A/N: The edited version. I realized that I had uploaded the old chapter one, before I got editing suggestions from a friend. Thanks so much, tarabeara89, for your reviews!!! You have no idea how much they meant to meâ.
Um. Yeah. I don't own any of these characters except for Gwen, Celeste and George. Everybody else belongs to JK Rowling
Ch 1: Misconceptions
The last of a light morning breeze played through Ron's hair. Absentmindedly, he took a hand off the broom to run his fingers across the fiery strands—they were much longer than they had been at the beginning of the summer. Damn, this is the life- light sun, no school- now, at least, since it starts tom-
"Weasley! Look out, damn it!"
It was his slow reflexes that probably saved him from a concussion; he had just begun to turn when the Bludger hit him with full force on the side of the head.
"Bugger, man, that's why you'll never make the team," Oliver Wood shook his head. The former Quidditch captain had long since graduated from Hogwarts, but still returned home occasionally to visit home and—as the case were now, try to help hopeless cases like Ron with their flying. "You'll fly straight in- hey, that actually doesn't look too good. Maybe we should have my mum look at it."
Doesn't look too good? Ron scoffed as he began to lose control of the broom. Yeah, it only feels like I have ten axes in my bloody head. Doesn't look good, indeed.
Oliver caught Ron with all the grace of an experienced flyer, and slowly the two began to land. Groggily, the near-unconscious boy opened his eyes. Oliver was leading him toward the Wood mansion, a place that seemed to get bigger every time he went there. My whole bloody house could probably fit in the entry hall- and then some, he thought, and then winced. Damn, that hurts.
"Mum?" Oliver called, helping Ron lie down on the couch. "Are you home?" Picking up his wand, he whispered "Accio." Lazily, a glass of water drifted into his hand. "Here, man, drink this. Bludgers ain't to nice."
There you go with your optimism again, Ron thought, as his vision began to blur. Oh, hell.
The last thing he heard was Oliver's alarmed shout as he tumbled off the edge of the world.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Ron's mind became a detached, irregular series of noises. Was Oliver trying to wake him up, or had he finally gone mad? Perhaps he was in Saint Mungo's, then, or maybe he was at Hogwarts and summer was just a dream. Maybe Harry was trying to say wake up, you're going to miss Potions. Maybe he was dead and-
Oh, stop your bloody complaining. You know it's just Oliver snapping in your face.
The voice of reason had piped up, and it sounded something awfully like Hermione.
Snap.
Groaning, Ron opened his eyes. He definitely wasn't on the couch—this was much, much wider—and the ceiling of this room was infinitely shorter than that of the den. Hell, the walls were even a different color.
"Hey, beaut, you're awake. You took a bit of a tumble off the couch, so I just got you somewhere you'd be a bit less likely to have a repeat performance."
Ron slowly brought himself into a sitting position. Besides a vague throbbing on the side of his head, he felt much better.
"Hey, Wood, is that your family?" A series of wizard pictures waved at him frantically.
"Yeah. But, that's the boring side of the room. Take a look over at the right." Ron's eyes skipped over immediately to the right side of the room, and his jaw dropped.
"Damn, mate."
The right side of the room was—literally—filled with pictures of girls. Some, Ron realized, were obviously Muggle, as the pictures didn't move. But there was where the differences stopped. They were –every last one of them- hot.
"Wood, do you have an address book of their numbers or summat?" Ron asked, as he surveyed the room. He could sit here staring all day, he realized, as one caught his eye- and held it.
She was the leftmost, and obviously a wizard. In the picture Oliver picked the slender form up and swirled her around. She obviously was very comfortable in Wood's arms, Ron realized, as she tilted her head back and laughed. And- forget the other ones- when it came to committing, Wood had real taste in girls. This was the cream of the crop.
"Wood?"
"Yeah?" Oliver's head turned toward Ron, smiling. Obviously, the male hormones were acing up.
"Who's this one, on the left? I can see why this pictures a bit bigger than the others- I mean, look at her. Those lips- that body, man- beg to be snogged, Wood. I hope you've given alms a time or two, hmm?"
Wood coughed. "The- um- the one on the- very- left?" He asked, pointing.
"Yeah. She's damn fine." Ron smiled, his eye twinkling. Wood rolled his eyes. If this is how he is when he just sees a hot girl, imagine what'll happen when he falls in love. "What's it like snogging her, then?"
"I'veâuhm" Wood blushed. "Well you see, Weasley, that's my cousin. That's why her picture's on the leftâshe's family."
"Oh." Now it was Ron's turn to blush; his skin turning a familiar red-- just a shade lighter than his hair. "Sorry, mate, I- uhm"
"No problem," Oliver laughed. "She's not related to me by blood, anyway. Celeste and George- my aunt and uncle, you've met them- they adopted her a while back."
Ron let out a half-sigh. "Uhm-"Score one for you, Weasley. You've only made an ass of yourself twice in the hour that you've been –conscious- at Wood's house. "How long was I out?"
"Not long. I couldn't really do anything, though. My mum's out shopping with my cousin- incidentally- the one in the portrait."
"Celeste and George?" Ron was confused. He'd definitely remembered meeting them sometime around third year, during the holidays, but didn't they- "But they lived in France then. When did they move?"
"They didn't," Oliver said. "But Gwen did."