Sleeping on the first night back at Hogwarts is one of the most challenging things Charlie had been faced with in her life so far. There was a better chance of her marrying Dumbledore than falling asleep. She had always had insomnia, since she was very young, but never as bad as that first night back at school.

One would think by her fourth year she'd have tackled that issue, but not quite. Charlie could remember back when she was a little first year, laying in her bed, her stomach full, her body warmly showered, and her brain filled with thoughts anticipating the coming seven years at Hogwarts. Her second and third years were the same. And now, tonight. She wished she could be a bit more of a go-with-the-flow kinda girl, but she liked to see things coming. She liked to plan things, think them out.

For some reason, Charlie's brain was full-blown throwing things at her tonight. When she didn't think she could stand to lay in bed for another second, she got up and paced around the room for a little bit. Her roommates shuffled and stirred in their sleep, so she went down to the common room so as not to bother them. There was a sleeping half-disrobed couple laying near the fire-place ever so suspiciously, and Charlie contemplated whether or not she should go back up to my room. It would be awkward to be in the room when the two lovers woke up, just pacing with no purpose, so she made her way back up the stairs to her dormitory. She stopped before the creaky step, and before Charlie knew what she was doing she was somehow out of the portrait hole.

Shit. She had never, ever gone into the halls after hours. She wasn't much of good-girl usually, but some of the teachers give out harsh punishments that she didn't want to have to deal with- alongside all of her schoolwork and Quidditch.

The hallways were eerie at night... all she could hear is something dripping onto the stones. I can't see a thing... She grabbed for her wand to light the way, whispering lumus to herself, when she realized with a start that she had left her wand in her trunk.

Shitshitshitshit.

Right at that moment, She could hear somebody approaching from in front of her, and they were coming fast. Every click of their heel was getting louder and louder, and she nearly screamed as she searched desperately for somewhere to hide. She was surrounded by winding hallways and stone walls. There's one door, and even though it has mildew peaking out at the top, she tried the handle. It won't budge.

Click, click, click. In desperation as the person gets closer, she pushed the door hard with every muscle in her body. It opens, throwing her into the room just a few seconds before she could have gotten caught.

To her surprise, she slams into to something, knocking it over. A lamp goes down with it, leaving the room in darkness.

"Charlie?"

Make that someone. Laying horizontally on the floor, she covered his mouth with her hand and tried to breathe as silently as possible in case the person in the hallway could hear them. His breath is warm against her hand, his lips slightly wet. She shivered a little, for no real reason. When the clicking noise is gone and the person has turned a corner, she let herself breathe again.

Charlie is on top of him, this boy who knows her name. The room is pitch black, and she could barely see an inch in front of her face. She squinted and tried to get a better look at him, moving her face closer to his. She could make out dark hair, warm eyes, and slightly dorky features. They bashed noses when Charlie realized who it was.

"Oliver! I mean... Wood!" She yelped and jumped off of him. He chuckled a little and stands, helping her up.

Charlie's relationship with had been completely professional thus far. She was the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and him of the Gryffindor one. She had never been so close to him before... and alone.

He lifted his wand and repaired the oil lamp he had been holding. The room filled with warm light.

"What are you... what are you doing in here?" Charlie made a vain attempt to fix her hair, then stopped and wondered why she was doing so. It was only Wood, after all.

"I could ask you the same question," Wood picked a notebook up from off the floor, and got down on his knees to search for something else, perhaps a quill. Charlie bent down to help him.

"What are we looking for?"

"A self-inking quill. Brand new."

"Oh, so you were writing something?" She asked, curiously. Oliver recognized the slight mocking in her tone, and hid his blushing face under a desk.

"None of your business." Oliver was usually very charming, and Charlie was more than a little surprised at his shyness. Charlie spotted his quill a few feet away, and grabbed it. She waved the cream quill in front of his face mockingly.

"Looking for something, Wood?" She smirked a little, and his face lit up and he made a grab for the quill. Charlie yanked it away. "Tell me what you were writing, and I'll give it right back."

"No! Just give it back! C'mon, O'Sullivan, don't be like that!"

"Tell me, Wood. It's easy." She grinned at his grimace, ready for him to surrender.

"Fine. I'll get it back of my own accord then." He lunged towards her, trying to pin her down. Charlie pushed back. The two of them were exceptionally fit, both having played Quidditch their whole lives. Oliver grabbed Charlie's left hand, pinning it down, and she pushed her legs on his stomach trying to get him off of her. He reached for her right hand, grabbing the quill and her hand at once.

Suddenly, the two of them went completely still, realizing how close together they were. Their faces were only an inch or two apart. Charlie watched Oliver's eyes dart to her lips quickly, as if asking a question. She reared her chin up a few centimeters, and Wood took it as a signal. Charlie felt herself close her eyes, her lips pressing softly against Wood's. His lips were wonderfully warm and slightly wet. She pressed her tongue lightly against his lips, in anticipation of getting her tongue inside of his mouth. He obliged, parting his lips. Charlie shivered again. Wood felt it, and pulled apart from her for a moment to look at her. She looked at him, too, taking in his freckles and a scar she had never noticed on his right cheek.

She loosened her left hand from his grip and reached it across to feel his scar. He jumped suddenly as she ran her fingers over it, and got off of her, standing quickly.

"I've got to get going..." He mumbled, grabbing his notebook and lamp, and running from the room quickly.

Charlie lay on the floor in the dark, confused about what had just happened. As she stood, she heard something drop to the floor. She felt along the floor, and her hand wrapped around Oliver's self-inking quill.