Hey everybody, I'm still trying to get my love of the Potterverse back after completely wiping myself out with Photograph. Then this idea bludgeoned me over the head with a bedpan.

It was inspired by a one-shot that I read a while ago, but I can't frakking remember who the author was or what the title is! Basically: Colin Creevey, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and Pansy Parkinson share a flat. If anyone comes across it, please let me know.

Disclaimer: I own nothing under copyright.


Just like every other morning, Oliver Wood woke up feeling like a zombie. In his usual routine he slipped on a pair of pajama pants and ambled down the hall to turn on the coffee maker.

The white counter top appliance would have looked huge to most people, holding sixteen cups. For Oliver and his three roommates, it was just enough to keep them from falling back asleep. To say that they were coffee addicts would be the understatement of the century.

Right as he poured the first cup, a door slammed open. 'Right on time,' Oliver thought wryly, passing the mug to a barely-conscious Alicia Spinnett.

With a grunt of thanks, she leaned on the counter and finished the bitter drink in a few deep gulps. As a matter of routine she handed it back to Oliver, who paused in making his own cup to refill and return it. The whole process was silent.

Then Katie Bell was upon them, hip-bumping Oliver out of the way. Of the four, she was the most competitive over the wonderful caffeinated heaven that was the coffee pot. Of course, the other two in the kitchen let it be: to get between Katie and her morning coffee was suicide.

At the moment, Oliver was too busy spooning heaping piles of sugar into his cup to care very much about anything else. There was a brief fight over the creamer (which Oliver won for once), but afterward they were docile as lambs. Very, very sleepy lambs.

The dessert-like taste of his coffee opened up Oliver's senses to the morning. As always, one of his first brainwaves was dedicated to re-realizing why everyone thought he was gay.

The thought was personified by none other than Angelina Johnson, who hadn't even put on a robe before she shambled out of her room. Nope, she was wearing only a pair of pale pink panties as she reached for the coffee pot. That's right: only panties.

Wordlessly, Oliver pushed an already-filled mug into Angelina's hand. Then all his focus was once again bestowed upon his coffee.

It wasn't that Angelina was ugly, by any stretch of the imagination. She had always been a lovely girl, and playing quidditch for a living served to keep her in excellent shape. It was just too damn early in the morning to be bothered. Despite Katie's translucent tank top, Alicia's barely-there nightgown and Angelina's bare bosom, Oliver didn't look too hard at their goods.

Once news of that had gotten around nearly two years ago, speculation immediately rose about his sexuality. Or lack of, for that matter. It didn't help that he had cried during that muggle film Titanic, or that he didn't mind occasionally painting toenails, or that there was a spot reserved for him on the sofa during girls' night in. Sometimes it made Oliver second-guess himself.

Then the next morning would come and three beautiful, nearly naked women gathered around the coffee pot with him. And when the caffeine and sugar finally hit his system, he would take back every doubt he'd ever had.

Oliver hid a smirk behind the rim of his coffee cup. After all, why ogle once and get slapped when he could remain calm and get a view like this every morning?


This was written at my version of midnight (meaning two in the afternoon), so please forgive any spelling or other errors.

Will write for reviews!

-Thrae