Our Entangled Lives // Oliver Wood

Chapter Twenty Nine : As The Wind Gets Thicker

TW: Flint

Y/n's POV:

There were many reasons I enjoyed Quidditch.

The feeling of the wind brushing by my cheek like a gentle person's graze, the sound of the sky as I whizzed by on my broom - almost as if it was whispering to me, the ablazed sun shining it's golden streams of light past the enclosed branches of trees...

But mainly, and most of all, for it's sense of freedom.

As most of my friends, both old and new, had grown to realise - I wasn't given many the same freedom they received growing up. With an overbearing mother and a standing-by-her-side father, there was little room for me to explore and escape.

So when I first layed my hands on a broom, ridden it even, life felt different. For the first time in forever, I felt the invisible force of life lift itself from my chest, muscles easing into motion.

However, that feeling was much unlike today.

Violently throwing the blunger across the pitch, it whisked just past the hoop, falling to its demise somehow effortlessly on to the grass. Slowing my pace as I further reached the ground, I picked up the same blunger and buried it in the crook of my elbow.

I didn't care about the grass and mud stains it left anymore, my Quidditch uniform was always due for a wash anyhow.

Taking a firmer grip on my broom, I held the blunger in the same position as before, rising up in to the sky with a steady speed.

A good night's sleep was doing me more wonders than those nights of practice ever did. I felt as if I got a hold of my world again, and it was invigorating.

However, and much despite this, it had come to the time I was dreading, and possibly - but nowhere near as much - as the rest of my team.

The long awaited Quidditch match of Hufflepuff Vs Slytherin.

I hadn't run in to Flint since I last saw him with Oliver, the relief seeping away after just a few weeks. After all, he was the one to promise me that I wouldn't make it after the game.

So far, I'd only confided in Lynn and the the boys about this. Oliver knew about it to, of course, but I hadn't exactly been seeking him to talk about it. None of my teammates knew, including Cedric of Andrew. I didn't want any of them to be more concerned about the game than they already where. High stakes did not bode well with either of them.

So did what I normally did in these situations, let it out in Quidditch.

In much change to my normal techniques, my eyes became fixated on my goal as slowly drew back the blunger, twisting my arm to an unforeseen angle. Feeling the grip of the ball, the muscles in my arm clamping together, my mind drew silent and my body still as a leaf, ever waiting for the throw that was about to come.

But just as I drew my arm back to its furthest reach, eyelids drawing closer together with target sharp in view, a distant cry took me straight out.

I whizzed my head down so fast I almost popped a vein, flying at rapid speed to the bottom of the pitch. Only then to see the boys in the very middle of it, Fred on his side in what was a clearly - a very overdramatic cry of pain, and Lee by him pretending to be of comfort. But one could tell even he was struggling to stifle his laughter.

Only a meter away from the ground by then, I hopped of my broom and landed directly in to the grass, a very confused and yet - slightly amused look etched in my expression.

"Ahh, Y/n, my lord and saviour-" Fred began in his usual fashion, "you must be of help! I simply could not walk past these treacherous fields to reach you."