Harry shouldn't have been on the team that year- it should have been me. I understood that he was a great seeker but they didn't even make him try out after first year. Bloody Boy-Who-Lived.

If I couldn't get onto the team with skill- I mean no one would notice anyways, I was just stupid Harry Potter's sidekick- I would get on another way. Oh yes, my plans rarely work but that's only because your bloody savior is an idiot. The only who even has an inkling of my true nature is Dumbledore, but he passes it off as 'jealousy'. Yeah, because I'm a Weasley, and, therefore, light through-and-through. Stupid bloody wankers.

I slipped into the locker rooms after escaping scarboy's hospital bed. From what the rest of the team said Oliver should still be in the showers 'trying to drown himself'.

When I arrived I heard the pelting of water and moved to where it was coming from. Outside the stall was a messy pile of discarded quiddich gear and I could hear angry mumbles and what sounded like fists slamming against the walls.

Pulling back the flimsy curtain I saw that Oliver hadn't even noticed I was here and had his back turned. His forearms were against the wall and his fists were flinched angrily.

I leaned back until I was comfortably reclining against the wall and watching the quiddich captain's admittedly tone body. He wasn't bad looking, I'd admit it, and my plan wasn't going to get called off due to an ugly captain.

After I'd gotten, at least, an eyeful of Oliver's body (he was rather well endowed) he seemed to realize I was there. He turned with a slightly startled slightly confused look. "Weasley… no, you're Harry's friend Ronald." Well I suppose scarface is good for something after all. He narrowed his eyes as I continued to trail my eyes down his muscular chest. "What is it?" The water was beating off of his naked body, giving it an unearthly look, as though the water was hitting a force field a centimeter from his body.

"That was a good game. You didn't let many goals in at all." Oliver gave a bitter laugh.

"The team's great. But we just had to have a seeker that's weak to dementors."

I raised an eyebrow, "Potter is the only reason you've lost. Why don't you just get a reserve seeker?"

"Potter?" Oliver had caught that huh? "Potter's the best seeker since Charley. Anyone else would be worse."

I smirked, "You haven't even had seeker tryouts since he became seeker."

"Oh? And you think you'd be better? Is that it?"

My smirk grew and I advanced towards Oliver, pinning his hands against the wall. The water was pelting through my clothes but I honestly didn't care. "I'm always better than Potter, Wood." My words seemed to give him shivers and I grinned

"What are you doing Weasley!?" Oliver seemed ready to panic so I hushed him quietly and wrapped both of his wrists in one of my hands (luckily they were so thin) and breathed on his neck.

"Calm down Wood. You'll like it, besides, I'd love to speak to you about your-" I gently raised a knee to grind against Oliver's groin, dragging a reluctant intake of breath, "choice in teammates."

"And h-how is this going to convince me?" He asked suspiciously. His face was flushed and I allowed myself a small rush of pride that I could make him look so delectable.

"Stamina is important in quiddich and I'm sure-" I drew my tongue along the skin under his ear and whispered, "he doesn't have as much as I do."

AN: Yay, steamy oneshots. I am actually okay with making this into a story if enough people ask. But I'm behind on updating as it is so i don't know if that's wise. Like my Top!Darkish!Ron? Please tell me if you do :)