Warmth: 1/7 for 7spells
Title: Warmth
Author: sugareey
Rating: PG
Characters: Cedric/Oliver
Prompt: Cold hands, cold feet
Word Count: 1,955
Summary: Oliver tries not to sulk too much when Gryffindor loses the match, but it surprises him when he finds comfort from the winner himself.
Warnings: Consistent with PoA.
Disclaimer: Kudos go to the amazing J.K Rowling for creating the awesome game of Quidditch and the players that go along with it.
A/N: For 7spells. Unbetaed, I know. But it's about time I began this table which is located here.



He plays best when it rains. It makes no sense, with the heavy drops of water weighing his robes down, and the strong wind threatening to blow him away. It’s deafening as he whips through the air, looping around goal posts, waiting for the Quaffle to come to him. It’s hard to really see anything at all, especially when he has to squint. He gave up wiping the droplets away from his face a long time ago, as it was such a nuisance. But he’s a pro at this, so he decides to keep on playing to keep on winning. Suck it up, catch the Quaffle, and repeat. This is a dangerous yet exciting game. Oliver Wood definitely knows how to play it because this is what he lives for. Quidditch is his life.

But he isn’t so sure this time. Gryffindor has won various games ever since Harry Potter became the youngest Seeker in the century, and really, they are bound to win the Quidditch Cup any day now. It’s a guarantee. Or so he thought. Oliver knows it’s natural for teams to have different players year after year, with graduates vacating their positions to be offered to new students. That is how things go. But after hearing about Hufflepuff’s newest Seeker, the determination to win grew. It grew so big, it’s now like a weight on Oliver’s back, a burden he can’t let go of, even though it is slowing him down. He’s getting tired more quickly, catch after catch, Bludger after Bludger. Oliver secretly wants this game to end for once. But he still has his game face on, to set an example to his fellow teammates. He’s a captain of a wonderful team and the worse he can do is let them down by giving up. And Oliver never gave up. Ever.

There had been something about Cedric Diggory that had caught Oliver’s eye when he first saw him. When they met at the center of the pitch to begin this game, he noticed Cedric was around his height, perhaps slightly taller. He was definitely a ladies’ man, since all the girls within the stands were cheering, yelling, even screaming for him. He wasn’t too bad looking, so that explained it. Not that Oliver had really stared at him. Oliver had only heard about the bloke through the grapevine, or else he would see him from the distance, walking throughout the corridors within the late nights since Cedric was a prefect. But that was all Oliver knew about him…until this game. So to see Cedric’s usual light brown hair appear dark and matted to his face, and his yellow Quidditch robes sticking to his skin, it was quite a surprise. The bloke was definitely a hot shot to be the next best Seeker, that was for sure.

To shake his hand was something different though. As a friendly captain’s handshake, Oliver couldn’t help but gasp softly when he felt their cold hands slide together. Cedric’s skin had been smooth against his palm and Oliver wasn’t sure if he could let go once they grasped each other’s hands into a firm shake. It was the rain that forced him apart, as well as the game, because Oliver had quickly let go before mounting his broom. He didn’t have time to dwell on such little details. There was a game to win.

But said details are slowly coming back to him now, as he watches his teammates chase a Hufflepuff with the Quaffle. Oliver sneaks a peek at Cedric, who apparently is nowhere in sight. And when he looks for Harry, he can’t find him either. What the—

“And it looks like the Seeker’s have gone after the Snitch, deep into those storm clouds!” commentates Lee Jordan, looking up into the sky to see if he can make out any figures. “We’ll have to see what the outcome is when they come back down.”

There’s a strike of lightening as the rain pours down hard, making it so difficult for Oliver to keep holding on. His hands keep slipping when he grabs his broomstick tightly, and his legs hurt from hitching his legs around it when he does feel himself sliding off. He’s waiting for Harry to come back and for this bloody game to be over because that would mean Gryffindor wins and then they can proceed to the next game to—

“And that’s Harry Potter…and he seems to be dropping from the sky!”

The crowd gasps as Dumbledore conjures a stretcher for the poor boy, as Oliver practically has a heart attack. His Seeker is knocked out and he doesn’t even know where that damn Snitch has gone to. It’s loud with buzzing murmurs, as everyone discusses what just happened. And then out of the sky comes Cedric Diggory, and it all happens so fast. Oliver sees Cedric’s fist, a glint of gold, and then people begin cheering and he can hear Lee stating Hufflepuff has won this match and then—

After so many attempts to hang on to his broom, this time isn’t so lucky when Oliver accidentally lets go. He had meant to lower his broom to see what happened to Harry, to get a better look, but hearing the breaking news startles him. He isn’t that far from the ground, but really, he isn’t thinking much when lands on his knee the wrong way. But that doesn’t stop him. Oliver is thinking fast, thinking of everything. He can see his teammates and some students surrounding Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the whole lot, while the rest are congratulating the Hufflepuff team and Cedric for their efforts. So Oliver just sits on the wet grass, with his knee throbbing and his teeth chattering.

He can’t feel his cold feet, despite having some special trainers on, or his cold hands, which definitely deserve a warming spell upon them. But Oliver doesn’t complain. He’s mute, even when a sharp pain travels up his leg when he tries to stand. He has to sit back down because he might have sprained something, but that doesn’t faze him either. He lost and that’s what matters.

Loser, loser, loser.

“Shite,” Oliver curses under his breath, wincing as he stands up again. He really shouldn’t be putting any weight on his right leg, not in this condition. And the rain isn’t doing much good to it either, not when the cuts and scrapes on his knee are stinging.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Oliver seethes, gritting his teeth as he shifts his weight onto his left leg, looking at the ground. “Just a sprain. It’s nothing.”

“Looks pretty bad. Let me take a look.”

Before Oliver can say anything, a familiar hand is on his thigh, traveling slowly to an area just above his knee. He can barely feel the touch but it’s there, and Oliver wants to close his eyes. It’s not bad. It makes Oliver forget the pain for a minute before he looks down at Cedric, who apparently escaped his mob of fans to see how Oliver was doing.

“What do you want?” demands Oliver angrily, running a hand over his face. “You’ve already won and—”

“You didn’t hear me arguing with Hooch then?” Cedric questions him with a frown, holding out the Snitch in front of him like a peace offering. “I asked for a rematch but by the book, she said it’s not necessary. So I guess I’ll have to take the win.”

“Get that bloody thing away from me!” yells Oliver, trying to shoo Cedric’s hand away. “It’s yours…you won, now just let it go!”

“They say it was the Dementors that attacked Harry. I didn’t know…I didn’t see him fall and then when I got the Snitch, I tried to see what was going on—”

“Whatever. I don’t have time for your excuses—”

“Look, Oliver. I tried to get here as soon as I could when I saw you fall but with all the people coming in on me…”

Oliver can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed as his cheeks begin to redden, despite the rain feeling like shards of ice on his face. So Cedric saw him fall. Oliver is supposed to be one of the best Quidditch players at Hogwarts and yet…he was so stupid to make such a mistake. He wasn’t supposed to lose control, not like this. Oliver turns away from Cedric, whose hand is still on his leg.

“Let go,” Oliver growls out in a low voice. “I don’t need your sympathy. Things like this happen.”

“They do,” agrees Cedric with a hint of regret in his voice, removing his hand from Oliver and running it through his wet hair. He is still holding out his other one, the hand still grasping the Snitch. “Take it.”

“No.”

“C’mon! Just take it! It’s not like I deserved it, anyway. It was just dumb luck because Harry and I were pretty close—”

“It’s yours, so keep it,” insists Oliver impatiently, using a hand to push Cedric’s hand away again. He does it with such force that he sways and stumbles forward, forcing him to lean on his injured leg. He winces and has to put a hand on Cedric’s shoulder for support.

“Just take it, Oliver, ‘kay?”

Cedric has Oliver by the arms now, his fingers digging into his armpits. He quickly puts Oliver’s arm around his shoulder, letting himself be a crutch. Oliver doesn’t think about this and he tests his right leg out, urging Cedric to walk with him. It’s practically killing him now, with his joints grinding together and his knee extracting some fresh blood from his various scratches there. He bites his lip as he leans onto Cedric. How the hell is he supposed to make a trip to the infirmary like this?

“You’re going to be alright. It’ll be fine…”

Oliver just nods as he tries hobbling along to where everyone else is grouped together, along with a few staff members. His left leg is getting tired from supporting his own body weight and it feels like it’s on fire. It’s supposed to be cold and yet—

“Wood! What happened?” exclaims Madam Pomfrey, who immeditaly scurries toward Oliver and Cedric. “Your knee, boy! What is this?”

“I know,” Oliver mumbles, taking a deep breath. The hobbling is exhausting and he just wants his knee to be healed. “I fell.”

“First Potter, and then you? I told Dumbledore this match should have been cancelled! It’s dangerous to be playing in conditions like these! The whole infirmary will be filled by this evening if we don’t get you someplace warm!”

And soon Oliver finds himself being lifted onto a conjured stretcher of his own, with his knee wrapped in a towel of some sort to soak up the blood until they got into the castle. Cedric walks alongside Madam Pomfrey, telling her what happened. Oliver doesn’t care. When they’re in the castle, all sopping wet, Cedric subtly takes out his wand, immobilising the skittering Snitch in his fist with a quiet spell so it goes still. Oliver can see this from the corner of his eye, and he glances at Cedric, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later, Oliver.”

With that, Cedric grins and hands the Snitch to him before taking a detour to walk back to his dorms. Oliver lies back and closes his eyes, waiting to get into the Infirmary to so he can rest in a damn bed. He can feel the small, golden ball in his own fist now, and he can’t help but smile. He doesn’t remember anything else after that as he eventually drifts off to sleep.