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Title: Snow Day
 "You can't be serious," Angelina Johnson said incredulously. Oliver Wood bore her hard stare as best he could. "All I'm saying is that we shouldn't let a little bit of snow stop our-" "A little bit of snow!" It was now Katie Bell's turn to interject angrily. "Oliver, have you even looked out of the window?" As a friendly gesture, Oliver did indeed look out of the closest window in the Gryffindor common room. A heavy snowfall coated the Hogwarts grounds, crystallising the landscape and staining it a brilliantly pure white. The first snowfall had come early this year. It had began to fall late last night and had not let up since; flakes were still falling steadily, dancing through the grey sky on small gusts of wind. Tearing himself away from the beautiful scene outside, Oliver turned back to his team mates. "I'll admit it's not the ideal conditions for practise, but even so?" Oliver was stopped in his tracks by two cushions hitting him in the chest with considerable force. Recovering from the blow, Oliver found himself face to face with two very angry girls. "No way!" Angelina yelled. "We are not practising in that weather! It's snowing so hard we won't be able to see any of the balls!" "Besides, after five minutes we'll have frozen to death," Katie added sharply. "It's no use complaining," Oliver told them. "What if we have to face Slytherin whilst it's snowing? They won't call off the match that's for sure. You need to practise playing in all..." A tap on his shoulder made Oliver forget what he was about to say. Thinking that he was fated never to finish what he was saying, Oliver turned around angrily. "What?" Looking up at him was Hermione Granger, that clever friend of Potter's. Oliver immediately felt guilty, he hadn't meant to shout at a third year. But if Hermione felt intimidated by his tone of voice, she didn't show it but looked at Oliver with steely determination. "I've come to tell you that Harry won't be coming to practise today. That is, if you are having a practise, which I think would be a very foolish thing to do," she said in a very matter-of-fact manner. "Why isn't he coming to practise?" Oliver asked, sounded more annoyed than he'd intended. "He's got a cold and-" Hermione paused and directed the end of her sentence up the staircase to the boys dormitory. "He's going to see Madame Pomfrey whether he likes it or not!" Oliver raised his eyebrows; he certainly didn't envy Harry at that moment. "So as you can see, he's in no condition to fly around in the snow," Hermione continued. "How did he manage to get sick?" Oliver asked, sounding as if Harry had done it on purpose because it was a particularly crucial point in the season. "Half the school is ill with something, in case you hadn't noticed," Katie told him, over his shoulder. "McGonagall cancelled out lesson yesterday because only six people turned up, and two of them should have been in the hospital wing." "All right," he said. "Tell Harry he's excused and that I don't want to see him at practise until he's fully recovered." Much as Oliver resented the reduction of Quidditch to merely "flying around", he had to concede that Hermione had a point. Hermione nodded and walked back towards the boys' dormitory. Sighing, Oliver turned back to Katie and Angelina, who were both wearing triumphant looks. "Well, it's no use practising without our seeker," Katie said, smiling. "I'll go and tell the rest of the team that practise is cancelled," Angelina told him. Before he could protest, Angelina ran off towards the Weasley brothers to tell them the good news. Oliver kicked the ground in frustration. Not only was he irritated by the lack of enthusiasm shown by his team mates, Oliver had been looking forward to the practise, despite the snow. Flying around in the crisp winter air felt wonderful. He supposed that he could go out on his own, although flying was always more enjoyable with someone else. And Oliver knew exactly who would want to join him. After a short search, he found Cedric Diggory in the library alone, pouring over a large and musty looking textbook. The two boys were unlikely friends, in different years and different houses. But over the summer, Oliver's parents had decided to visit some old friends, two of which turned out to be Cedric's parents. The two boys had spent three days flying around the Devonshire countryside, where the Diggory's lived, and Oliver had been surprised at how much he liked the quiet, serious Cedric. Since coming back to Hogwarts, they had only managed to exchange a few words in passing, but Oliver was surprised how often he found himself scanning the Hufflepuff table at mealtimes, and hoe often, when he found Cedric, the other boy was looking at him too. Oliver stood by the table at which Cedric was working, unsure of the most polite way to get his attention. Luckily, Cedric chose that moment to look up from his studies, starting slightly when he saw Oliver. "Hello," he said. Cedric's voice cracked slightly and he cleared his throat before speaking again. "I thought the Gryffindor's practised this evening?" "We do," Oliver began. "That is, we usually do. Unfortunately, Potter is ill and the rest of my team aren't keen to practise in the snow." "Why ever not?" Cedric said, sounding surprised that flying around in the freezing cold wasn't everyone's idea of a good time. "It must be beautiful out there, like someone has covered the castle in a glimmering, thick blanket of snow." For a moment, Oliver was taken aback by the poetic description Cedric had given. Cedric was often silent, but when he did speak, his words formed almost perfect phrases. "I was hoping you'd say that." Said Oliver finally. "I wondered if you'd like to come out and fly with me? Just for half an hour, until it's properly dark." Cedric bit his lip and looked down, unsure. "Oliver, I'd love to, but I've got three feet to write for Flitwick, on Switching Spells, and it's..." Cedric paused and closed his eyes. Swiftly, he supped his hands over his nose and mouth. "Hiiihhh-Ishhuh!" he sneezed. "Bless you," Oliver said, offhandedly. "Look, is the homework for tomorrow?" "No, for Friday," Cedric replied, sniffling softly. "But there's something else, I..." "Right, then come with me tonight and I'll find the essay I wrote for it last year. I think I did all right on it. Then you can get all the information for there. Can't say fairer than that, can you?" "I supposed not," Cedric consented with a smile. He began to pack the books away in his bag. "Give me ten minutes to change and fetch my broom, and I'll meet you in the entrance hall, ok?" "Brilliant," said Oliver. He was smiling too, though it seemed to be less to do with the thought of flying than the look in Cedric's eyes when he had smiled at him. "I'll see you then," he added, almost stumbling out of the library with excitement. Oliver waited impatiently by the doors in the entrance hall. For a reason he couldn't work out, he kept fiddling with his hair, wondering if it looked all right. Perhaps he should have checked in a mirror before he left, but he was anxious not to keep Cedric waiting. As it was, he had arrived three minutes early. At that moment, he saw Cedric walking towards him at a steady pace, but out of breath, as if he had been running. "Not late, am I?" he called. "Not at all," Oliver told him, pushing open one of the huge doors. The two boys stepped outside into chilled evening air. The wind was winnowing softly over the ground, tossing the peaceful flakes this way, then that. A light dusting of them appeared, like icing sugar in the hair of the two boys. They began to walked down towards the lake, when suddenly Cedric stopped. He raised his right arm, and buried the lower half of his face in its crook. The arm that was holding his broom went rigid. "hihhh-Ishhhoo! Hhhpp-Ishhhoo!" Cedric sniffed hard and removed his hand. "Excuse me," he said flushing slightly. His voice sounded cracked and strained. "The cold air. It always-er- does that." "Right," said Oliver, wondering exactly why Cedric had offered an explanation when it seemed entirely unnecessary and if the pink on Cedric's cheeks was really from the icy breeze. By now they had reached the shore of the lake. A thick layer of ice coated its surface, which the light reflected off, making it sparkle like crystal. "Let's fly over it," Oliver said impulsively. "All right, but don't go falling off now," Cedric teased good-naturedly, as he mounted his broom and kicked off hard. "What do you mean, falling off?" Oliver asked, following him upwards into the air. "Well, Gryffindors are famed for their ability to fall off brooms in any situation," Cedric yelled, as he flew in a loop around Oliver. "I seem to remember that, in my second year, the Gryffindor keeper took a rather spectacular tumble. Hit by a Bludger, I believe." Both boys were laughing by now as they soared over the lake and into the grounds. "Aye, well that's only because Gryffindors aren't afraid to take a few risks," retorted Oliver, smiling as he flew lower, his broom only a few feet from the snow covered grass. Cedric dropped down next to Oliver to listen to him. "Unlike another the members of another house I could name," Oliver continued, looking over at Cedric, who appeared somewhat distracted. Thinking that Cedric was pretending not to take any notice, Oliver reached over and gave his a gentle shove on his shoulder, just another to get his attention. To his surprise, Oliver watched over his shoulder as Cedric fell off his broom and landed with a thump in the snow. Quickly, Oliver spun his broom around and dismounted. Allowing his broom to fall into the snow, he jogged towards Cedric. "Now who was talking about falling?" "hhhehh-Ishhhooo! Ihhshhooo! Heh-TISHOOO!" Cedric sneezed violently, before groaning softly. Only then did he look around, and appear to realise what happened. "Are you all right?" asked Oliver, as he reached where Cedric was sitting. "Sure, I only fell a few feet and the snow is soft enough." "No, I didn't mean that," Oliver said gently. Cedric sniffed, and looked shyly down. "Well, I was starting to feel a bit rough earlier in library," he confessed, before adding, "and half the school is ill with something." "So I hear," Oliver muttered to himself, pulling a creased handkerchief from the pocket of his coat and handing it to Cedric, who was still sniffling. Cedric looked suspiciously at it. "Take it. I promise it's clean, just a little crumpled." "Thanks," Cedric replied. He blew his nose firmly into it several times. "Come on, we should get you inside," Oliver said, reaching out his hand to Cedric, who took it gratefully, and hauled himself up. Standing next to each other in the falling snow, both boys seemed reluctant to let go of each other's hand. "I-er.. better- er- get my broom," Oliver mumbled, conscious of exactly how like liquid Cedric's eyes were. "Right, yes, me too," Cedric stuttered, letting his hand slip slowly from Oliver's. The walk back up to the castle seemed more arduous that the walk down. The snow that had settled made the slight climb hard work, and Oliver knew that if the cold air was burning his lungs, then Cedric must be feeling even worse. Without really thinking about it, he unwound the red and gold striped scarf from his neck, and handed it to Cedric. Cedric accepted it silently, yet Oliver felt his gratitude in the soft smile Cedric gave him. "Why did you come with me if you weren't feeling well?" Oliver asked suddenly. Cedric thought about his answer for a second. "Well, you were very persuasive," he began. Oliver looked down guilty, which Cedric could not fail to notice. "No, not, it wasn't really that at all. I've barely seen you since summer, and I missed spending time with you." He paused. "That sounds really stupid, doesn't it?" "No, it doesn't," replied Oliver, softly. "It doesn't at all." They had reached the castle by now, and did not linger outside the large doors. Even the large hall felt cosy compared to the bitter chill outside and both boys gave a sigh of relief to be in the warm. Cedric sniffed more strongly, the sudden heat making his nose run. "Sorry," he said, looking rather embarrassed. "You should change out of those damp clothes and warm up," Oliver suggested, looking over Cedric's robes, which were wet from the snow. "You don't want to make your cold worse." "Oh, it's not that- hehhh- Ishhhhuhhh! Huhhishhh!- not that bad," Cedric said sniffling and blushing even more. "Bless you," Oliver said. "My mam always recommended piping hot chicken soup in situations like this. It always made me feel better. I could, maybe, go to the kitchens, if you wanted?" "I can think of something else you could do to make me feel better," Cedric said. "Really, what is it? I want to help, I still feel bad about dragging you out into the snow." "No matter what it is?" "Yes, no matter what it is," said Oliver, his eagerness to help Cedric blinding him to the increasingly flirtatious look in Cedric's eyes. Anything that would help Cedric get over his cold, make Cedric like him more? It was at that moment that Oliver realised Cedric was leaning closer towards him, his eyes closed. Automatically, and without knowing why he did so, Oliver closed his eyes too. He felt Cedric's cold lips brush against his own. They were soft and gentle, drawing Oliver into returning the kiss. A shiver ran through his body, but the nice kind that signalled excitement at the unknown. The kiss seemed to spiral on and on, but really it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before Cedric pulled away, a little of his damp hair brushing Oliver's burning cheek. Oliver opened his eyes, lost for words. "Was that?" said Cedric, and then sighed. "Stupid idea," he mumbled. "Look, we can forget it ever." "No!" Oliver cried. "I mean, I don't know about you, but I?" "Reallly? I thought that you maybe?" "Oh no, I feel the same." "Since Summer I haven't stopped thinking?" "I think about you all the time too." "That's why I came tonight." "So can we??" "Yes, I mean, soon." They were both speaking so quickly now, talking over one another in their haste to express what neither of them had actually said. They stared at each other in wonderment, eyes glowing in the dim light of the entrance hall. "You'd better go and get warmed up," Oliver whispered. Cedric nodded slowly. "Good night, Oliver," he said, softly. "Good night, Cedric," Oliver replied. | |||||
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Created & Organized by A & tarotgal |
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