Beat Them Back (A Harry Potter Fan Fiction)

The Pros and Cons of Streaking

As if today couldn't get any worse, my team had to go and use all of the hot water in our change room. I, being a fair captain, thought it would be nice to let my players have a go in the showers first, given our glorious win (by technicality). So I waited, brushing out my unruly curls out and trying to rid them off all of the tangles that the horrendous weather had caused. When the last of them had left, I entered the showers only to be greeted with icy water, at such a fridge temperature that it made my blood run colder than it already was.

Stupid bloody sods, they weren't even considerate enough to leave me some lukewarm water. I was planning on visiting Potter in the Hospital Wing before I went off to bed, but I guess the world just wouldn't have it today.

There was no way that I was going up to the castle looking like this. Whether I liked it or not, I would just have to use the Gryffindor change rooms, if they weren't locked up already. Since their team wasn't comprised of an entire band of idiots, I could only pray that they hadn't used up all of their hot water as well.

With a huff, I pulled my cloak tighter around me, the chill from the rain permanently steeped into my bones. I opened the door and ran across the pitch with difficulty, the rain significantly lighter than before but my feet getting stuck in the mud. My shoes squelched as I pulled them from the muck.

If weather was a person, I would have kicked it in the bollocks.

Thank Merlin, the door to the change room was unlocked. I wrenched the door open and shut it promptly behind me with a slam. The first thing I noticed once inside was the fact that it was still filled with steam, and the sound of a faucet running was audible from somewhere in the room.

"Who's there?" my voice was echoed by that particular Scottish brogue I loathed. "What in Merlin's name are you still doing in here, Wood?"

"I could ask you the same question, McCormack! You're the one in our room." I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Those stupid mingers that I call teammates used all the hot water in our change room. So, I've come to use yours" I said, quickly peeling the damp cloaks off of my body and proceeding towards the row of showers.

"Did it never occur to you that someone would be using it still?" I laughed in response, rolling my eyes. The showers were separated by plastic stalls, row on row, and with plastic shower curtains in the front. I walked down the tiny passageway, looking under the curtains for a pair of large feet.

I stepped into the shower beside it and turned on the tap. "No, but then again, it's no surprise that it would be you to stay in here for longer than necessary. Trying to pretty yourself up, no doubt." I tilted my head up to meet the water, the tendrils of steam adding to the air and clouding the room even more.

"Right, because I'm just a big egotist who doesn't have any feelings, right?" he said dryly, and I watched as soap lather pooled on the floor in his shower and disappeared into the drain.

Normally, this would have shut me up. But with all of the anger I had about the game and relaxing effect of the hot water, the words just tumbled out of my mouth. "Sounds about right" I agreed, attacking my scalp with shampoo.

We sunk into silence and I continued to scrub my body raw. The sound of his shower stopped and his feet made wet, slapping noises as he crossed the room. Through the crack in the stall I watched him walk by, a towel wrapped tightly around his torso.

"I'm glad you got out" I said, trying to kill the silence. "I thought you were trying to drown yourself in there." I heard his deep voice cough out a laugh. The last of the bubbles were washed away from my body, my muscles successfully unknotted, and I turned off the tap. Absentmindedly, I reached for the curtain, about to pull it open, when I realized my lack of coverage. Oliver Wood was on the other side of this curtain, and I, in all of my rage, had forgotten a bloody towel.