Vicki (hermorrine) wrote,

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First Kiss Challenge Fic

Here is my entry for The First Kiss Project

His Entire Life Was Quidditch by Morrigan.

His entire life was Quidditch.

He'd spent all his school years at Hogwarts breathing Quidditch. As a first year he went out for the tryouts even though his Housemates told him he'd never make it onto the team. He knew they were right, but it was a wise decision all the same - the captain at that time, one Aidan Corrant, had told him he thought Oliver had talent. With Aidan's help he learned quite a bit during his first year, and often attended practices with the team, so that by the time he was a second year the tryout was merely a formality. No one in Gryffindor begrudged him the position, either - they all knew how hard he worked and how badly he wanted it. He had been the Gryffindor Keeper ever since. When Aidan left school a year later, everyone on the team simply expected him to take over as Captain, and he admitted as how it felt natural. Everyone knew that his entire life was Quidditch.

He'd spent a number of years in frustration, watching as the Slytherin team continued to beat Gryffindor without seeming to blink an eye. But then, when he was a 5th year, Harry Potter came to Hogwarts, and Oliver knew things would be different. He was right. They came so close to winning the Quidditch cup in both his 5th and 6th years that it was nearly painful when it didn't happen. Gryffindor had won the House Cup both those years, largely due to things Potter had done off the Quidditch field, and Oliver occasionally felt a slight offense at this. He knew it was silly, that it wasn't Potter's fault that these things kept happening to him, but he wanted the Quidditch Cup so badly he couldn't express it. Before he even realized it, it was his 7th and final year at Hogwarts. This was it - if Gryffindor didn't win the Quidditch Cup this year, well...there were no more chances for Oliver. He knew that other things should matter more to him - like Sirius Black breaking into the school - but he couldn't hide his desperation. He knew he had the better team. When they lost to Hufflepuff because of the Dementors getting to Potter, he thought he would die. But the whole team was determined - it made his heart swell to know that they wanted it for him. He knew he hadn't spent enough time with them, with anyone, really - his obsession with Quidditch always overtook any thought of friendships, let alone more. He refused to let himself be distracted by such things. His entire life was Quidditch.

Before he knew it, it was the final game of his school years. As was fitting, it was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup, him against his rival Marcus Flint. The game was fast and furious and filled with Slytherin dirtiness, but his team had shown what they were made of. The better team won. After 7 years of working towards it, Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup. He couldn't contain his happiness. He couldn't even express it properly. He was barely aware of the tears falling down his face. He'd hugged each of his teammates so tightly they complained of bruised ribs, and then they had the biggest party ever seen in the Gryffindor common room. Cakes and puddings from the school kitchens, butterbeer and sweets that could only have come from Hogsmeade, and Oliver enjoyed every bit. He laughed with his team, relived the best moments of their triumph over and over. His entire life was Quidditch.

He hadn't expected the overwhelming feeling of emptiness he felt at the end of the evening. He sat before the fire in the common room as everyone else drifted off to bed, smiling up at his Housemates as they clapped him on the shoulder one last time. As he stared into the flames he felt a sense of unease settle over him. He realized didn't know who he was any longer. The goal he'd had for seven years had been met. He had done it. What was there for him now? His entire life was Quidditch.

And suddenly he was there, his red hair gleaming like copper, his face aglow with equal measures of firelight and hero worship. Why exactly he stayed behind when everyone else, including his best friend and older twin brothers - all team members - went to bed, Oliver never knew. All he knew was that Ron was what he needed at that moment -- someone to believe in him when he himself no longer had reason to do so. They moved their chairs closer together so that their knees were nearly touching. They talked about the game, about Oliver's possible future as a professional Quidditch player, about Ron's dreams to play for Gryffindor. They laughed, they were serious, and without either of them realizing what they were doing, they kissed. Ron's lips were soft yet firm, yielding but also forceful. Oliver was lost in the moment, the fumbling of lips clashing against lips the way they always do when innocence collides with inexperience. He felt so much emotion welling up inside him that he was afraid his tears would fall before Ron's lips left his. Oliver finally breathed, looking into the eager blue eyes; the cute freckled face, and wondered why he waited so long for his first kiss - for their first kiss. And then it struck him like a physical blow to the chest: he knew exactly why, and he also knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again - his entire life was Quidditch.

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