❝ talk to him, strike up a conversation like i do ❞
❝ i can't, jackie! i know nothing about quidditch ❞
❝ well here in lies the problem, dria ❞
━━━━ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒 | dria lockaby had all the booksmarts i...
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❝ YOU'VE LIKED HIM EVER SINCE HE THREW A QUAFFLE AT YOUR FACE IN THIRD YEAR— ❞
(the summary. )
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❝ —AND HONESTLY, I'M PRETTY SURE YOUR FEELINGS FOR HIM ARE BECAUSE YOU'RE STILL CONCUSSED ! ❞
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IT WAS TRUE, JUST AS her friend Jackie had reminded her on multiple occasions, Dria Lockaby was hopelessly smitten with the Quidditch-mad captain of her house team and had been since he gave her a concussion in the autumn of 1989.
She could never quite place her finger on what attracted her to the Gryffindor boy. Maybe it was the passion and comradeship he displayed time and time again on the Quidditch pitch, or the way he would neatly comb his hair only to scruff it up by taking a hand through it seconds later, or was it his voice, that sounded like honey as it dripped with its Scottish lilt?
Okay, maybe it was all those things. But, in reality, the girl had never ever exchanged more than a few words with him, and even if she wanted to, she had convinced herself that the boy wouldn't even notice her as he was seemingly constantly transfixed by his favourite sport. And you see, while she had all the booksmarts in the world, Dria Lockaby knew nothing about the game that Oliver Wood's world revolved around.
