First off, thanks to everyone who reads and reviews my stories! I really, really, really appreciate it. :) :) And yes, here's another one. It's dedicated to Eldarwen Melwasul, a good friend of mine and also a fantastic writer. Her story is called Whirlwind, so everyone should go read it. :)
Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter 1: Extraneous Activities
It wasn't supposed to happen this way.
I wasn't supposed to die like this.
I wasn't supposed to die this soon!
"What? What are you talking about, Oliver? You're not going to die!"
Oliver Wood opened his eyes. "Huh? Did I say tha' out loud? Whoops." He sat up and rubbed his arm. A shock of pain rippled through him and he winced.
Harry rolled his eyes and pushed him back down. "Now, lie still." he said. "The nurse hasn't gotten around to getting over here yet, but until she has, don't move. You've broken your arm pretty badly."
"It's jus' a little scratch." Oliver grinned even as little waves of pain kept shooting up his arm. "Nothin' much."
"Nothing much." Harry rolled his eyes again. "The Keeper for Puddlemere United Quidditch team gets hit by not one, but two Bludgers, both in his right arm, breaking nearly all the bones in it and faints because the pain is too much says it's 'nothing much.' Yeah, right, Oliver."
The door to the tent flapped open and a short, stubby little witch with tightly curled grey hair and shockingly pink robes bustled in.
"Now, what do we have here?" she asked, prodding Oliver's arm, who flinched again and let out a little moan. "Ah, broken arm, we see? Well, I'll just fix you right up then, now, hold still…."
She waved her wand and Oliver felt the bones in his arms move around and then heard the snapping, cracking sound that signified they were being re-attached. He groaned, closing his eyes.
After a few minutes, the little witch stood back. "All done!" she said, smiling. "Now, just sit still for a little while, and then you can get up, all right?" She hurried from the room as there was a yell of pain from outside. She almost ran into Ginny Weasley, who was walking in.
"Hey," she said. She was still in her Quidditch robes, and holding her broom at her side. "How're you doing, Oliver?"
He grinned. "Oh, I'm holdin' up."
"Says the man who nearly cried when they carried him in the tent." Harry said dryly, and Ginny laughed.
"Well, that save you made right before was spectacular." she said, sitting down at the foot of Oliver's bed. "The Holyhead Harpy's Chaser didn't know what had hit him. Did you see the way his eyes nearly bugged out of his head after he saw you leap off your broom and tackle the Quaffle like that? It was brilliant, pure brilliance."
"Thanks, Ginny." Oliver sat up again and flexed his supposedly broken arm. It was still a little sore, but otherwise quite as good as new. "Okay, all good to go. Anybody want to get some dinner?"
"Thanks, but we have to get back to the Burrow." Harry said. "With George's wedding and all that coming up, there's still so much to be done, and Mrs. Weasley's gone nearly mad with things to do."
"I still cannae believe that George Weasley, of all people is getting' married." Oliver grumbled. "Who would've thought?"
"I know." said Ginny. "Considering that just months before he and Fred were going on about how they were going to remain bachelors forever."
Her facial expression didn't change, but Oliver felt a slight stabbing in his chest when he thought of Fred. Obnoxious as they had been when they had been on his Quidditch team during school, he had always had a certain fondness for the Weasley twins.
"Well, I'm off." Oliver said. "I'll see ye at practice tomorrah, Ginny."
She nodded and waved, already taking Harry's hand in preparation to Apparate. "See ya, Oliver."
"Bye!" Harry called before turning on the spot and disappearing with a loud crack!
Oliver sat there for a moment. It was strange, but he felt quite at ease with himself at the moment. He was back on Puddlemere United, which had been reformed after Voldemort's destruction, doing the thing he loved most. He had the pleasure of having another Weasley on his team again; although Ginny had never been on the Gryffindor team with him, he had been happy just the same. She had been signed on with Puddlemere United when Hogwarts was found out not to be reopening in time for her to go for her seventh year. The girl was a superb Chaser, although Oliver suspected that she would rather be Seeker. He had his own, nice (however slightly rundown) flat, down in Diagon Alley. He had a cat. An obnoxious, highly aloof cat, but a companion nonetheless.
Oliver smiled to himself and Disapparated.
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It was a wonder that Oliver had survived as long as he had without proper sustenance. He was nearing twenty-three, and had yet to eat a suitable meal. Being an unmarried man living alone in an apartment meant that he survived mainly on eating out and scrounging around, living off of Pumpkin Pasties and Licorice Ropes. Not exactly his ideal kind of eating, but there wasn't much he could do about it at the current moment. Oliver wasn't exactly raking in thousands of Galleons. Puddlemere United was still underway to becoming a major Quidditch team.
Waving his wand absentmindedly, Oliver almost failed to notice that the pot on the stove was steaming and letting off copious amounts of orange-ish smoke. Hastily, he turned off the fire and moved the pot to the other burner.
"Damn." he muttered, prodding the now black substance with his wand. It had acquired the texture of a pile of melted tar. He sighed and dumped all of it in the rubbish bin.
Opening his cupboards, Oliver rummaged around in the shelves, finding nothing but a half empty box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and a lot of cobwebs. Next, he tried looking in the pantry, but quickly distinguished the idea when he noticed the family of mice living in the bottom. It looked as if it was another day of eating out.
Whistling to himself, Oliver made his way out of his flat and down through the lobby of the building. He waved to the doorman and was about to leave when someone said "Oliver!"
He closed his eyes, recognizing the voice. Pasting a smile on his face, he turned around to see Jemima Jeffries from the flat below his striding across towards him. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes twinkling.
"How are you?" she asked.
"I'm fine, thank ye Jemima. how are ye?" He would regret asking, he just knew it.
"I'm fine, thanks, just waiting for Genie to get down here. You know how she is getting ready. Always have to look exactly right. Well, she's nothing if not prompt. We weren't supposed to meet for another five minutes, and you know Genie, she'll be here exactly on time or not at all. I guess it's that internal clock inside people are just talking about, you know? Well, we were just about to go get something to eat. Would you like to join us?"
Oliver had been so busy trying to figure out if Jemima had taken a single breath during all of this that it was only after a few seconds of silence that he realized she had asked him a question.
"Oh, er…" he said, blinking. "Well…"
Jemima wasn't paying attention. "Oh, there you are, Genie! Right on time! See, I told you Oliver."
Imogene Wilkins walked up and smiled. "Hey, Oliver."
"I've just invited him to dinner with us, is that all right Genie?" Jemima asked.
Imogene turned her blue-eyed gaze on him. "Oh, yes," she said. "That would be great."
Oliver groaned internally. He didn't mind Jemima's flatmate and cousin, Imogene, as much as he did Jemima, but the two of them together was nearly unbearable. He tried to think of some way to get out of it, but when no plausible reason came to mind, he had no choice but to mumble an almost undistinguishable "Yeah, okay."
"Yay!" Jemima clapped her hands together. "Oh, we should go to the Devilish Donkey, I hear they have great treacle tart for desert! Oh, or the Wicked Forest, they have great pastries…"
Oliver sighed and followed them out the building.
This is going to be one very long evening.