A/N: I know, I know, I've been a bad girl with my updates. Truth is, I feel like my chapters are getting worse and worse. I don't want to post total crap, so I figure a longer wait is better than nothing at all. I know this chapter ends kind of abruptly, but since it's 5am, I decided to stop typing. I may make the next chapter a "part 2" and that should be comming much sooner since it is already written and just needs to be typed and tweeked.

A special thanks to Heyyodude and The Bold and The Brave for being awesome and constant reviewers. I swear you are the only two people reading this damn thing hahaha. Though I would like to thank all of the people who have and will(right guys) review. It means so much to me-thanks!

Alright, enough rambling- let me know what you think. Reviews, yay! (please and thank you!)

Oliver always knew that the word Quidditch was practically synonymous with the word famous. They went hand in hand. The whole wizarding world enjoyed watching quidditch. It was something that unified the hidden magical communities around the world. If one made it big in quidditch, said person would inevitably end up famous.

Somehow the thought that he might one day be one of those celebrity quidditch players hadn't crossed his mind. All he ever wanted to do was play the game he loved so much. It had been his life's breath for as long as he could recall. It only seemed natural for him to make the sport his profession rather than do something he found boring. Oliver would rather be damned to hell than work day in and day out for someplace like the Ministry of Magic. He had respect for the people who did take that direction, but it wasn't for him. Oliver needed the speed of a broom, the smell of the air and the excitement of the game.

Famous was not something he needed. He had considered it before, just like any other person in the world, but he never needed it. He wasn't entirely sure he even wanted it. It seemed The Daily Prophet had a different idea.


The headline had screamed at him with its bold lettering. It was accompanied by a photo of him swatting the quaffle away from the middle hoop with the back of his broomstick. The success of his maneuver hadn't gone unnoticed by him at the time, and showed in his cocky smirk and quirk of his eyebrows before the photo started to replay.

Oliver hardly thought of himself as a secret weapon. In fact, the only reason he had played against the Kestrals that day was because the teams' Keeper, Aiden McCabe, had been injured during practice the day before the game. McCabe had fallen off his broom when he was struck by a bludger inadvertently sent his way by Aryk McNinch, the teams' beater. Aiden wasn't able to move out of the way fast enough and landed with a loud crunch on the field.

McCabe's injuries weren't too bad, as far as quidditch injuries go. Considering the height he had fallen from, his wounds could and perhaps should have been much worse. Besides some bumps, scrapes and bruises, he suffered from a few broken and cracked ribs, a broken wrist, a twisted knee and a slight concussion. All of these injuries were easy enough to treat, though they would not be fully healed for some time. So Oliver stepped in, taking over keeper duties for the very first time.

It seemed as though Oliver had played quite well that first game. Puddlemere had won in just under three hours and up 250 points. Only a few goals had managed to sneak by the eager Keeper. According to the Prophet, his name was soon to become a household word. Oliver knew his parents were probably the proud owners of multiple copies of that day's Daily Prophet.

Oliver couldn't deny that the article was a confidence boost. He had been slowly drifting out of his somber and emotional mood. The slump of insecurity was finally lifting and he was beginning to feel like his old self again. He threw himself headfirst into all things quidditch. He even resumed devising new tactics, just to make sure he still had the ability.

Puddlemere's main team seemed to accept him with open arms. It had been an easy transition to make from the Reserve team, even if it was only temporary. He knew them all from practice, and everyone was friendly, though now it felt like he belonged.

The team consisted of two women: Ayla Hartwell and Lindsay Cowan, both Chasers. The rest of the team consisted of men: Darrin Tiernay-Beater, Garrett Linton-Chaser, Ian Bigsby-Seeker, and Aryk McNinch-Beater. Oliver was, of course, filling in for Aiden McCabe-Keeper. Aiden was also Captain of the team.

McCabe had been quite pleased with the outcome of the game, and decided to take the rest of the Christmas holiday off to relax and heal properly, leaving Oliver in his place. Puddlemere would only be playing in one more game over the winter months. It was unusual to play a game so soon after Christmas, as it was a time most people would rather spend with their families. However, there had been scheduling conflict of sorts that the Department of Magical Games couldn't seem to make heads or tails of, so they decided to proceed as scheduled.

Puddlemere United would play the Winborne Wasps two days after Christmas. Oliver would once again play Keeper for the entire match. Figuring this would be the perfect match to make good on his promise to Cedric Diggory, Oliver sent out two tickets and an invitation to spend the weekend. Hoops had flown out and was sent back immediately with an excited response of acceptance from Diggory. He had written he would attend the game with his father and that, to his father's dismay, he would be proudly wearing Puddlemere's colors in support.

The brisk air was biting Oliver's cheeks and nose as he squinted, eyeing the Wasps Chasers flying toward him. He waited impatiently as he watched their carefully calculated maneuver. He was eagerly anticipating the throw he would undoubtedly block. Oliver knew this move quite well. He remembered going over it with Katie, Angelina and Alicia in the early morning hours of his fifth year. It involved a lot of tight turns and fake outs, but he knew the chaser on the left would try to make the quaffle go through the hoop on his right.

Here it comes he thought, a smirk spreading across his face. Oliver had placed himself in front of the middle hoop, lingering a bit hoping to fools the Wasps into thinking he didn't know what was coming. He angled his broom, tipping it slightly downwards and waited for the chaser to get close enough to throw.

The Wasps Chaser, a midsize but muscular man, drew his arm back and pitched the ball straight at the right side hoop. Oliver darted down, bashing the maroon ball away with the end of his broom and back into play before soaring back to his former position hovering in front of the middle goal post.

I think that's becoming my trademark move he thought as he laughed out loud.

The booming voice of the commentator echoed through the stadium.

Another brilliant save by Puddlemere's up and comer, Oliver Wood! McCabe had better heal quickly or he'll be out of a job.

And it seems the seekers have caught sight of the snitch!

Oliver shielded his eyes, glancing around for the two Seekers. Puddlemere's Seeker, Ian, reminded Oliver a bit of Harry Potter, as he was a wisp of a man with untidy hair and a slight build. Oliver shuddered involuntarily as he watched Ian race upwards into the sky.

This is where things tended to go poorly for Gryffindor he mused before turning his attention back to the game still being played in front of him. He was grateful for his timing. The opposing chasers were lining up another shot while he had been staring at the seekers. Oliver barely managed to stop the quaffle from zooming into the high corner of the hoop he was guarding.

The commentator's voiced echoed through the crowd once again.

And that's it folks! Bigsby has caught the snitch, Puddlemere wins by 200 points!

The crowd roared with delight, overpowering the moans and catcalls made by the Winborne Wasps fans. Oliver found the noise elating, though rather deafening. Oliver and the rest of the team did a victory lap around the field before shaking hands with the opposing team and heading to the locker rooms.

Oliver sunk onto a bench and released a satisfied sigh as he began pulling off his gear. The smile he wore refused to leave his face, the whoops and hollers of his teammates only causing him to smile wider.

Bloody hell, all this smiling is making my cheeks hurt!

"Oi Wood, great moves out there, mate!" called Darrin, clapping him on the back as he walked past Oliver to another bench.

"Yeah, they're right, McCabe really had better watch his back, eh!" McNinch said with a booming laugh.

"Thanks, but if you two hadn't kept those bludgers off of me and the chasers it wouldn't have been possible." Oliver grinned maniacally.

Lindsay walked back into the locker room from the women's showers, rubbing a towel through her wet dirty blonde hair.

"What wouldn't have been possible?" she inquired.

"They were just congratulating Wood on a good game, and Wood was just being modest about it." Garrett informed.

"Ah" Lindsay replied simply. She sauntered over to Oliver, coming up from behind him and lightly trailed her hand from his shoulder, across his back and ending on his opposite forearm. She left her hand there as she moved in front of him, then gave him a slight squeeze as she sat straddling the bench seat to face him.

"You did play very well Oliver." She smiled as she released his arm, running her fingers through her hair.

Oliver stared at the place her hand had occupied moments ago.

"Err, thanks..." He tilted his head up to look at her, his gaze slowly meeting hers. "You played pretty well yourself."

Lindsay's eyes had a mischievous glint to them as she laughed at his reply.

Lindsay had started to become a bit over friendly and Oliver wasn't entirely sure it was welcome. She had barely spoken a word to him before he had taken over for McCabe. She hadn't been cold by any means, she just had no real reason to speak to him before. It seemed that she started paying him extra attention after that first game he played with the Kestrals. Oliver liked her well enough, and found her to be quite pretty, though he wasn't sure of her intentions. That was all besides the fact that Katie was never too far from his mind, no matter how much he tried to distract himself. No one seemed to compare.

But, Katie didn't seem to want him more than a friend, and Lindsay was practically throwing herself at him. Once could say many things about Oliver Wood, but first and foremost, he was a man. An eighteen-year-old man.

"I hope you'll be joining us later to celebrate our win. It would be great to have you come along." Lindsay said.

"Um, I'd love to Lindsay, but I have other plans. I'm meeting an old friend from school here. In fact he's probably outside waiting right now."

"Aww now that's a shame." Lindsay pushed her lips into a pout and tried to give him puppy dog eyes.

"Next time, I guess."

She sighed dramatically and spoke her next words loudly, hoping the others sharing the locker rooms might convince Oliver to go with them.

"All right Ollie, suit yourself. We'll miss you though, won't we guys?" Oliver cringed slightly when she called him Ollie. It sounded odd coming from a voice that wasn't Katie's. His other close friends occasionally called him Ollie, but Katie rarely called him anything but.

"Oh we'll miss you something terrible, Wood. I may cry." Darrin said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

"McNinch, hold me!" Darrin cried out as he flung himself at Aryk.

"But who will hold me?" wailed McNinch in response. The two beaters fake cried and moan while the rest of the room's occupants laughed at their antics.

"Alright, come off it you two! Leave Wood alone!" Ayla said, giving the boys both light slaps on the arm. She turned her attention to Oliver and said

"Go on, have a good time tonight and we'll catch you next time, yeah?"

Oliver smiled gratefully at Ayla as he stood, heading into the showers to get ready to meet Cedric and his father.