Oliver Kent and Wally Grant were in the Gryffindor quidditch locker room. Wally's was pressed hard back against the wall next to the door of the showers, Oliver's hands in his hair, massaging his scalp as his tongue did the same to the inside of Wally's mouth. Wally could barely breathe and he turned his head, breaking the kiss even as Oliver's fingers tightened in the strands of hair. Wally's arms hung lazily over Oliver's shoulders. 

"Shit, Ollie," he murmured, "It's like seventh year in here all over again."

Oliver laughed. "If we had time I'd suggest a shower --"

Wally's face reddened and he said, "That pour fourth year, though."

"I know," Oliver said, shaking his head. "Poor lad. Wonder what he's up to now?"

"Dunno," Wally said. "I reckon after seeing you like that he's probably more camp than a row of tents, though, and utterly ruined with high expectations that cannot ever be met by another being."

Oliver snorted, "Godric Gryffindor you're full of it."

Wally's eyes sparkled, "Says the man who invited me to our old school grounds just to make out in the locker room."

"If only that were the only reason I wanted you to come today," Oliver said, and his hands slid out of Wally's hair slowly. He glanced at his watch as he spoke, "You know I really just didn't want to be alone - not today, of all days. I'm honestly foolish for having agreed to come here today. Talk about a place feeling haunted."

"You could've scheduled these kids any time," Wally said.

"I know. I don't know. It felt... right... when I was doing it to schedule it for today, for the anniversary, since it's in his honor I'm doing it anyway." Oliver shrugged.

"Yeah, I get it," Wally said. "I do and I think it's beautiful, you know that, but you really know how to drive a dagger into your own heart, don't you?"

"I'm well practiced at it by this point," Oliver joked darkly.

Wally shook his head.

"They should be here in about a half hour," Oliver said, grinning, then said, "Maybe that is long enough after all for the showers...?"

Wally grinned back and was just about to answer when the door of the locker room banged open and a very large man in training gear stepped inside, and Oliver was about to ask him who he was and just what he was doing in the school locker rooms when out from behind the man stepped Viktor Krum, obviously fresh from a training session. The large man stopped dead in his tracks and Viktor looked up, his eyes taking in the scene of the two men before him before finally meeting Oliver's eyes.

"Mr. Kent?" Viktor said, surprised. "Is it you?" He blinked in surprise, and then a hopeful expression came upon his face, as he wiped away a sheen of sweat from his forehead. "Has my father hired you on again?"

Oliver's jaw had dropped at the sight of Krum. He shook the shock off and said, "I - I - no, he hasn't."

"Then what is it you are doing?" Viktor's eyes went to Wally and his eyes lit up with recognition - he'd seen Wally in the photographs on Oliver's walls, too, and he looked back to Oliver with question in his eyes.

"Does the headmaster know you're using the school grounds as a rendezvous location?" gruffed the large man behind Viktor, glowering with judgment clear in his eyes.

"Rendezvous location!" Wally laughed.

Oliver's mouth went very dry and he was about to answer when Wally continued:

"Yes Dumbledore knows! Of course he does." Wally looked at Oliver. "He does, doesn't it?" Oliver nodded. "Of course he does!" Wally repeated. Then he added, "Oliver's here to meet with one of the boys from Hogwarts about training him for quidditch - and possibly for the Tourney if he's named a champion."

Viktor looked like he'd been slapped across the face, "What? Is this true, Mr. Kent?"

"Yeah," Oliver said a bit shakily. "Possibly. And for the record we're not using this as a rendezvous location, we're just - waiting - for our - my -er- clients to arrive for our meeting."

"You appear to do more than wait," grumbled the large man behind Krum. "And we have booked this pitch for training for the next hour more, so you will have need of meeting your client elsewhere."

"Two hours? Haven't you just finished?" Oliver looked at Viktor who still looked flushed and had looked over at the trainer with the said surprised expression - clearly Viktor had thought they were done, too. "Well," Oliver said, "Dumbledore must've doubled the booking then by mistake. We've been granted it for the next hour as well."

"Is it not large enough for two trainers?" Wally asked. "You lot go down one end of the pitch and we'll take the other. Simple as that."

"How could you do this?" Viktor cut over Wally's question, eyes boring into Oliver. "How could you agree to train with another champion?"

Oliver looked at Viktor. "He's not a champion yet, he's a kid that wants to play quidditch and it apparently very good at it. And if he becomes champion, he'll need help to survive it. Just like you've got." Oliver waved a palm at the two-ton brute before him.

But Viktor didn't look appeased. He scowled all the more, "To do this, to train another, is to work against me." 

"Viktor, I'm really very sorry, I am, but --"

The door of the locker rooms opened then and they all looked up as a young man stuck his head in and said, "Oi, hullo. I heard voices and --" he paused, staring at Oliver Kent and Viktor Krum both in the same room and looked back over his shoulder, "Holy shit, Ced, it's both of them."

The door pushed opened further and there stood two boys in Chudley Cannons jumpers in the doorway. Cedric's eyes were wide and Herbert was practically shaking as he looked over the pair of famous quidditch players.

"I told you it wasn't a prank," one boy hissed to the other.

"Can we help you?" Wally asked.

"I'm Herbert Fleet," Herbert said and pointed at his dumbfounded friend, "This is Cedric Diggory."

"Oh! It's you!" Wally said and he glanced at Krum, his trainer, and Oliver, then said, "Excellent. Come along out this way and Mr. Kent will join us in just a moment - I see you've got Cannons number jerseys - you've been fans long?" And he ushered the pair out of the locker room and out onto the grass of the pitch.

Oliver turned back to look at Viktor and his trainer as soon as the door closed behind Wally and the boys. "Viktor," he said carefully, "I don't know what happened, I don't know why your father sacked me, but he did. I was very upset, and honestly very -" he paused and looked at the trainer, then said, "I was worried about you."

"Not to worried to keep yourself from replacing me first chance you got."

"I didn't replace you."

"With him."

"I haven't agreed to training Cedric yet," Oliver said, "And if it really bothers you so much --"

"It does not bother Viktor," interrupted the trainer roughly. "Viktor expresses merely surprise. Viktor will be, as his name suggests, the victor of the tournament and you will see that your training is worthless. This is why Mr. Krum has done away with you. You are expendable and Viktor shall see vast improvement. We will squash your Cedric. Like little bug."

Oliver blinked in surprise at this outburst.

"Come, Viktor. We will train twice as hard and show this piss-on how superior you are to this Cedric."

Viktor stared at Oliver, eyes sad, but the trainer took him by the shoulders and turned him, pushing him forward toward the door, only pausing long enough for Viktor to accio a towel from the shelf of them, which he hung about his shoulders and used to wipe his face of the dried-on sweat from the first training session.

Oliver took a moment before going out onto the pitch to meet with Cedric and Herbert, guilt weighing on him. He didn't dare to glance down the pitch, where Viktor and his trainer had slouched off to work. Herbert and Cedric were watching Viktor avidly, however. Wally walked over to meet Oliver halfway from the locker rooms to where the two boys stood at the base of the rings. "You alright?"

Oliver grunted a response.

"Talk later?" Wally asked, using his fingers to sign the words.

Oliver signed them back.

Wally nodded.

Cedric jabbed Herbert with an elbow when he looked and saw Oliver coming toward them and both of them forgot all about watching Viktor Krum. Krum was the current phenomenon, sure - but Oliver Kent was a legend.

"Hey boys," Oliver said, smiling as he greeted them.

"Mr. Kent, sir, hello," Herbert said, leaping forward and shaking Oliver's hand excitedly. "I was the one who wrote you. This is - he's Cedric. He's very good at -- everything."

Cedric flushed, "That's a gross exaggeration." He stared in awe as Oliver Kent's hand closed 'round his own and they shook and all he could think about was how incredible it was to have this opportunity... and how incredibly glad his Dad wasn't there because as much of an exaggeration as Herbert Fleet had just given, Amos Diggory would have done a quadruple helping of it. Cedric swallowed back his nervousness and said, "I'm so very honored to meet you, sir. I've been a fan since I was just a kid... I can't believe I actually get to meet you."

Wally was grinning, watching the interaction.

"Honors all mine, really," Oliver said, smiling, "And I'm sure Herbert's assessment is less of an exaggeration than you think. Your friend believes in you and that's the greatest gift a man could ask for." He gestured at Wally, "This is my - friend. Walter Grant."

Both boys knew who Wally was without the introduction. Although the news of their reunion at the World Cup had been managed and hushed, Wally's face was still recognizable from the days before they'd broken up and Cedric had read books about Oliver's life and seen pictures of the best friends in those. 

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Grant," Cedric said, shaking Wally's hand. 

"Wally once wrote a very similar letter to my first trainer," Oliver explained, "Which was why Herbert's letter caught my eye. I felt as though it were a bit of fate - history repeating itself." He paused then, "So how long have you been playing quidditch, Cedric?"

"All my life," Cedric answered. "My Dad's a big fan of the sport and he taught me young. I used to play with a toy broomstick and he'd throw the ball to me across our kitchen and I'd throw the ball into the sink - the sink was our goal rings."

Oliver laughed, "That's brilliant. I like your jumper."

"We've been Cannons fans so long as I can remember," Cedric said quickly. "Dad got me this jumper when we went to see you play a few years ago. You were brilliant. The way you fly -- and your skills as a seeker..."

"He's our Captain. Hufflepuff's, that is," Herbert spoke up. "You were Captain once, yeah? Of Gryffindor?"

"I was," Oliver nodded, "It's a lot of pressure, being Captain."

Cedric nodded.

"What position do you play?" Oliver asked.

"I'm a seeker - like you."

"Best position, that is," Oliver said.

"Yeah," Cedric smiled, "There's more to it than most think there is, yeah? Most people call me a glorified spectator, but there's a lot more to it..."

"Loads more!" Oliver agreed. He looked up at the sky, which was a bit cloudy, but still blue-ish at least and the sun's rays cut through the clouds now and then. It had potential to rain later on, but for the moment there was just a fair amount of wind blowing so that the banners on the stands waved in the breeze. "Well, it's a great day for flying. Let's see what you can do, huh?"

Cedric flushed and nodded and in a fluid motion he held out his hand, summoned his broomstick from where he and Herbert had left them leaning against the lower box, jumping onto the stick and shooting into the air, rising up, up, up in meteoric fashion. His palms were a bit sweaty as he gripped the broomstick and he felt his heart pounding nervously in his chest as he rose up into the sky. 

"You can do this, Cedric, you can do it. Just like any other warm-up. Oliver Kent is just watching is all. No big deal." Except it really was a big deal. It was the biggest deal of his entire life.

He leveled off about height with the upper boxes and did a couple of quick laps 'round the pitch to warm up and get the feel of the wind direction and such, passing over Krum and his trainer. Krum's trainer had him doing some sort of agility style running-in-place, which had Krum lifting his knees high as the trainer shot spells toward his feet and shins. It looked horrid.

Cedric broke out of the laps and started doing some of his best stunt flying - things he only did when he was feeling particularly like showing off. Loop-de-loops and dives, tight corner turns and ninety degree angles and the like. He heard Herbert let out a whoop several times but didn't dare to look down to see what Oliver Kent was doing as he performed. He hoped Kent was impressed, he felt so much pressure to do a great job, it was building up inside of his chest and he bit his lip as he crashed down in a version of the Wronski Feint that he'd seen Viktor Krum do at the World Cup, wondering if Kent would recognize it.

When he pulled out of the feint and regained his altitude and balance, he hovered a moment, grinning, letting his equilibrium settle and he suddenly heard a voice behind him. "You pulled up too soon." 

He turned about on his broomstick to see Krum hovering behind him. Krum wore tinted goggles so that Cedric couldn't see his eyes, but he could still feel Krum glaring at him. "A good flier with skill could get much closer to the ground than what you've just down. You were too scared to go all the way to the ground."

Cedric wasn't sure how to answer. He thought he'd been alright at the feint - especially considering that had been one of the first ever times he'd had a go at it. Sure, he'd pulled up sooner than Krum had done at the Cup, but he wasn't trained yet - he had stuff to learn. THe fact he'd done it at all should count for something, oughtn't it? 

"I'll learn," Cedric offered, smiling, "Just as you did. From the best. Yeah?"

Krum reached up and pulled the goggles from his eyes, resting them against his forehead and stared at Cedric Diggory for a long moment. "We are not friends, you and I. You have stolen my trainer."

Cedric blinked in surprise, "Stolen your trainer?"

"Yes," Viktor Krum said, "And I won't let you steal my trophy, too."

"Steal your --" 

"I will beat you at the Triwizard Tournament if you are picked for Champion, Cedric Diggory. I will beat any Champion Hogwarts puts forth. But you, if you are picked, I will beat you for not just the honor of my school, but because you have done this injustice to me." 

"I didn't steal him -- you sacked him!" Cedric answered, "It's been all over the papers for weeks!"

Krum glared at Cedric, then lowered his dark tinted goggles and then, with his jaw set in bitterness, he dropped into a perfect, daring version of the Wronski Feight which had him diving so low that his boots skimmed the grass before he pulled back out and shot twice as high into the sky as where Cedric still hovered, utterly flabbergasted by the accusations and the fierce determination that had echoed in Krum's words.

It was the first time - though certainly not the last time - that Cedric Diggory wondered whether putting his name into the Goblet of Fire had been the biggest mistake he'd ever made.