"Cause I'm TNT, I'm dynamite, I'm TNT, and I'll win the fight." – TNT by AC/DC.
Chapter 2: Oliver Wood: The Bane of my Existence
"CARTER! Put some effort into it!"
"Fucking hell, Wood!" I snarled, pushing a deep burgundy curl behind my ear. "I am doing the best I possibly can!"
"Potter is three years younger than you and was raised by muggles and HE can do better than you!"
That is taking it way too far. I am actually putting effort into this goddamn Quidditch lesson! I want to keep to my word; I do, but...
"Why do you treat me like shit?"
"Because you are shit! I don't know what delusion you are under, but you are crap at Quidditch! I am seriously considering finding a new Chaser, because Gryffindor can't afford to lose because of one incompetent player!"
That is IT! I am fed up with this! Insult my personality, my fitness, all fine... but insult my Quidditch abilities...
"I quit, Wood. Obviously, I'm not up to your exceedingly high standards. Or maybe you are just a ridiculously harsh captain. Either way, I'm gone."
I expected him to look angry, scared, disbelieving... but he looked indifferent. Detached. Maybe he's right; maybe I am crap at Quidditch, therefore, he doesn't care...
No! Wood is not getting to me. I am good at Quidditch. Great, even. Wood is just jealous that I am better than he is.
"Good, Carter. Finally," he drawled, his deep amber eyes looking slightly amused, proud... and...
"Have fun finding a new Chaser, Wood."
oOo
I should be happy. I no longer have to put up with Wood and his ridiculous training regimes. Or his torturous glares...
But I'm not. I am irritated that he doesn't care. He should, especially because he said that the only reason I was chosen was that I was better in comparison to the others. I thought that I would wipe that smug little smirk off his obnoxious face. I wanted him to be angry. Goddamnit, what I wouldn't do to wring his neck out! That jerk has had it in for me since... forever. I have never done anything to him, ever. I have tried my best in Quidditch, listened to his ridiculous long speeches before matches, I've been the only one not to grumble when he woke us up at stupid o'clock in the morning...
I need a shower. It has officially been two hours since I resigned. Yay me.
My muscles were still aching as hot water poured down on them, after weeks and weeks of tough gruel. I washed my curly auburn hair, which was tangled with mud and greasy with sweat. Gee, thanks, Wood.
I wrapped myself tightly in a fluffy white towel (hey, call it a celebratory towel. I'm free of Wood!) And walked out of the bathroom.
To my greatest anger, unhappy surprise and complete and utter fury, Wood was lying on my bed.
Wood. My. Bed. His legs were stretched out and he was staring at the ceiling, his fingers drumming on his chest. The dim lighting was casting shadows into the sharp contours of his face.
"What the BLOODY HELL!"
He stood up and looked at me; his dark eyes alight with the same, annoying indifference.
"Hello, Carter," he said calmly. I put my hands on my hips, glaring at him. He is better looking than he should be. You would think that someone with those deep amber eyes would be a kindly soul. But NO. He is as horrible to me as some Slytherins are, and that is saying something.
"What are you doing in my dormitory?"
"Well, I came here to talk about your resignation," he began, eyes locking on mine. For some strange reason, I felt my stomach flip slightly. He sat back on my bed and ruffled through my draw. Does this guy have any respect for a girl's privacy? Obviously not, I take it. I stalked up to him and snatched the pieces of parchment away from him.
"Talk or I beat you up."
He snorted mockingly, his eyes taking on the very amused nature. Amusing, eh? Yeah, a broken jaw is most amusing. To me, anyway.
"Fine, love. I spoke to Professor McGonagall, and you have to have means for resignation."
"Why did you go to her in the first place? I thought that you were happy that I was resigning?" I said, cocking an eyebrow.
"Well, she asked me about how the team was going, and it came up in conversation. So, love, what are your reasons for resigning?"
"Firstly," I began snappishly, my hair practically crackling with electricity, "you train me unnecessarily hard. I don't know nor care why you hate me so much, but it is completely uncalled for. Secondly, you criticise every. Single. Damn. Thing. About me. Carter, your hair is messy, Carter, you are flying sloppily, Carter, you aren't listening, Carter, you have a bloody eyelash missing! I could go on!"
Wood's eyes darkened for a moment, heavy lidded, as though he was as sleep deprived as me, and I stood above him, hands on my hips and a glare in my hazel eyes.
Inescapably awkward situation number 1: I am in nothing but a towel.
"I'm harsh on you because you need it. Sure, you have the makings of a good player, but something is blocking that... you aren't focused."
I scoffed in upmost anger. If he knew what I used to do just to show that I was focused-
"I am focused, you egotistical asshole! No, you are using Quidditch training to fulfil your personal vendetta against me."
If Wood heard me, he chose to ignore it. He continued ruffling through my drawer, until he came across a particular card.
"Wood," I said warningly, as he opened the card. I watched his eyes darken, but a smirk veered across his face.
"Dear darling Isabelle-"
"Give it here-"
"I had a great holiday with you-"
"WOOD!"
"And I sincerely hope that we can catch up over the Christmas break-"
"OLIVER WOOD!"
"Because you are beautiful on the inside and out, and I really am quite in love with you!"
With or without this accursed towel on, I am going to KILL WOOD!
With speed that I didn't know I was capable of, I jumped on top of him, fury bubbling in the pit of my stomach; I was ready to tear Wood apart.
"Love, Dominic! Is he blind or brain damaged?" Wood growled, with what seemed to be uncalled for anger.
He had a hand on my thigh, stopping me from leaning upwards and grabbing the card. I was in a compromising position and he knew it: if I moved too quickly, the towel would fall off. Just as my fingertips reached the card, Wood's fingers fumbled for the envelope and a photo fell out. Blood pounded in my ears, as he looked at it, his dark eyes looking thoughtful, then annoyed... and almost... sad?
"So you have a boyfriend! A dumb one, by the looks of it... well; now I know why you haven't been focused in Quidditch!"
My hands were pinning down his hands, but the front of my towel was falling down... either I fix that up or Wood looks at the next card... which I certainly do not want him seeing...
I felt my towel fall down, but Wood and I were glaring at each other so furiously that we didn't notice. Suddenly, and of which really caught me off guard, he shifted his body and I fell off him, so that he was sitting up and I was lying on my side. Quickly, I adjusted my towel and brought my hands to Wood's neck, but he easily unclasped my fingers. Damn him and his strength. His fingers reached for the second card, which he didn't read; he just looked at the photo. God no.
It was of me and Dominic, at a beach. It was taken on the summer. In the photo, which is a muggle one, Dominic has his arm around my waist and I'm smiling, one of my hands on his leg, the other on the sand castle that we built together. Wood's eyes definitely looked sad now, mixed in with awe.
"You look so happy..."
I was momentarily distracted from my volatile fury by the look in Wood's eyes. But then I remembered that he shouldn't have that look in his eyes, because he shouldn't be looking at the photo. I snatched it off him and threw it on my dressing table. When I looked back at Wood, who was struggling to grab the card, our noses brushed against each other's.
Oh.
His eyes were a really, really deep amber, with flecks of gold. Wood's hand was on my thigh, and, most unfortunately, my towel had fallen down at the front again, so if he looked down, he would see cleavage. But his eyes were fixated on my own, and it didn't look as though he was going to look away anytime soon. Again, I was in a compromising position. If I moved, the towel would completely fall off. But I'm practically straddling Wood!
"My eyes!"
I whipped my head around, ignoring that fact that Wood would be getting an eyeful of cleavage, and saw Angelina and Alicia standing at the door, the latter of the two looking overjoyed, the other looking horrified.
"Aw! Angie, let's go; we don't want to spoil the moment!" Alicia trilled.
"There is no fucking moment," I growled. "Wood was going through my personal items."
"What, your love letters?" Alicia stated, cocking a perfectly shaped eyebrow. I glared but nodded.
"Um, Carter," Wood said huskily. I snapped my attention back to him and glared, as I saw his face contorted into a grimace, his dark eyebrows furrowed in pain.
"What?"
"Could you get off?"
"Close your fucking eyes," I snarled, as he did so. I quickly got off him and wrapped the towel back around myself. Wood stood up and glared at me furiously.
"You have to tell McGonagall your reasons for resignation, okay? Personally, I think you're just being sissy-"
"Wood, close your mouth right now, or I'll do it for you. OUT!"
Quickly, Wood walked out of the room, brushing past Alicia and Angelina.
"Seriously," I said, "it wasn't what it looked like."
Angelina nodded. "I trust you, darling. But why did you resign the team? You are a great Chaser, Izzy!"
"Ha. The captain dearest doesn't think so," I said, glaring at Angelina.
"Yeah, yeah. Who cares what Wood thinks?"
Angelina is right, but I find that I do care. After weeks of him putting me down, it does get to me. I wish that it didn't annoy me so, but Wood and that smirk just makes me want to... to...
"What do you have to say, Ally? You're awfully quiet," Angelina pointed out to Alicia, her dark eyes glittering.
"I'm still stuck on why you were straddling Wood, in naught but a towel!"
I wringed my hands and sighed exasperatedly. Merlin, all that girl thinks about is romance. The very idea of Wood and I – just - no.
"Look, I just got out of the shower and he was there. He told me that I had to go to McGonagall and give reasons for my resignation, and then he went through my stuff and found the cards from Dom and the photo!"
Alicia smirked, as she always does when she hears the name of my boyfriend. Oh god, I just realised: being in that position with Wood... would that count as cheating? No, it couldn't. He was violating my privacy, I was redeeming it... no.
oOo
I spoke to Professor McGonagall the next day about resigning. She said that as Wood was my captain, he had a right to be training me hard. But, she also said that it was completely my choice, however, there were no other candidates for the position. So either I ensure a victory for Gryffindor or retain my dignity.
See what Wood does to me.
Oliver Wood: the bane of my existence.
Grumbling, I made my way down to breakfast that morning. Being a Saturday, there were no lessons. I wore my Nirvana t-shirt and skinny jeans, my hair resembling that of a birds nest. I really do not give a damn. I sat down next to Alicia and ate my breakfast, looking up when I heard a familiar Scottish drawl.
Oh, wonderful. Wood is wearing the same shirt as I am. Nirvana are my favourite muggle band, so that must mean that Wood has either a muggle parent or a muggleborn. I wouldn't know. Given, the shirt is unisex... but seriously? Must Wood be wearing it?
"Nice shirt," he drawled, taking a seat opposite myself. I glared and brushed a curl out of my face. His lips were curled in a smirk, his deep amber eyes looking amused.
"You like Nirvana, do you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. His shirt is just a tad too small for him, which makes Kurt Cobain's head stretch under his defined chest muscles ever so slightly. He's fitter than he deserves to be.
"Yeah. What's your favourite song?" he drawled in his Scottish accent. I cocked an eyebrow. Wood was almost being... friendly.
"Come as You Are," I replied with, carefully.
"Same, but I also like About a Girl."
Spectacular. Not only does Wood have the same fashion sense as me, we also share the same taste in music. Again, Oliver Wood: the bane of my existence.
I think we realised that we were actually being civil, because Wood cleared his throat and looked at me with the same, irritated manner.
"Your hair looks like a rats nest."
"So does your face," I retorted, brushing an unruly curl away from my eyes. He cocked a dark eyebrow and smirked. I noticed that he had slight dimples in his cheeks, which were visible when the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. I think he caught me staring for a few moments than what would be considered acceptable, so I looked away and back at my plate. I was almost being... friendly. With the enemy!
"Did you talk to McGonagall about resigning?" Wood asked. I looked back up at him. His expression was almost... placid.
"Yeah, she did. It is perfectly fine for me to resign."
"I think that you're being pathetic, love," he snapped, all traces of placidness disappearing off his face.
"Firstly, I am not your 'love' or anyone else's-"
"Oh, sorry, I forgot about your darling Dominic," Wood said, rolling his eyes.
"Shut up," I snapped, standing up and striding away, not before saying, "Have fun losing the Cup again, Wood."
In hindsight, that seems very immature of me. But Wood is just an infuriating, obnoxious, arrogant... agh.
Oliver Wood: The bane of my goddamn fucking existence.
A/N:
Like my Nirvana references? Kurt doesn't die until 1994, so the dates are correct :D