A/n: Yup, this story is progressing slow. That is very much the point – slow burn, baby. Wait and see. Lastly, since the students have exams twice in the book, I assume that there are two semesters, one ending roughly at the end of January, the other the usual June area.

Chapter 4 - The Unfortunate Schedule

When Oliver entered the Great Hall for breakfast the following morning, he noted with a frown that many of the Slytherins were roaring with laughter. Usually when that lot was happy it meant someone else was miserable, humiliated, or about to be. He shook his head and ignored them, settling down at the Gryffindor table. He waved in greeting to Fred, who was talking with George, Ron, Harry and Hermione. As he began eating some cereal, he read carefully over his seventh year timetable for the semester.

He had Charms first with Ravenclaw, and then much to his dismay, he had Potions with Slytherin. He would give almost anything not to have to do Potions at all, let alone with Slytherin. This particular Potions class he was taking was in fact a "make-up" class. It was to be a mix of sixth and seventh years. The sixth years were students who struggled greatly in their fifth year and would be using this class to springboard them into their usual Potions classes the following semester, whereas the seventh years were basically retaking last year's Potions in order to advance properly to regular seventh year Potions, also next semester.

He groaned aloud, shaking his head.

"What is it?" Lee, seated beside Oliver, leaned forward to look at Oliver's timetable.

"I've got to retake Potions with bloody Slytherin." He answered dismally.

Lee whistled and winced. "Ouch – that's awful, mate. I don't have mine until after lunch, and I'm with Hufflepuff."

Oliver sighed, greatly wishing was in Lee's class instead. Though a year apart, they were good friends and shared in their struggles with, and their deep dislike of, Potions. He and Lee chatted more about each other's schedules and Oliver poured himself some more cereal. A short time later, Hagrid strode into the Great Hall, carrying a dead polecat. He stopped to chat with Harry, Ron and Hermione. As he turned to head up to the staff table, Oliver gave him a small wave, which Hagrid returned cheerily.

He was actually looking forward to Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class, though he fully expected Hagrid to go about it in his usual good-intentioned, blundering way. He was sure Hagrid would make a good teacher. He had a big heart and warm smile (buried somewhere in his huge, bushy beard) and if his usual way of caring for and interacting with the students on a regular basis rubbed off in his class, then all the better it would be.

Lee and Oliver were just about ready to start exiting the Great Hall with many of the other students. Oliver tipped his bowl to his mouth to finish the last of his milk, and before Lee was able to warn him, an arm "accidentally" bumped the back of his head just hard enough that his face splashed into his bowl, causing milk to go up his nose and into his eyes. He dropped the bowl and spun around, hastily grabbing a napkin. He expected to see Fred or George (or both) standing behind him, bowling over with laughter. It wasn't, unfortunately.

"Oops!" the Slytherin girl from the previous day covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. "Sorry, I must have bumped you on my way by." Her smile, however, made it clear that it was most certainly not an accident – not that Oliver had believed her for a moment anyway.

Her eyes were dancing with amusement, just daring him to retaliate. He wiped his face dry with the napkin in his hands, pointedly ignoring two other girls (he assumed were this one's friends) who were standing a few feet back snickering and giggling incessantly. Unbidden, he could hear his mother's voice in his head: Turn the other cheek, honey. Don't ever sink to their level.

"No problem." He said sweetly. "I'm sure was an accident."

She narrowed her eyes slightly and he could see her trying to decide how to react to him. In that moment, he realized she was fairly familiar. He was pretty sure she wasn't a seventh year or he probably would have recognized her sooner – he was certain she hadn't been in any of his regular classes before. Still, he must have seen her around from time to time.

"It was a complete accident. So sorry, Woody."

He stiffened slightly. Ah, he thought. She must have been talking to my good mate Marcus.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, challenging and slightly triumphant, before turning to go.

Two can play at this game, he thought and immediately shot out his foot. He didn't know what made him do it. He wasn't the type to succumb to thoughts of retaliation – off the field, at least. Nevertheless, she clearly wasn't expecting any sort of retaliation either at that point, as she rather ungracefully stumbled over his foot and her robes, falling to the floor on her hands and knees. The two girls who'd been giggling and snickering before looked shocked and angry as they rushed to help their fallen comrade. She looked absolutely irate.

Her eyes weren't quite so merry now and her face was flushed a deep shade of red. "That was uncalled for, Oliver Wood."

He shrugged nonchalantly and stood to meet her angry gaze. "I'd say fair is fair."

"We'll see about that." She stormed away.

Lee laughed. "Wow – what in Merlin's name was all that about?"

Oliver sat back down and turned sheepishly to his friend. "We had a bit of a run-in yesterday. I have a feeling she doesn't particularly like me."

"What was your first clue?"

He picked up a few more napkins to mop up the rest of the milky mess on the table and asked, "Do you know who she is, Lee?"

"You don't?" Lee raised his eyebrow.

Oliver shook his head. "I've seen her before, but I don't know what her name is."

His friend shrugged. "I'm pretty sure she's in my year, but…" He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, I don't remember, sorry."

"Fat load of help you are," Oliver teased.

"You should probably know her name if you're going to continue tripping her and running into her, don't you think?" He gave Oliver a slap on the back and then gathered his things to head off to class.

After cleaning the rest of the milk up, Oliver gathered his own things and followed suit. He spotted Professor McGonagall exiting up ahead of him. If anyone would know who she is, McGonagall would. He hurried to catch up with her.

"Professor?"

"Yes, what is it Wood? I don't have time to dawdle, I'm on my way to attempt to teach a group of rowdy first-years."

"I just have a quick question. There's this uh, Slytherin – er, there's a girl in Slytherin house, and I was wondering if you knew her name?" He wondered if he should be hurriedly fabricating some sort of lie as to why he couldn't find out on his own.

"You can't just ask this girl what her name is?" McGonagall glanced at him with a hint of exasperation. Students these days!

"Er, well, you see…" He fought to come up with a decent excuse, outside of explaining his two rather unpleasant run-ins with her. "The uh, the thing is…"

She sighed. "Really, Wood. Just describe her, then."

"Er… dark hair – long, dark hair, dark eyes. Sixth year, I think," He was trying and failing completely to think of anything else he could say that would be helpful. Coming to McGonagall now seemed like a very dim idea.

"Dear me, could you possibly be more vague?"

He was just about to give up and figure it out on his own when as luck would have, the girl and her two friends from earlier were striding down the hall in the opposite direction, heading to class. Relieved, he quickly pointed her out.

"Hm," McGonagall sniffed. "You failed to mention 'rude' and 'provoking' in your descriptions."

Oliver stifled a laugh. He would have, but he'd thought the professor wouldn't have approved of his choice of words.

"That is Miss Audrey Lewis. Now may I be on my way?" she said sternly, indicating she was quite done with his nonsense.

"Absolutely Professor – thank you. Have a good time with those rowdy first years." He flashed a wide smile at her. Even when she was being short with him, he knew exactly how much she cared.

She gave him a tiny smile in return – for her, it was practically the equivalent of a wide grin. Though she would never admit to playing favourites, Wood had certainly been one of her favourites from the beginning. Her heart had gone out to the little, shivering child who sat on the stool being Sorted. Even then she'd had a feeling in her gut he'd become something really special – and her gut was never wrong. She'd grown fond of him over the years, and especially as his passion and talent for Quidditch grew. Her hopes of finally seeing the Cup back in Gryffindor's hands grew too. It still hadn't happened, but she hadn't lost faith yet. He would bring it home this year, she just knew it.

She felt a tiny pang of sadness, remembering this was to be his last year. She had watched him grow up, had taught him, coached him, even taken time out of her marking schedule to aide him after hours with Potions (something the poor boy had very little talent in). It seemed like such a short time ago that he was that little first year, shy to put his hand up in class…

"Professor?"

She jumped, slightly startled that she'd gotten lost in memories. She gave Wood a curt nod and hurried away, pretending the moment hadn't happened and that there was just a piece of dust in her eye, that was all.

Oliver watched her go and promised silently to keep the moment to himself. In the meantime, he was running rather late for Charms.

A/n: Thanks for reading, reviews are love. :)