Title: Quidditch Mornings
Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th years--implication of slash
Word Count: 463 according to word
A/N: The pairing in this has absolutely nothing to do with biasing a certain barmaid.
He doesn’t look forward to the first match of the season so much as he looks forward to the first practice. There are cool, crisp October mornings, cold, frosty October nights. The rest of the team hates it, but Oliver can’t get enough of it. He can’t help but feel twice as alive when he’s out on the field.
Regular days are monotone. They pass by in a flurry of faded colours. Oliver barely notices them.
Quidditch days are different. They don’t pass by, they fly by, in rainbows of colour. It’s why Oliver schedules the practices so early. He can’t bear to miss a moment of the only thing that makes him feel alive.
The other players don’t feel the way he does. They fall asleep and groan at him when he wakes them up at dawn. They refuse to get out of bed. They joke around. And Oliver appreciates this, but he needs someone to feel the way he does. He needs someone to be alive with him.
Cedric knows how to be alive.
Sometimes, in the mornings, even before Oliver goes to wake up the rest of the team, he’ll come out to the Quidditch field. Cedric will be there.
Later on, once they have established their meeting place, Cedric will wait for Oliver. The sun will be rising, and Cedric will watch, holding his broomstick with one hand, not letting it touch the ground.
The cold October mornings are Oliver’s favourite part of the day. He thinks it is because of Quidditch--what else would it be? but soon he comes to wonder if it might be because of Cedric.
They’ll fly around the pitch together, sometimes racing, sometimes practicing moves that only professional Quidditch players should be able to do. But most of the time, they will fly side by side, talking.
Oliver would say that they were friends but that’s too small of a word to describe how he and Cedric have grown together. Too small of a word to describe the way that Oliver feels on Quidditch mornings, the way that he’s sure Cedric feels too.
It’s the first Quidditch morning of Oliver’s final year at Hogwarts. It’s bright, not dark like it will be in later months, and the grass has frosted over. Oliver is careful with his broomstick as he steps carefully through the cold, wet grass on the way to the Quidditch pitch.
Cedric isn’t there yet.
Oliver waits for a long time, too long, in some sort of vain hope that Cedric will come and see him.
Oliver hopes that Cedric’s just forgotten that Quidditch starts today (but how could he forget?) but after the next weekend passes, and the next, he starts blindly wishing that Cedric will come.