A/N: I'M BACK! i don't know why, but i felt this sudden rush to write this story. yet another kb/ow, i hope you guys enjoy it!
It was a terrible ending to the career of Oliver Wood. As one of Britain's most prized players, it was indeed the lowest of blows to the hearts of all quidditch fans around the country to see their beloved hero fall the most unpleasant fall. Not only was it unpleasant, but quite disturbing as well.
It was jinxed. Outraged screams were heard for miles on as the crowd saw Oliver plummet to what could possibly be his death. It was jinxed. Confunded. Anything, anything but the fault of their Keeper. It was impossible. How could such an excellent flier suddenly fall? Not even while launchinghimself off the broom to catch the quaffle did Oliver Wood literally fall. Always, miraculously, he would end up back onto the hind of the broom. The strange event was that his broom had been toyed. He would usually come up from a dive, quaffle in hand, waving to the crowd.
Therefore the only logical explanation to this event was that his broom had been toyed with. Anything - anything, but the fault of their Keeper had upended the brilliant Oliver Wood.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
White. All around him was white. And not just the white of the peeling paint off your wall. This white was different. It was beyond white. It was white so hot that it looked black. Or yellow. Either one, it made his eyes hurt. Like a fucking demon spat onto his irises and caused his brain to erupt in a shower of mess behind them.
And what the hell is that noise, he though. But as he calmed down and listened carefully, he came to the realization that it wasn't noise. It wasn't noise at all. Instead, it was the most deadliest of quiets he had ever experienced in his lifetime. So silent he could feel the ringing in his ears. His ear drums would definitely fall off in a matter of seconds.
But was that even possible?
Groggy, he thought. And hungry. Super hungry. Hippogriff-munching, skrewt-chewing hungry.
Where the hell was he anyway? He wandered ever more into the unending vastnass. Usually, wandering would lead you to a final destination. In this case, there was no destination as the entirety of the place was hot white. Couldn't even get anything to chew on.
But in the distace, he spotted something square. Closer, he discovered it was cube-like. And as he walked een closer, he saw a canopy bed.
Not food. But sleep is good, still... Right?
He reached the bed. He sat on it, and bent down to take off his shoes. He had no shoes. Holy shit, where the heck was he?
Only when he looked down he was stark naked.
Now folks, Oliver Wood was a talented man. He was a charismatic man. He was a young man, and a particularly handsome man. He was gifted in quidditch, the wizarding sport. He could decipher runes quicker than the average witch or wizard. He was also very well gifted in his southern regions. And he also knew how to use his precious gems; he had proof of that.
So why was it that when he saw that he was naked, he felt extremely embarassed? Nobody was around him, that was for sure. He was completely naked and completely alone, and still he felt the desire to be quickly covered in something. Even a fucking tea cosy would do.
"Perhaps you could try the bed sheets, you fucking idiot."
The voice jeepered him beyond belief. He heard himself squeal like a six year old lass, and turned a deeper shade of red.
But more than anything, he was jeepered not by embarassment, but by sheer fear at the moment. Who was that? Why would they label him as a fucking idiot without even meeting him? What the hell is this!
"The sheets, captain. The damn sheets. Cover yourself with them before you injure yourself from all that prancing!"
It was then he realized that he was indeed prancing. Trying to hide his own figure from the creepy voice. He suddenly felt like he was watched. Actually, he was sure he was being watched. How else would a voice have come to him and suggested the sheets? Oh yeah, the sheets!
He wrapped himself until he deemed himself as fairly decent. If he could be decent, being rolled in silk sheets. The cooling, soft texture of the sheets did nothing for his shyness and embarassment by feeling good on his penis, either. It was a nice feeling. But just a feeling that should be saved for later. When alone.
"Glad to welcome you to heaven, mate," the voice said, and Oliver Wood felt an unmistakeable slap on the back. This time, he didn't care who heard it, but he shrieked like his mother.
He turned to his right, where the slap came from. No one was there. He looked to his left. Once again, nobody appeared. It was spooky, he was cold, scared, and worst of all, he felt a fucking boner creeping up on him from the stupid silk sheets.
"Need some private time there for some yanking, sir?"
This time, Oliver Wood looked up quickly. He had pretty good reflexes. But it wasn't necessary to almost snap his neck for a glance at the person grinning in front of him. Grinning a shit-eating grin.
The figure went from transluscent to semi-transparent. He was tall, as tall as himself. And it was then that Oliver Wood realized that this was the face of a young man he hadn't spoken to in quite some years. Very many long years. Hadn't seen, and hadn't spoken to, since he was 17. It was the face of a missing pair of shoes, except this one he knew for sure was dead. Because he mourned him too.
"F-f-f-Fred!" Oliver Wood exclaimed, taken aback, and stumbling backwards too. Conveniently on the bed. "Holy mother of mothers, is that really you?"
He could see the figure in front of him roll his eyes pointedly. "Of course you dimwit. Who else would it be?"
Is he seriously asking me this question, Oliver though. He didn't want to answer. Didn't want to feel bad by saying he never expected to see Fred Weasley, because he was dead.
"Of course I'm dead," Fred said, once more rolling his eyes. "I've been dead for twelve human years at present. And so are you, apparently."
Now that was a joke.
"I'm not joking. I wouldn't joke about dying. Other things I would, yes, but definitely not dying."
From the bed, Oliver Wood peered up at the ghost of Fred Weasley.
And then he felt a slap to his right cheek. "I'm not a fucking ghost! If I was, then we wouldn't be here! God, I'm not dumb enough to stay behind. I'd much rather enjoy the view from up here!"
Rubbing his cheek with confusion, Oliver asked, "Well, if you aren't a ghost, then what exactly are you, dare I ask?" And can he really read my mind?
"Sure can," replied Fred, smirking. "I can read exactly what's going on in your mind right now. You think I've been creeping you, you're self conscious about your body, which you shouldn't be since you're like an Adonis if you don't mind me saying - don't read too deeply into that comment please - and you don't know what to do about your throbbing erection."
Ignoring the last comment completely, Oliver asked again, "So what are you?"
He heard Fred make an irritated clicking noise. "Obviously, I'm an angel. What else would I be?"
The devil's advocate, perhaps.
"I heard that," Fred said poisonously, but didn't seem too phased. "I'm an angel sent from heaven."
"To guide me or something?" Oliver questioned. It didn't make sense. Fred was wearing a perfectly decent robe while he was still wrapped half assed in silk sheets. Or in what he thought were silk sheets at least.
"Yea, to guide you. In a way." Fred said this thoughtfully, and at once Oliver Wood knew that the ghost of Fred Weasley had a purpose. He didn't know what this purpose was. But if he remembered correctly, Fred Weasley didn't have good ideas much in school.
"I'm a guide for you, Oliver Wood. Sort of like a guardian angel, y'know?"
"No, not really," Oliver answered, looking suspiciously at the ghost.
"Okay well, not a guardian angel. But something like it."
"Guiding and guarding me from what?"
"Hell."
Hell. There was a heaven, and now there was a hell. And apparently, he was on his way to Hades. So what brings him to heaven?
"Not in heaven," said a rather thick voice. He looked beside him to see the ghost consuming an edible object. "And for fuck's sake, stop referring to me as a ghost, I'm an angel! Damnit, Wood!" The ghost - angel - took a break to sip a cup which appeared out of nowhere. "Not heaven," he said again, "but limbo. Ever heard of limbo, smartass?"
"Yes," Oliver replied, but still confused. Limbo?
"Yes, limbo! Should you ascend, or should you descend? You were actually suppossed to descend. I vouched for you."
Oliver Wood felt touched. Of all people to vouch for him in heaven, least of all would he ever expect Fred Weasley.
"Don't get all warm and fuzzy. I did it because I knew that despite your recent misdeeds, you deserved a second chance. Or a second wind."
"Second wind?"
"Yeah. Second wind. It's like a second chance, except with a second wind, you get to - "
"Have my own say?" Oliver Wood interrupted. Fred glared at him. He now wished he hadn't.
"You get the chance to relive your life. From where it stopped, of course. As in, the moment your face splattered on the ground and shattered into a million pieces. You'll live from there and then - "
"I fell off the fucking broom?" Oliver asked, outraged.
" - we'll see how you're doing and if you're being good you'll go to heaven. If not, you'll go to hell. Either way, you'll be going somewhere. Cool?"
"How did I die?" Oliver demanded, seeimingly to have not heard the last bit of Fred's explanation.
Fred gave him a quizzical look. "You really want to know?"
"Of course, it's my own death, I want to have a share in it!"
Fred raised an eyebrow, and for a few minutes remained where he was, staring at Oliver. Oliver Wood, though very used to being in the spotlight, could not stand to have the ghost -
"Angel!" Fred said through gritted teeth.
- angel, couldn't stand the angel looking at him. It was weird.
"Here, I'll show you."
And immediately, a pool emerged from the white. Though, pools were suppossed to be on the ground, this pool spread right in front of them, with the scene of a quidditch game. Oliver Wood recognized the scene; Puddlemere United against the Chudley Cannons for the spot in the final four.
He was confident during that game. Some would argue too confident, not only for that game, but for the most recent years of his past life. But he was confident. The Chudley Cannons basically sucked. They wouldn't stand a chance.
That was when the view zoomed into one of the Cannons beaters, Henry White. He watched as Henry, pulling back his arm, glaring at Oliver in the pool, and swinging that bat with immense hatred. And he saw himself in the pool, oblivious to his soon-to-be deadly injury. And as the bludger collided with the back of skull, even the present Oliver Wood looked highly disgusted.
"Did you see your eyeballs pop out of their sockets?" Fred asked, evidently excited by the events. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Couldn't have performed better myself, speaking as an amazing past beater."
Oliver was outraged. "So that's how I bit the dust?" He looked derranged. Like a mad man. "I got hit by a bloody bludger? Nobody dies - "
"On the contrary," Fred started, but was cut off.
"Nobody fucking dies from a bludger! I'm weak! When was I so weak? And now in death, I'm still stuck in a fucking state of limbo?" He gave Fred an incredulous look, which was answered by a nod.
"The main concern is to get you out of limbo, not to discuss your death. I don't
care for it," Fred said off handedly. "So I'm here to help."
Oliver Wood was confused. How on earth -
"You're not on earth," said Fred.
- would a ghost -
"Or for Merlin's sake, I told you, I'm an angel! Geez!"
- help him without a physical form? How is this even real?
"I'll tell the big guy to descend you into hell if you want me to."
He was defeated. For the first time - or should he say, second time seeing as he was dead? - that he felt completely defeated. "How are you goling to help me, Fred?"
He heard a tsk sound. "I already told you I'm your guardian angel. The first step is acceptance!"
"Okay, and how is that going to get me out of limbo? And what did you mean by a second shot at life?"
"It means what it means. You get another chance to live."
"Like reincarnation?"
"Please. You'll return to your life and make amends."
Amends. Amends for what?
"For being a pompous jackass to your loved ones, obviously," Fred said, once more rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing.
"So by living life, how would you help if I'm not going to be here?"
"You know, Wood, my patience for you is seriously hanging on a thread. I told you, I'm your guardian angel!"
"And what does that entail, dare I ask?"
"Visitations."
"What the hell does that mean?" Oliver asked, unsure. If being visited by Fred Weasley was as irritating as it was now, he doubted it would be a picnic otherwise.
"Visitations. I'll visit you. Whenever you need me, just say my name. Whenever I feel like visting, I'll appear. Don't worry, nobody can see me, so if you start talking to me, I won't be there. People might think you're crazy if I make a physical appearance to them as well."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to have others see you so they don't think I'm an idiot?"
"That is not my concern."
Oliver Wood wrinkled his brow. "I thought I was your concern!"
"Yeah, but not really. Anyway, I'm giving you your first and only assignment."
First and only? He said amends, Oliver thought. Amends, not amend.
"Just stop thinking and listen, will you?" Fred demanded, clearly annoyed now. "Your assignment after you're going back is to say you're sorry to your most beloved and gain her forgiveness, as well as her friendship."
"Who? - " he began asking, but Fred ignored him.
"You'll be judged on how well you do, and to what degree your aplogy and friendship takes."
It shouldnt' be too hard. Saying sorry was never a big deal -
"Yeah, don't forget, you're not exactly popular you know," Fred said all knowingly.
Fred was crazy. Everybody loved him. He wasn't a quidditch hero without a reason.
"Yeah, people like you as a player. Not as an individual."
Girls did -
"That's not your target. Your target is someone else."
"But you said the person was a her. Meaning she's a girl. Girls like me."
Fred made a noise of disbelief. "Just you wait til I show you who she is."
And once more, another pool came into view. Unlike the first one, this started off blurry. "Let's see if you remember her, hmm?" Fred suggested.
The picture grew slightly clearer. Rather than fuzz, he could now make out a head, neck, shoulders, and a bit of breast. Or what looked like breasts. She had dark hair. Many girls did. But this one had hair as dark as a raven. Skin was very peachy. The vision became clearer. Dark eyes which almost turned black in certain lights. A small nose and a full mouth. She looked really appealing; even her breasts were starting to form - fucking erection!
And then the picture cleared. And Fred was right. She was not just any girl. It took him a while to remember the exact details, but after he remembered, he sincerely wished he didn't. She was going to hate him, no doubt. If he were her, he would hate himself too. But everything was done for the greater good.
Still. Of all people to apologize to and gain confidences again, did it really have to be her? He'd rather go to hell -
"Hey, if you wanted to go to hell, you could've jsut said so," Fred said, shrugging his shoulders.
"No I take it back!" exclaimed Oliver quickly. "Do I have to talk to her?"
"No. You could go to hell though."
"Are you serious?"
"As serious as death could be."
He didn't want to. He was scared. Why shouldn't he be? A woman scorned was never a happy sight.
"Is it just this one task?" Oliver asked, doubtfully.
Fred smiled toothily at him. "All you have to do is gain her friendship back. She was, according to your records, the one you hurt the most!"
He bit his tongue. Should he? Shouldn't he? "Fine," he replied with gritted teeth. "Fine. But what happens after?"
"We, you'll be judged, and if you do good, you'll go to heaven," he said, with the tone of simplicity.
"And if I do horribly?"
At this, Fred looked doutful and stroked his chin. "Well, there's the chance they might not be satisfied and will ask you to do it again. Or most likely, you'll go down."
But before Oliver could contemplate it, he felt Fred's voice echo, and saw that the figure was slowly diminshed into nothingness.
"Good luck, Wood! I'm short on time, I promised my great grandfather a visit! If you need anything, just call!"
Or he'll just come, Oliver thought grudgingly, as he felt himself diminishing as well, but quickly into nothing ness -
He felt his body slam not once, but twice. And then he could feel no more.
A/N: yes, i'm back. i know i know. i said i most likely wouldn't be. but after re-reading all the 7 harry potters, i just wanted to make a story. HOWEVER - no promises it'll be finished, but it should be, by the end of this summer **hopefully**!!!!
this is yet another oliver/katie story. i seem to have a liking for this pairing. not too popular, but popular enough. i don't expect this story will garner as many readers as the first story i published regarding them, but hopefully i'll be somewhat successful and still get some reviews. i assume my writing's all rocky at the moment.
the first chapter is done in third person. just so you know for the future chapters, it'll be done in oliver's p.o.v. a switch from katie. time to see what boys think about.
rated a bit more heavily due to some more swearing and probably sexual content. not r-rated or anything, but be warned! hahahaahhaha.
enjoy, and please please please REVIEW!!!
