting up with the Males in Sugar Quill Anonymous group. This was kind of my gift to them. It bought me a place in their hearts--at least in Tim's and Spin's. ;) So this is for them, luff you guys.
Harry could feel it. He was going to fall asleep again. And while he was walking, no less. Was that even possible? Perhaps with the proper spell... He'd have to ask Hermione about that one after the ma--
"Harry? Harry! Are you even listening to me?"
The young wizard started, as if he really had been woken up, and paused in his walking to look at Oliver Wood. Harry was half expecting his Quidditch captain to look angered, but he only seemed mildly frustrated.
"I get it--I should stop drilling you. I'm sorry, Harry, but, you know, this is--"
"--Your last chance to win Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup," Harry cut in, hoping he didn't sound too irked when he said it. He understood that Oliver really wanted to win, but he didn't think he could stand seeing the seventeen-year-old on the verge of tears again about it. It was just a little too scary. "We will. I promise, I'm prepared for anything this time. Lets just get into the locker room and get ready, all right?"
Thankfully, Oliver nodded firmly and set off in his usual quick stride without another word. Probably best he didn't try to talk again, Harry thought as he caught up with the Keeper. His voice might have cracked with emotion, and then I'd have to do my damnedest not to laugh at him. Not a good way to start off before a match.
When the two students pushed through the doors that led to the men's locker room, they were greeted by a rather strange sight: Fred and George Weasley, both of whom were already in their Quidditch gear, had their heads shoved into lockers.
"Eureka! We've struck the bloody gold this time!" Fred called out, his voice sounding a little tinny as out bounced off the metal of the locker.
"Oh happy day--our genius has served us well yet again," George agreed rather enthusiastically from inside his locker.
Harry was simply perplexed by the situation--Oliver looked more annoyed than anything else. "What are you two doing?" the Keeper barked. The Weasley twins both jumped, banging their heads inside the lockers and letting out echoing cries of pain as they pulled their heads out. "It looks like you've both taken one to many Bludgers to the head and have gone off the deep end."
Although Fred was rubbing his head in a rueful manner as he looked at Oliver and Harry, he was still overly cheerful to them both. "Hullo boys! Come off it, Oliver, you won't be on your high and mighty pedastal for long, once you see our latest--"
"--And greatest--" George interjected.
Harry just looked at the twins a little dubiously. "You made your greatest wizarding accomplishment inside your Quidditch lockers?"
"Harry, my boy, Gryffindor Quidditch Men will be singing our praises for years to come," George assured the seeker, clapping a hand on the younger wizard's shoulder. At the same time, Fred had led Oliver to one of the open lockers and instructed him to take a peek.
"Bloody hell!" Oliver yanked his head back out of the locker, gawking at Fred and George openly. The twins simply beamed at him.
Harry looked at Fred and George, now just a little bit frightened, before he crossed the locker room and hesitantly looked inside the locker George's head had previously occupied. He was surprised when he didn't hear his jaw make a hollow clank against the floor of the locker.
Instead of a metal back to the locker, there was--well, the girl's locker room. More specifically, there were the girls in the girl's locker room. Girls in various states of dress in the girl's locker room. It was nothing scandalous; sports bras and the white pants of their uniforms mostly, but it was still girls, not entirely dressed, in their locker room.
"We got the idea for it after reading about a Muggle contraption called a two way mirror," George explained, looking fiendishly proud of himself. "We can see them, but they can't see us. They just see their lockers."
Fred nodded in agreement. "We've tested it on a few other walls and such in the castle before putting it in here. Didn't want a mistake, have them watching us in our knickers, did we?"
Finally, Oliver seemed able to snap out of his gawking, for he shook his head in a very firm fashion. "No way. You've got to take this out. I won't have my players shamelessly ogling the girls--"
"Ogling the girls!?" Fred repeated, sounding scandelized at the very idea. "Oliver, that was the last intention we had when we put those charms in place. This isn't shameless ogling. This is us, proud Gryffindor men, being proud of our Gryffindor women. This is us having overly large amounts of appreciation for our female Chasers."
"Exactly," George agreed with a sage nod. "We know you have overly large amounts of appreciation for Katie in particular, so enjoy this."
Suddenly, Harry saw Oliver flush with embarrassment for the first time. "I do not!"
Fred grinned rather cheekily. "All right then, you want to shag her brains out, that good enough for you?"
"Harry." George came back over to the youngest Quidditch player, still looking as solemn as a preacher on Sunday. "As the youngest male member of this team, it will eventually be your duty to pass on the tradition of Chaser Appreciation--or, rather, appreciation of the female members of this Quidditch team, regardless of position. Will you agree to learn the charms needed to lift the metal cover and help Gryffindor Quidditch men appreciate their Quidditch woman?"
The young Seeker looked around the locker room a moment: George and Fred both were looking at him eagerly for agreement, and Oliver was trying to nonchalantly peek inside the locker for another look at Katie. Finally, Harry couldn't help but break out in an unusually impish grin. "Well, who am I to deprive generations of Gryffindor Quidditch Men of the ability to appreciate their Quidditch Women?"
Fred sniffed, dabbing at his eyes with a pantomime hankie. "I'm so proud. Someone to carry on our legacy properly," he said, his voice sounding watery and high pitched, suspiciously like his mother's. "Oh, they grow up so fast!" He then proceeded to pretend to sob into the imaginary cloth.
A grand new tradition of Gryffindor Quidditch was promptly born.