A/N: At one point, a while ago, there was a challenge thread that found its way onto the Quill. This was my personal contribution to the insanity, therefore several phrases (roughly half a dozen) belong to the likes of those who contributed to the thread. You know who you are. Thanks for the Plot Bunny. Also, this is the second in what I consider my Quidditch Team Tales. If you want to read the first, please look to Chaser Appreciation.
"...That was the most I ever ate, and it made me who I am today," George concluded with a firm nod, hefting his broom over one shoulder as he walked with his brother and Harry towards the Quidditch locker rooms.
The sun was just barely shedding light on Hogwarts, due to Oliver's insistence on early morning practices. While Harry was stumbling along still half asleep, Fred and George Weasley seemed perfectly awake--even more so, actually. They had gone to brewing their own version of a Pepper-Up Potion, with somewhat varied results. It had all ready worn off of George, but Fred was still skipping on ahead, shouting out in a falsetto "Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"
"I still can't figure out where he read that Shake-And-Bake fellow, you know," George commented as he watched his brother.
Harry stumbled, tripping over his own broom. "Huh? Oh--that's Shakespeare," he mumbled, pushing up his glasses to rub at his eyes a moment.
George just shrugged. "Whatever." Up ahead, Fred collapsed against the door to the male Gryffindor locker room, panting slightly. "Ah, looks like he's more himself again."
When the trio pushed their way into the locker room, they found Oliver was all ready inside, fully dressed and ready to go, which was really no surprise. However, he was lying on his back on one of the benches, staring at the ceiling.
"Do you think he's sick?" Harry inquired in a hushed tone after they all stared at Oliver for a moment. After all, he hadn't started yelling at them to hurry up and get out on the field yet. In fact, Harry didn't think he'd seen Oliver move once since they all got into the locker room.
Fred made his way over to his locker, a bit of a skip still punctuating his step. "Dunno. Oy, Oliver! It's 6:02 and we're not on the field yet!"
"Hmm..." George arched a brow, a pensive expression coming to his face. "Excuse me," he said, walking closer to their captain. "Slytherins just jumped Harry, his broom's absolutely shattered. He'll have to ride a Cleansweep."
Nothing, unless one counted the protective way in which Harry clutched his broom.
"I haven't seen his this non responsive since the last time you two cajoled him into watching Katie Bell change into her Quidditch uniform," Harry noted. He gave George the tiniest bit of a glare, before very carefully setting down his Firebolt on a bench in order to get into his locker.
"Hey! Now that's not nice. We cajoled him into nothing, he was simply appreciating his Chaser," Fred replied indignantly. He stuck his nose up in the air in an exaggerated fashion before spinning the combination on his locker and opening the door. He stuck his head in briefly, then pulled it out again with a sigh. "They've all changed already."
Harry just rolled his eyes, putting his glasses aside and peeling off his shirt to change into his Quidditch sweater. "There has to be something that'll snap him out of that."
"Well, I guess this means no practice--I'm going back to bed!" George called out loudly, only to still get nothing from Oliver. Finally he let out a disgruntled sigh and threw his balled up shirt at Oliver. "Bugger all this, I'm off to snog Malfoy."
There was a gagging sound from Harry's general area, but Oliver still didn't blink.
"Oh, I can see how easy this'll be," Fred said sarcastically, pulling up his uniform's pants. "It'll be like milking a kangaroo, this."
There were a few moments in which the three stayed silent and finished pulling on their Quidditch uniforms. Then they were back to square one. Surprisingly, it was Harry that got a reaction out of Oliver: by smacking the Keeper with the tail end of his broom.
"Gah!" Oliver jerked up on the bench, sputtering with a mouthful of twigs while the twins were busy cracking up on the sight.
George sniggered. "Don't eat that, Oliver, you don't need that kind of fiber in your diet."
"Bloody Hell!" Oliver fumed, spitting out the last of the broom twigs from his mouth. "Harry! I expected more of you! Now leave me alone, all of you!"
"What, you expect us to just let you wallow?" Fred countered. He shook his head, straddling the bench and sitting to face his captain. "Really, Wood, you know better than all that. Now what are you on about that's got you letting George go smooch up on Malfoy?"
Oliver blinked, looking at all of them blankly. "What?"
From behind Oliver, George snapped his fingers. "I know! It has to do with Katie, doesn't it? You saw her holding hands with that Hufflepuff boy, didn't you? That's it, isn't it? Ahhh, it is!"
Harry had now officially only seen Oliver Wood blush twice in his lifetime. "So what if it is, all right?"
There was a smug look on Fred's face. "Let's get out on the field, we can fix this quite quickly."
"...So, I told him 'What are you doing? There are floaties in your potion!' and as soon as he turned to look, the entire cauldron exploded on him." Angelina shook her head, doing her best not to laugh. "Snape was so furious he actually took points from his own house."
Amid the Chasers' laughter on the stands of the Quidditch field, the remaining members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team flew onto the pitch, Fred and George practically dragging Oliver along while Harry flew down to take a seat next to the girls. "Hullo, erm, girls," he said, pushing up his glasses in a slightly nervous manner. The three girls looked at him as they always did--like he was the most adorable puppy dog on the face of the planet. It only sufficed in making him a little more squirmy around them. Therefore, he spilled out the situation in a rush that sounded possibly like one long word rather than a series of sentences. Angelina and Alicia began to laugh, while Katie turned a soft shade of pink and smiled.
"Could I borrow your broom for a moment, Harry?" Katie inquired. When he nodded, she grasped his broom and took off. Moments later she was hovering up in the air facing Oliver, and Fred and George slid down to the stands in order to watch. None of them could hear what was said, but the swift kiss on the lips the two shared was more than enough to get the rest of the team cheering and cat calling at them.
"So, Fred," Harry said once the team had gotten onto the field to practice. "If she and Oliver are, well, how they are, why was Katie holding some Hufflepuff boy's hand?"
"Because women are creatures we men cannot and should not try to understand, Harry," Fred replied, twirling his Beater's club in his hand. "But their tactics work. She wanted to get Oliver's attention, and she got it, didn't she?"
Harry just shook his head. "I don't intend on letting a girl get to me like that." He almost started higher up in the air, to get a better look for the Snitch that Oliver had just released, but then he paused. "Oh, by the way, who's the next match against?"