(no subject)
May. 10th, 2006 05:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardTitle: Figuring Strategies
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bedlamsbard
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Characters: Cedric Diggory/Oliver Wood, Fred and George Weasley
Spoilers: PoA
Wordcount: 1736
Summary: “You go talk to Oliver –” “– and we’ll leave you alone.” “If you don’t –” “– we’ll make your life a living hell.” “Clear?”
Author's Notes: Sequel to "Lust." Title fromminisinoo
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The moment he steps into Greenhouse Five, Cedric has a horrible feeling of déjà vu. He only hears one word in ten of Professor Sprout’s introduction as his eyes track automatically across the rows of tables and find the scuffed spot on the ground. He lost a button from his Quidditch robes that night; he can see it glinting half-hidden in the dirt, burnished black silver badger’s head and miniature citrine eyes staring him down. Cedric wants to go over and scoop it up, just in case anyone sees it and guesses, but there’s no way he can get past the crowd of Gryffindors surrounding him to get to it.
He misses the end of Sprout’s speech too, because the next thing he knows he’s being chivvied along by the Weasley twins, who have flanked him on either side and are steering him toward the far end of the greenhouse. Ahead, any escape route is blocked by Lee Jordan, who’s flirting delicately with Ruby Broadmoor, who only looks like she wants to hit him a little bit; behind, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet are gossiping merrily away. He’s surrounded by Gryffindors on every side; it’s like a bloody siege. When he looks for help, it’s only to realize that Riley is too busy staring at Johnson’s backside to notice his plight.
“Take a plant, take a plant,” Sprout says, striding along the rows. “Weasley, Weasley, and Diggory, very good. Nice spirit of interhouse cooperation there. Gloves and masks, people, you don’t want this getting on your skin. Jordan, Broadmoor, no boy-girl pairs, not on this plant. Jordan, why don’t you take Mr. Summers, and Miss Broadmoor –”
“I’ll go with Ceci and Alyssa,” Ruby says, looking relieved to escape getting put with Johnson and Spinnet. She’s one of Cedric’s Beaters, and never one to avoid a fight, but they all have a very Hufflepuff appreciation of the sanctity of the greenhouse. A hex would probably ruin the plants.
“Don’t bruise the blossoms!” Sprout shrieks in the general direction of Riley and Lee, who look close to jinxing each other already, and races off to save her precious plants.
Weasley and Weasley flank Cedric. “So, Diggory,” one of them says, voice muffled by the mask.
“Oliver’s been acting very odd lately,” the other one adds.
“Ever since the last Quidditch match, actually –”
“– which clearly makes this your fault.” They stop and stare expectantly at Cedric.
“This is about Wood?” Cedric says, for lack of anything else to say.
The twins nod in tandem. “Clearly,” the one on the right sniffs. He leans forward and clips a bud off the Amoria plant, drops the bud in the bucket on the table, and snaps the scissors pointedly in front of Cedric’s nose. He does it a few more times for good measure and Cedric has to force himself not to jump back, swearing.
“He’s gone mad,” the other twin says. “In the library all hours of the day and night.”
Cedric hadn’t realized studying was actually illegal in Gryffindor House.
“He has Quidditch records from the past two centuries. He’s obsessed.”
“Of course, we already knew that.”
“But not like this.”
“This is different.”
Cedric’s head swings back and forth the same way it does when he’s watching a pair of Chasers passing the Quaffle back and forth across the pitch.
“It’s like he’s trying to become one with the Quidditch pitch,” the twin on the left says.
“Only without actually going out onto the Quidditch pitch,” the one on the right corrects.
“He has a miniature Quidditch pitch.”
“He carries it around everywhere.”
“Sort of scary, actually.”
“He even has the records from that 1803 game where the Ravenclaw Keeper tried to murder the Hufflepuff Seeker with a crossbow.”
“The Hufflepuff Beaters tried to curse him and had to be dragged off the pitch.”
“Apparently it was very traumatizing for all involved.”
“But we digress.” Identical hazel gazes turn on him; Cedric blinks at the double intensity therein.
“You go talk to Oliver –”
“– and we’ll leave you alone.”
“If you don’t –”
“– we’ll make your life a living hell.”
“Clear?”
Cedric’s gaze flicks back and forth between them. “You’re actually serious,” he says finally.
The one on the right smiles, showing teeth. “Deadly,” he says.
Angelina Johnson leans over from the next plant over with Spinnet just behind her. “And if they don’t kill you,” she says, shears in one hand and her wand in the other, “we’ll do that.”
Spinnet reaches over her shoulder and drops something on the table in front of Cedric. “By the way,” she says sweetly, “I think you dropped something.”
It’s his missing button. Cedric has to restrain himself from Unforgivable-ing all the Amoria plants in the greenhouse.
*
Oliver’s built himself a barricade of books – on Quidditch, on Quodpot, on the history of broomsticks and magical sports, old transcripts of Quidditch games dating back to Queerditch Marsh – everything he can find, which isn’t too much of the early stuff. He sets up the miniature pitch he special-ordered from Quality Quidditch Supplies in the middle of the fort and prods the figures around with his wand. One team is red, of course; the other is customarily green.
Currently, the green team is kicking the red team’s arse.
Oliver shoves the board away and picks up a book at random. From Queerditch to Quaffle is an intense history, but he’s not Percy, he’s not constantly in the mood for studying. The next one he picks up is a transcript of the 1899 Falcons-Canons game, which he leans back and starts flipping through, skimming for the interesting parts.
Someone coughs behind him.
Oliver jumps so high he upsets the stack he’s pretty sure is Hogwarts records and turns around with his wand half out of his sleeve, remembering Harry and the Dementors, though on second thought, Dumbledore would probably kill any Dementor that set foot inside the castle and anyway, do Dementors even cough?
When he sees Cedric Diggory, he starts wishing for the Dementors.
“Er,” Diggory says, and they stare at each other, Oliver with his wand raised between them. Diggory takes half a step back and then seems to steel himself. “Ah, hullo.”
“What are you doing here, Diggory?” Oliver demands, because he’s a Gryffindor. Subtlety is not a House trait.
Diggory looks alarmed and rather like he wants to run away, then his eyes flick up above Oliver’s head and he visibly braces himself. “Er,” he says again, and then, “We should talk.”
“Talk? Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about!” Oliver pauses and thinks that over. “Unless, of course, you want to talk strategy, in which case, what do you think of the team Davies has put together this year? Did you hear whether or not Chang’s flying again?”
Diggory looks startled this time. “I, ah, haven’t given it much thought…”
Oliver has to restrain the urge to leap forward and shake him by the shoulders. “You haven’t given it much thought? You’re playing Ravenclaw next! They’re a good team, very tight, but if Chang’s not playing – well – you might have a chance, you’re a good Seeker but so is she, but the Ravenclaw Chasers are good, very good, and no offense, Diggory, but your Chasers aren’t as tight as they should be and you should look for a better Keeper because I could get through Watson’s poor excuse for a figure eight and I haven’t played Chaser since I was about three –”
“Wood!” Diggory says, looking alarmed. “We’re taking Ravenclaw seriously, I’m just giving my people a break because of the weather.”
“Because of the weather?” Oliver demands. “No wonder Hufflepuff is the easiest team in Hogwarts to beat, you stop training because of the bloody weather –”
Diggory scowls. “We beat you,” he says.
“Only because Dementors invaded the pitch!” Oliver’s well aware of the fact his voice is getting higher and higher and Pince is probably going to throw them both out of the library soon. Which would be very bad, since all his books were in the library and bloody Merlin, he actually was channeling Percy, wasn’t he?
Diggory’s eyes flick upward again, and Oliver whirls in time to see a flash of red hair disappearing behind a bookcase.
“Oh, no,” he says. “Oh, no. I will kill them. WEASLEY!” he bellows, and Fred’s head pops up above the bookshelf.
“Shh, Oliver,” he says, grinning. “The charm won’t last long before Pince hears you imitating a dragon mating call and comes bulling in here. Get it over with quick or take it somewhere more private.”
Diggory looks like he wants to punch Fred in the face. Oliver empathizes.
“Weasley,” the Hufflepuff hisses.
George pops up next to Fred. “Fancy seeing you here, Oliver. Diggory,” he adds, nodding at Diggory. Then he looks at his twin. “I suppose he knows we’re involved, since you’re doing the Peeping Tom thing.”
Diggory has his face in his hands. Oliver is wondering if it’s legal for the team captain to beat the Beaters.
Fred hisses at George. George looks at him. “What?”
“We’re giving them alone time to work out their commitment issues,” Fred says pointedly.
“Oh,” George says. “Right. Sorry!” And they both disappear behind the bookshelf again.
Oliver glares in their general direction and considers firing off hexes indiscriminately, then sees Diggory’s bright red face and reconsiders. “I’ll kill them,” he growls.
“I think they’re still here,” Diggory says, looking unnaturally scarlet for someone whose House colors are yellow and black.
Oliver, frowning, takes a step forward; Diggory backs up into another bookshelf. “Hang on,” he says. “Are you saying this is all actually Fred and George’s idea?”
Diggory stares off into the space next to Oliver’s head. “I was just trying to do my Herbology work,” he says finally.
Oliver nearly wants to laugh with relief, although he’s not sure why. “All right,” he says. “So you’re really just here to figure out Gryffindor’s strategies for the next match. Well, it’s not going to happen.”
Diggory’s face relaxes, and he licks his lips and stares up at Oliver. He’s almost as tall as Oliver, but just barely several hairs shorter. “Oh,” he says, “I’ll have you know that Gryffindor has exactly one strategy.”
Oliver leans in closer. “And what’s that?”
“Get the Snitch,” Diggory says, “or die trying.”
And Oliver laughs.
Author:
bedlamsbardFandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Characters: Cedric Diggory/Oliver Wood, Fred and George Weasley
Spoilers: PoA
Wordcount: 1736
Summary: “You go talk to Oliver –” “– and we’ll leave you alone.” “If you don’t –” “– we’ll make your life a living hell.” “Clear?”
Author's Notes: Sequel to "Lust." Title from
minisinooDisclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The moment he steps into Greenhouse Five, Cedric has a horrible feeling of déjà vu. He only hears one word in ten of Professor Sprout’s introduction as his eyes track automatically across the rows of tables and find the scuffed spot on the ground. He lost a button from his Quidditch robes that night; he can see it glinting half-hidden in the dirt, burnished black silver badger’s head and miniature citrine eyes staring him down. Cedric wants to go over and scoop it up, just in case anyone sees it and guesses, but there’s no way he can get past the crowd of Gryffindors surrounding him to get to it.
He misses the end of Sprout’s speech too, because the next thing he knows he’s being chivvied along by the Weasley twins, who have flanked him on either side and are steering him toward the far end of the greenhouse. Ahead, any escape route is blocked by Lee Jordan, who’s flirting delicately with Ruby Broadmoor, who only looks like she wants to hit him a little bit; behind, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet are gossiping merrily away. He’s surrounded by Gryffindors on every side; it’s like a bloody siege. When he looks for help, it’s only to realize that Riley is too busy staring at Johnson’s backside to notice his plight.
“Take a plant, take a plant,” Sprout says, striding along the rows. “Weasley, Weasley, and Diggory, very good. Nice spirit of interhouse cooperation there. Gloves and masks, people, you don’t want this getting on your skin. Jordan, Broadmoor, no boy-girl pairs, not on this plant. Jordan, why don’t you take Mr. Summers, and Miss Broadmoor –”
“I’ll go with Ceci and Alyssa,” Ruby says, looking relieved to escape getting put with Johnson and Spinnet. She’s one of Cedric’s Beaters, and never one to avoid a fight, but they all have a very Hufflepuff appreciation of the sanctity of the greenhouse. A hex would probably ruin the plants.
“Don’t bruise the blossoms!” Sprout shrieks in the general direction of Riley and Lee, who look close to jinxing each other already, and races off to save her precious plants.
Weasley and Weasley flank Cedric. “So, Diggory,” one of them says, voice muffled by the mask.
“Oliver’s been acting very odd lately,” the other one adds.
“Ever since the last Quidditch match, actually –”
“– which clearly makes this your fault.” They stop and stare expectantly at Cedric.
“This is about Wood?” Cedric says, for lack of anything else to say.
The twins nod in tandem. “Clearly,” the one on the right sniffs. He leans forward and clips a bud off the Amoria plant, drops the bud in the bucket on the table, and snaps the scissors pointedly in front of Cedric’s nose. He does it a few more times for good measure and Cedric has to force himself not to jump back, swearing.
“He’s gone mad,” the other twin says. “In the library all hours of the day and night.”
Cedric hadn’t realized studying was actually illegal in Gryffindor House.
“He has Quidditch records from the past two centuries. He’s obsessed.”
“Of course, we already knew that.”
“But not like this.”
“This is different.”
Cedric’s head swings back and forth the same way it does when he’s watching a pair of Chasers passing the Quaffle back and forth across the pitch.
“It’s like he’s trying to become one with the Quidditch pitch,” the twin on the left says.
“Only without actually going out onto the Quidditch pitch,” the one on the right corrects.
“He has a miniature Quidditch pitch.”
“He carries it around everywhere.”
“Sort of scary, actually.”
“He even has the records from that 1803 game where the Ravenclaw Keeper tried to murder the Hufflepuff Seeker with a crossbow.”
“The Hufflepuff Beaters tried to curse him and had to be dragged off the pitch.”
“Apparently it was very traumatizing for all involved.”
“But we digress.” Identical hazel gazes turn on him; Cedric blinks at the double intensity therein.
“You go talk to Oliver –”
“– and we’ll leave you alone.”
“If you don’t –”
“– we’ll make your life a living hell.”
“Clear?”
Cedric’s gaze flicks back and forth between them. “You’re actually serious,” he says finally.
The one on the right smiles, showing teeth. “Deadly,” he says.
Angelina Johnson leans over from the next plant over with Spinnet just behind her. “And if they don’t kill you,” she says, shears in one hand and her wand in the other, “we’ll do that.”
Spinnet reaches over her shoulder and drops something on the table in front of Cedric. “By the way,” she says sweetly, “I think you dropped something.”
It’s his missing button. Cedric has to restrain himself from Unforgivable-ing all the Amoria plants in the greenhouse.
*
Oliver’s built himself a barricade of books – on Quidditch, on Quodpot, on the history of broomsticks and magical sports, old transcripts of Quidditch games dating back to Queerditch Marsh – everything he can find, which isn’t too much of the early stuff. He sets up the miniature pitch he special-ordered from Quality Quidditch Supplies in the middle of the fort and prods the figures around with his wand. One team is red, of course; the other is customarily green.
Currently, the green team is kicking the red team’s arse.
Oliver shoves the board away and picks up a book at random. From Queerditch to Quaffle is an intense history, but he’s not Percy, he’s not constantly in the mood for studying. The next one he picks up is a transcript of the 1899 Falcons-Canons game, which he leans back and starts flipping through, skimming for the interesting parts.
Someone coughs behind him.
Oliver jumps so high he upsets the stack he’s pretty sure is Hogwarts records and turns around with his wand half out of his sleeve, remembering Harry and the Dementors, though on second thought, Dumbledore would probably kill any Dementor that set foot inside the castle and anyway, do Dementors even cough?
When he sees Cedric Diggory, he starts wishing for the Dementors.
“Er,” Diggory says, and they stare at each other, Oliver with his wand raised between them. Diggory takes half a step back and then seems to steel himself. “Ah, hullo.”
“What are you doing here, Diggory?” Oliver demands, because he’s a Gryffindor. Subtlety is not a House trait.
Diggory looks alarmed and rather like he wants to run away, then his eyes flick up above Oliver’s head and he visibly braces himself. “Er,” he says again, and then, “We should talk.”
“Talk? Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about!” Oliver pauses and thinks that over. “Unless, of course, you want to talk strategy, in which case, what do you think of the team Davies has put together this year? Did you hear whether or not Chang’s flying again?”
Diggory looks startled this time. “I, ah, haven’t given it much thought…”
Oliver has to restrain the urge to leap forward and shake him by the shoulders. “You haven’t given it much thought? You’re playing Ravenclaw next! They’re a good team, very tight, but if Chang’s not playing – well – you might have a chance, you’re a good Seeker but so is she, but the Ravenclaw Chasers are good, very good, and no offense, Diggory, but your Chasers aren’t as tight as they should be and you should look for a better Keeper because I could get through Watson’s poor excuse for a figure eight and I haven’t played Chaser since I was about three –”
“Wood!” Diggory says, looking alarmed. “We’re taking Ravenclaw seriously, I’m just giving my people a break because of the weather.”
“Because of the weather?” Oliver demands. “No wonder Hufflepuff is the easiest team in Hogwarts to beat, you stop training because of the bloody weather –”
Diggory scowls. “We beat you,” he says.
“Only because Dementors invaded the pitch!” Oliver’s well aware of the fact his voice is getting higher and higher and Pince is probably going to throw them both out of the library soon. Which would be very bad, since all his books were in the library and bloody Merlin, he actually was channeling Percy, wasn’t he?
Diggory’s eyes flick upward again, and Oliver whirls in time to see a flash of red hair disappearing behind a bookcase.
“Oh, no,” he says. “Oh, no. I will kill them. WEASLEY!” he bellows, and Fred’s head pops up above the bookshelf.
“Shh, Oliver,” he says, grinning. “The charm won’t last long before Pince hears you imitating a dragon mating call and comes bulling in here. Get it over with quick or take it somewhere more private.”
Diggory looks like he wants to punch Fred in the face. Oliver empathizes.
“Weasley,” the Hufflepuff hisses.
George pops up next to Fred. “Fancy seeing you here, Oliver. Diggory,” he adds, nodding at Diggory. Then he looks at his twin. “I suppose he knows we’re involved, since you’re doing the Peeping Tom thing.”
Diggory has his face in his hands. Oliver is wondering if it’s legal for the team captain to beat the Beaters.
Fred hisses at George. George looks at him. “What?”
“We’re giving them alone time to work out their commitment issues,” Fred says pointedly.
“Oh,” George says. “Right. Sorry!” And they both disappear behind the bookshelf again.
Oliver glares in their general direction and considers firing off hexes indiscriminately, then sees Diggory’s bright red face and reconsiders. “I’ll kill them,” he growls.
“I think they’re still here,” Diggory says, looking unnaturally scarlet for someone whose House colors are yellow and black.
Oliver, frowning, takes a step forward; Diggory backs up into another bookshelf. “Hang on,” he says. “Are you saying this is all actually Fred and George’s idea?”
Diggory stares off into the space next to Oliver’s head. “I was just trying to do my Herbology work,” he says finally.
Oliver nearly wants to laugh with relief, although he’s not sure why. “All right,” he says. “So you’re really just here to figure out Gryffindor’s strategies for the next match. Well, it’s not going to happen.”
Diggory’s face relaxes, and he licks his lips and stares up at Oliver. He’s almost as tall as Oliver, but just barely several hairs shorter. “Oh,” he says, “I’ll have you know that Gryffindor has exactly one strategy.”
Oliver leans in closer. “And what’s that?”
“Get the Snitch,” Diggory says, “or die trying.”
And Oliver laughs.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 06:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 08:05 am (UTC)Two small typos:
So you’re really just hear to figure out Gryffindor’s strategies ...
here
Oliver emphasizes.
empathizes.
My favorite line:
When he sees Cedric Diggory, he starts wishing for the Dementors.
HOWLS with laughter. Though the snitch comment was a close second. (And I confess, I did wonder what happened to the snitch in Cedric's hand that he brought into the greenhouse with him. Totally random comment.)
The button was a nice touch. (G)
Okay, now ... what happens next? (GGG)
(I'm really good at poking people for stories I find interesting. LOL!)
I'll also confess that I'd love to see a section from the POV of the Gryffindor fifth years, on how they figured it out. Maybe Angelina. She's always struck me as pretty sharp. (G)
(See, like I said, I'm good at poking, sicking bunnies, whatever it takes ... I'm just getting a kick out of the boy angst ... which is very different from girl angst.)
God, now I need an Oliver/Cedric icon. I think you've converted me to Oliver/Cedric as well as Krum/Cedric.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 11:06 pm (UTC)Typos! Argh! *goes to fix* I went through looking for spelling errors and missing words (you have no idea how many times I typed "Diggoy" in "Lust"), but silly wrong words...
(And I confess, I did wonder what happened to the snitch in Cedric's hand that he brought into the greenhouse with him. Totally random comment.)
It got loose and started fluttering around the greenhouse. Either Oliver or Cedric caught it after they woke up and took it back to Madame Hooch's office. I was thinking whoever woke up second, but I suppose it could also have been both of them, bumbling around the greenhouse and trying not to knock things over.
Okay, now ... what happens next?
Oliver graduates, Cedric dies, the war goes on for six years after HBP. Coming soon to a computer near you.
Oh, you meant immediately? No clue.
I'll also confess that I'd love to see a section from the POV of the Gryffindor fifth years, on how they figured it out. Maybe Angelina. She's always struck me as pretty sharp.
Oh no! *goes and hides* Back, I tell you, back!
God, now I need an Oliver/Cedric icon. I think you've converted me to Oliver/Cedric as well as Krum/Cedric.
Hurrah! Rareships will conquer the world! (I think I should probably find an HP icon to replace one of my four CSI:NY ones)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 05:11 pm (UTC)I told you, I like encouraging bunnies.
Rareships will conquer the world!
(g) I'm not sure I'm up to Oliver/Cedric yet, but I did start a (mostly) humor fic with slashy Cedric/Victor themes. Not sure when that will see the light of day (humor is not really my forte), but it's fun to dabble.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 11:46 pm (UTC)*sigh* At least right now all my bunnies are nibbling on the corners of the post-War Oliver story. Except for the one in the corner. Yes, you, I mean you, the one with the pink nose and the brown ears. Don't pout at me that way, bunny, Easter's already come and gone.
*pause* Oh, crap. GET BACK.
(g) I'm not sure I'm up to Oliver/Cedric yet, but I did start a (mostly) humor fic with slashy Cedric/Victor themes. Not sure when that will see the light of day (humor is not really my forte), but it's fun to dabble.
Oh, I don't do humor either (action-drama, anyone?), but dabbling is lots of fun. And Krum/Cedric and Cedric/Hermione definitely qualify as rareships, so I'm sure we can get you a membership card.