I'm closing this, but adding my own drabble for Russia.
Name: Equinox Chick
Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd. SSP. Mild Profanity
Present you would owl Russia: Hotbloke.
A/N: I am rather amused that this is the third drabble featuring this pairing. Ah, Drowning, not Waving, one day I'll write the sequel.
“Oy, Wood!” called Dermot Sedgewick from the far side of the changing room. “Hurry up in that bloody shower. You’ve work to do.”
Oliver groaned inwardly. As third reserve for Puddlemere United, it was his job after practise to clean all the goggles. The fact that Sedgewick, as second reserve, had been promoted to polishing Quaffles only added to his irritation because he disliked him intensely.
Sedgewick had been an arrogant git of a Hufflepuff when Oliver had first joined the Gryffindor team. He’d never let up with the taunts to his opposite number and encouraged his Beaters to do the same. In Oliver’s first match, Paul Ryfold had made sure his Bludger found its mark; Oliver had woken up in the hospital wing with only Madam Pomfrey for company.
His shoulders were aching from the intense practise and what he really wanted to do was go back to his grotty flat and soak in a hot bath letting his thoughts drift.
No, he thought. I can’t think of him. He’s made his choice.
With a heavy sigh, Oliver dressed and then set about collecting the dirty goggles. Cleaning spells were discouraged in case they scratched the glass, so Oliver levitated a batch into a bucket of hot soapy water, and stirred with his wand.
“Do you want some help?” said a voice from the door.
Oliver looked up, hardly able to believe his eyes and ears. “What are you doing here?”
“Needed to see you,” Cedric mumbled.
As Cedric lifted his head and stared, Oliver was appalled at the change in him. The last time they’d met up, Cedric had been a laughing hunk of a boy, declaring stoutly that he wouldn’t look at anyone else and would wait for Oliver.
Then he’d been chosen as the Hogwarts Champion and suddenly Cedric wasn’t as eager to meet up. The letters had all but ceased, and Oliver knew why when he saw The Prophet’s story about the Yule Ball.
“Brought Chang with you?” Oliver asked, his voice loaded with sarcasm.
Shaking his head, Cedric slumped against the wall. To Oliver’s horror, tears began to slide down his face. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve screwed everything up, but it was just easier-” He broke off, a sob catching in his throat.
Tentatively, Oliver took a step towards him, then another and another.
“What’s happened?” he asked in a much gentler tone.
“Second task,” Cedric muttered. “We had to save the person we’d miss the most from the lake.” He gulped. “I was swimming through this dark water, praying my Bubblehead Charm would hold and all the while terrified that I’d be too late.”
“You weren’t though,” Oliver stated softly. “I read in the paper that you saved her.”
“Yeah, yeah, I saved her.” Then, with his hand, he reached across and stroked Oliver’s cheek. “But as soon as I saw her, I knew it was wrong. It’s always going to be you I’ll miss the most, Oliver.”