Chapter Six
The Gallant Git
–
We judge others by their behavior.
We judge ourselves by our intentions.
–
"You're joking," Fred laughed.
"I swear," said George. "It was priceless."
"I'd pay a thousand galleons to have seen the look on Montague's face, or Snape's for that matter," said Fred, wrapping his arm around my neck and pulling me into some sort of congratulatory hug.
We'd caught up with Fred, who had stayed behind around the corner waiting for us, and told him about our incident after class in great detail. I thought Fred was going to wet himself as I described the texture of the goo I had poured onto Montague's head. He'd doubled over in laughter after George gave him the play by play. With smiles on our faces, we had the brilliant idea of getting some fresh air on such a beautiful day. We grabbed our brooms and headed towards the entrance hall with intentions of escaping onto the grounds for a bout of Quidditch before my Divination class. We'd just opened the large door to enter into the sunlight when an undeniable voice rung out from behind us.
"Winifred!"
"Bullocks," we said in unison, freezing mid-step and cringing at the infuriated tone of Percy Weasley.
The three of us pivoted about, eyeing the eldest Hogwarts enrolled Weasley approach, clearly on the warpath.
"I'd like a word!" he bellowed, swiftly approaching with a severe look upon his pink face.
"What is it, Perce?" I frowned, narrowing my glare.
"Well, Winifred," he began, emphasizing every syllable of my name as he halted his strides just before us. "I have a problem, can you guess what it is?"
"No, but I wager it's hard to pronounce," George scoffed, earning snickers from Fred and I while Percy's face turned even redder.
"No," Percy sneered. "My problem is your behavior in Potions this morning."
"How on God's green earth did you hear about that already?" I snapped.
"Being Head Boy has its privileges, Winifred," said Percy, puffing out his chest to flash his badge as if we were completely unaware of his title. "I was promptly informed of your indiscretion by your Head of House—"
"McGonagall is your Head of House too, you know," I replied fiercely. "Just because you're Head Boy doesn't mean you're not a student anymore."
"Nonetheless," Percy continued, unfazed by my correction. "Your irrefutable actions are bringing shame upon my sterling reputation by mere association."
"And you think I want to be associated with you...?"
"I'm warning you, Winnie," he continued, ignoring my snide comment. "If your transgressions continue then I will be forced to write Mum about your inappropriate behavior."
"You wouldn't," I warned.
"Oh, I would," he sneered. "So this better be the last time I hear of your bad behavior and that goes double for the two of you."
Without another word, Percy furiously pivoted about on his heel, leaving us to look on after him. As soon as he was out of earshot the three of us burst into a fit of laughter. We'd been threatened by Percy so many times before that it was humorous to even listen to him try to intimidate us anymore. He would never write Molly because he knew his own repercussions from us would be twice as bad as whatever punishment we received from her. Propping our brooms back over our shoulders, we headed out into the sunlight.
--
Professor Trelawney had always given the impression of a large, glittering insect. Moving into the firelight, she still had the same very thin frame; her large glasses magnifying her eyes to several times their natural size, and she draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.
"Welcome, my children, to another year of Divination," said Trelawney, flamboyantly motioning her arms for us find a seat upon on of her colorful armchairs and poufs.
Alicia, Angelina, and I found three armchairs on the front row, as far in the left corner as possible. Alicia and Angelina attempted to sit as properly as possible in the awkwardly constructed chairs while I opted to pull my leg up against my chest, resting my chin atop my kneecap. Professor Trelawney had seated herself in her usual winged armchair in front of the fire.
"So you have chosen to continue on our journey through the fascinating magical art of Divination. I must warn you, if you have struggled with this subject before things will not be any easier for you now," said Trelawney in her mystical tone. "As I've told you all before, books can only take you so far in this subject. If you do not possess the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you."
I released an obnoxious yawn, earning a swift elbow to the side from Angelina. Well, she could hardly blame me. We'd heard this same speech a million times from the goofy git.
"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to unimpressed face. "It is a gift granted to few." She tilted her forehead forward, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair and propping her chin on her laced fingers. Trelawney then smiled at me, my eyes widening in reply.
"Bloody hell," I muttered, slouching down in my seat and covering my face with my hand while all eyes were suddenly on me. Angelina snickered quietly, enjoying my rare moment of admitted embarrassment.
"Teacher's pet," Angelina teased, pinching my cheek and making a kissy face.
"Shut it," I retorted, pinching her arm playfully.
"We'll begin our lesson today with a review of crystal balls," said Trelawney, rising from her chair. With an obscene wave of her arm, a pristine crystal ball appeared on a table before each group. Some of our fellow students jumped at the sudden appearance of the crystals because they had already nearly dozed off in the comfortable seats Trelawney hadn't realized would make her students catatonic the moment their bums touched the soft cushions. "I hope none of you have forgotten how to handle your balls."
A group of boys in the back began snickering, along with me before Angie elbowed me in the side again. Trelawney shot the three Hufflepuffs a nasty glare.
"Rogers, Emmons, Andrews," she snapped. "Restrain yourselves."
The boys bit their tongues, looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes with sly grins on their faces. I instantly wished Fred and George had been there to hear her say that, but I made a mental note to tell them all the same. It was moments like that when I realized exactly why I loved having boys for my best mates. They knew when to appreciate good humor. I saw Alicia roll her eyes at the troublesome trio behind us out of the corner of my eye. I smiled to myself and bit my lower lip, replaying the funny incident in my head and imagining what the twins would have said.
"As I was saying," Trelawney continued. "I expect you all to remember the basics of how to read crystal balls. I'll give you the remainder of the time to combine your groups' predictions into a scroll's length assignment due at the end of the class. Understood?"
Everyone groaned their understanding and clear displeasure with the assignment.
"Very good," Trelawney grinned, unaware of our discontent. "Begin."
Alicia instantly slid the crystal ball towards me while Angelina pulled out a scroll. She was always our token scribe, considering her handwriting was a bit neater than Alicia's and mine was about as close to illegible as humanly possible. I grabbed the crystal and shoved it back at Alicia who shot me an aghast look.
"She's going to know I made all the predictions if you don't even look at the bloody thing," I said to Alicia.
"But you're the only one who can ever see anything in it," Alicia whined.
"Then pretend for ten minutes and then pass it down," I retorted.
"Fine," she huffed, rolling her eyes.
Alicia set her bent elbows on the table, leaning forward lazily so her head rested atop her hands. She squinted so hard I wondered if her brain would soon explode. She didn't say anything for nearly five whole minutes, opting to turn the ball onto every angle as if she was missing something.
"I see mist," she finally concluded.
"Well, obviously," I frowned, rolling my eyes and sitting back in my chair. "That's what everyone sees."
Alicia turned her head and stuck her tongue out at me, earning the same response from me. Angelina laughed at our idiocy.
"Do you see anything else, Leesh?" I asked.
"Er—" she started, leaning so close that her nose was a millimeter from touching the crystal. "I see a man...I think...maybe? It could be a walrus. I can't tell."
I snorted loudly while Alicia blushed.
"A man, eh, Leesh?" said Angelina in a suggestive manner. "I wonder who that could be..."
"Shut up, Ang," she warned, shooting Angelina a look that shouted Don't-You-Dare.
It was too late. I was intrigued which was a rarity concerning incidents such as this. I usually could care less about stupid "who likes who" foolish nonsense, but I would listen to anything to avoid participating in Divination work. I smiled deviously and peered over at Alicia, raising my eyebrows up and down suggestively.
"It's no one," she replied hurriedly. "Right, Ang?"
Angelina smirked, enjoying her humiliation.
"Why can Angelina know, and I can't?" I asked, suddenly abashed.
"Because you'd tell him," she replied.
"You know I'm no gossip, Alicia Spinnet!" I objected.
"I wasn't implying you were," she said sheepishly. "It's just— it's just you're particularly close to him, and I think you'd feel inclined to tell him."
"Who is it?" I repeated.
"Oh, come off it, Winnie," said Angelina. "You very well know who. It clearly isn't Fred...for obvious reasons, so who would Option B be?"
"George?" I laughed, repeating his name in a manner as if she had just told me she liked mustard on her PB & J. "You must be joking. You fancy George?"
"Keep your bleeding voice down, will you?" Alicia snapped, looking about anxiously to see if anyone heard me. No one had.
"You didn't laugh when I told you I had feelings for Fred," said Angelina. "How is this any different?"
"What kind of question is that?" I said defensively, cruder than I initially intended. "You know as well as I that Fred and George are as different as they are alike. Fred is sweet and protective, while George...well, George is just George."
"George is both of those things," Alicia argued. "I saw him stick up for you in Potions today. He was so gallant."
Her eyes drifted towards the ceiling, a dreamy look overtaking her face. I wager she didn't even realize she was sporting the stupidest smile I had ever seen in my entire life. I imagined she was fantasizing about them walking down the aisle or something.
"Gallant? Hardly," I scoffed. "He was a git. Montague would have killed him."
"That's what made his gesture so brave," she sighed whimsically.
Angelina and I looked at one another with confused looks between the two of us.
"Too bad you don't want me to say anything to him," I said, looking up at the ceiling and flipping my pigtail over my shoulder. "I would have been willing to put in a good word for you."
"You would?" she asked anxiously, then tried to appear nonchalant after she realized how desperate she seemed.
I nodded.
"Well, I suppose...if you didn't make me sound desperate and pathetic..." she began, contemplating the idea to herself. "Do you think he could like me back? Has he ever mentioned me before?"
"They don't talk about girls with me, so I wouldn't know," I shrugged. "They reserve such subjects for one another. George knew ages before I did when Fred liked Angelina. If anything, I could have Fred say something to—"
"No!" Alicia interjected. "Too many people know already. Maybe just ask him what he thinks of me..."
"Fine," I sighed, annoyed. "I'll do it next time we're alone."
"Oh, thank you, Winnie!" she cheered, a smile illuminating her pretty face.
"Welcome," I muttered, snatching the crystal ball from her.
I placed my finger tips upon the crystal ball, feeling a familiar surge of energy run through my veins. I took a deep breath, my back arching, before returning my gaze into the crystal. The mist began to clear as I squinted to see the image within the globe. A black dog came sprinting forward from the smoke, sprinting across a field. I released a quiet gasp, swallowing hard. After years of studying Divination, there was no denying what I was witnessing before my very eyes.
"What do you see, Win?" asked Angelina, peering over my shoulder.
"The grim," I breathed.
Angelina snatched the crystal ball from before me, Alicia looking over her shoulder. They looked into the mist, trying their hardest to see something, anything. They saw nothing, for only I saw the grim. The pulled back from the ball, looking worriedly from one another before settling their eyes upon me. I shrugged and smiled innocently, trying to reassure them.
"It could have just been a poodle," I lied.
–
My back ached almost as much as my fingers and my face was covered in coal black cauldron polish. Snape had been particularly nasty to me whilst surveying my four dozen cauldron cleanings, probably because the concoction via George and I that I poured on Montague's head had given Graham a rather hideous rash. To his dismay, not to mine. I didn't have the chance to eat dinner because I had too much homework to finish before my detention, placing me in an even worse mood. The only positive thought in the back of my mind was the realization of missing the Quidditch meeting.
I was all too determined to wash the grime off my face, put on my pajamas, grab a bite, and collapse under my covers. I fantasized about my warm, goose feathered mattress, the heavenly blankets, and cloud-like pillows. My eyelids began to sag at the mere thought of cuddling up and snoozing beneath such a euphoric scene.
"Fortuna Major," I yawned, rubbing my dry eyes lazily.
"You look a right disaster, Miss McKinnon," said the Fat Lady, swinging open the door.
"Oh, go erase yourself," I snapped rudely, earning a nasty look from the woman as I walked through the portrait hole.
The Common Room was dimmed, it took me several steps inside to realize I wasn't alone. Oliver Wood was standing against the hearth, his arms crossed, staring me down. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a moment before heading for the girls' staircase.
"Just going to ignore me, McKinnon?" he interjected.
"No," I frowned, freezing in my tracks, "Just hoping you were a hallucination due to my overwhelming exhaustion. However, since you're talking to me I doubt that's true..."
"Sorry to burst your bubble," Oliver sighed, "but I'm here in the flesh. Something you were apparently unable to do for our Quidditch meeting—"
"I had detention, Wood," I snapped, letting my exhaustion get the better of me.
"I was made aware of that," he replied.
"Then I suppose this conversation is over," I frowned. "Goodnight."
"Oh, no you don't," he objected, pushing himself off the hearth and walking towards me. "I stayed up late just so I could deliver the same speech to you as I did to everyone else."
"I can just hear about it from Fred and George in the morning," I replied.
"Ah, yes, I wager that would be an informative summation," he frowned, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms.
"Oliver, I've had a long day, and I'm tired," I sighed. "I'd prefer—"
"You're not going to sleep without receiving the same speech as your teammates," he insisted. "It's only fair."
"That I experience the same torture as they did?"
"Winnie—"
"Ugh!" I huffed dramatically. "Fine! Let me at least clean up before I listen to your nonsense that I've already heard a million times."
Before he could object, I hurried up the stairs. I threw off my clothes and tossed on George's boxer shorts, thrice rolling them. I slid on Fred's socks for slippers, wiped off my face, and actually brushed out my hair because even I was shocked at how outrageous it looked from my activities of the day. Grabbing the Marauders' Map, I walked down the steps, my feet heavily landing upon each step. Oliver was sitting on the sofa, his eyes met mine when I reached the first floor. He looked at me like I had never seen me before.
"What?" I smirked. "Not fond of my Weasley couture?"
"No, it's not that," he said quietly. "I've just never seen you with your hair down. It's...um... nice."
"Er— thanks?" I said with an upward inflection, striding by him. "Well, let's get a move on."
Oliver took to his feet, darting after me.
"What are you talking about?" he inquired.
"I missed dinner, and I will certainly not have the energy to listen to you ramble on with an empty stomach," I said.
"Well, the Great Hall isn't open," he replied. "Besides it's after hours."
"No, but the kitchens are, and since when have you known me to care about rules?" I said, pushing open the portrait hole and looking back at him. "Well, are you coming or not?"
He stood in place for a moment, his expression upon his handsome...did I say handsome? Er— his expression upon his face showed his obvious distaste for the idea, but Oliver loved Quidditch. He was determined to check this little 'to do' off his Quidditch itinerary no matter the cost. He heaved a heavy sigh and reluctantly followed after me. He didn't say a word as we darted in and out of the dark corridors. I continued to use the Marauders' Map as a reference to avoid Filch or any other potential detention threats. Filch and his damn red-eyed cat were always lurking about after hours.
"Do you even know where you're going?" Oliver hissed into my ear.
Peering down at the Map, I saw Filch was practically on top of us. I pivoted around and forcefully shoved Oliver into a dark crevasse, concealed by shadows. I placed my hand over his mouth, pushing him against the wall. I held my index finger over my lips, signaling for him to shut the bleeding hell up. His eyes widened looking directly down at me. I realized then how close we were. I thanked Merlin it was too dark to see because I wouldn't have wanted Wood to have see how red my face was.
"Who's there?" we heard Filch bellow.
We both ceased our breaths as the dim glow from Filch's lantern drew ever nearer. I could feel Oliver's heartbeat become much more rapid against my own chest. Finally, after what seemed like an utter eternity, the glow faded and I released Oliver's mouth. I sprinted towards our destination, Oliver trying to keep up. I skidded to halt with Fred's slippery socks against the stone floor before an enormous painting of a bowl of fruit. Oliver stood beside me several seconds later, looking around for whatever the reason I stopped was. I smiled proudly up at the fruit, looking sideways at Oliver and nodding suggestively up at the painting.
"Why are standing in front of this painting?" asked Oliver, looking at me as if I was insane.
"Oh, poor naïve Oliver, this is not just a painting," I smiled, walking forward and tickling the football sized pear. "It's so much more than that."
A doorknob magically appeared from the frame, Oliver's eyes widened in surprise. Stepping towards the knob and turning it, I motioned for Oliver to lead the way. He looked over his shoulders anxiously before striding in before me. I followed suit, closing the portrait after us. He stood in amazement at the scene before us, I suppose I had too when I first saw the kitchens. It was an enormous room, the size of the Great Hall, identical many ways. Four lines of tables lined the room, copper pots and pans almost making the walls glimmer. House elves scurried around, washing dishes and such.
"Miss Freddie!" a small voice squeaked from below.
"Hello there, Dobby," I grinned, ruffling the small amount of hair on his head affectionately. "How have you been?"
"Dobby so good, so very good!" he beamed. "Where Misters Fred and George?"
"Asleep," I said begrudgingly, realizing I'd suddenly forgotten I'd brought a new guest. "Oh, where are my manners? Dobby this is Oliver Wood, Oliver this is Dobby."
"Nice to meet you," said Oliver, extending his hand to shake Dobby's small one.
"Can Dobby get you anything?" he asked hopefully.
"Could I have a PB & J and a glass of milk?" I asked politely. "Oliver?"
"A glass of milk if you don't mind," said Oliver.
"Dobby will be right back," he cheered, hurrying off to retrieve our requests.
I smiled and nodded my gratitude, taking a seat on what would usually be the Ravenclaw table. Oliver sat beside me, still surveying his surroundings with a certain amount of fascination.
"How did you know about tickling the pear?" asked Oliver.
"I could tell you," I teased, "but then I'd have to kill you. Just ask Rupert."
"I don't know Rupert."
"Precisely," I said, pointing my index finger at him.
"Oh, come off it," Oliver laughed. "You've never killed anyone."
"You're right," I grinned, "but I have read many an obituary with great pleasure."
Oliver laughed heartily, gripping his side.
"You know, McKinnon, you're funny," he grinned. "I like that, a lot."
"I try," I shrugged humorously. "I can't take all the credit for my comedic talents, however. You can't expect to grow up with Fred and George and not have a halfway decent sense of humor…um, I take that back. Percy is the exception."
"Percy was always a bit haughty," he admitted. "I expect he was rather difficult to live with after he heard word that he was named Head Boy?"
"Yeah, he was," I said, rolling my eyes. "We didn't hear the end of it all summer."
"I can imagine," Oliver nodded.
"Fred, George, and I are going to jinx it to smell like dung. It won't wear off for over a month," I smiled, picturing Percy's face after he sees his prized possession. "We changed it to say 'Big Head Boy' over the summer. He nearly lost his mind."
Oliver laughed, his eyes shined with hilarity. I liked his laugh, it was genuine and immensely contagious.
"Brilliant," he chuckled.
"I must admit that was one of our most rewarding pranks," I smirked. "That and the time we turned Draco Malfoy's quill into an electric eel. His hair stood on end for three hours after it shocked the oily git. Snape gave us two weeks detention for that one...it was so worth it."
"I can't imagine what shenanigans you three will get into this year," said Oliver. "You lot have always served for an interesting time to say the very least, but just don't let it interfere with Quidditch."
"I'll take that as a compliment," I laughed, "and it won't."
"You should take it as that," said Oliver. "I may be a bit stodgy at times during Quidditch, but I laugh at your antics as soon as I'm out of sight...don't tell the twins that. Remember last year when Fred…er— or was it George…who thought it would be a good time to grab onto a bludger in midair to see how long he could hold on."
"It was Fred," I smiled. "George bet him a sickle that he wouldn't last more than ten seconds. Fred may have won the sickle, but he ended up having to spend the weekend in the Hospital Wing."
"I'd think they were off their rockers if they weren't such damn fine beaters," said Oliver. "But I'm ashamed to say I can't even distinguish between them sometimes."
"Don't be ashamed," I replied. "Their own mum can't even tell them apart half the time."
"How do you do it, then?" he asked.
"A few different ways," I shrugged. "Their voices for one, but I suppose if you're just looking at them…the two main physical cacophonies would have to be the small mole on the back of George's neck and the scar over Fred's left eye—"
"How did he get that scar?" Oliver smiled wisely, knowing a story was involved.
"It was an accident, honest," I said, biting my lower lip. "We were seven and it wasn't even supposed to be him, I swear. George and I got into a row after he pulled my cat's tail because I borrowed his stupid toy broom without asking. I was determined to retaliate, so I hid in the twins' closet with intentions of scaring the bleeding snot out of him. Well, to my dismay it was Fred who opened the door first. I jumped out like a Boggart, he stumbled backwards over our building blocks, and busted open his forehead. I thought Mol was going to slaughter me."
"It's stories like that that make me disappointed that I'm an only child," said Oliver. "My Mum and Dad were older when they married, so they only had time for one child. I envy you for growing-up in such a large family."
"Well, I am technically an only child too," I admitted. "My parents never actually married. You see, they got together during the War and couldn't ever find the right time to make it official. Molls and Arthur told me my parents would have probably had more kids if…er—"
"I'm sorry," said Oliver abruptly. "I'm sorry about what happened to your parents."
"Don't be," I smiled weakly to reassure him. "It was a long time ago, besides it's like you said before; I'm lucky to have grown-up in such a big family. I wouldn't be the person I am today without the Weasleys."
Dobby interrupted our conversation by dropping off our orders before us upon the table. We thanked him kindly and sipped on our drinks before I began to bite into my sandwich.
"I think this is the longest time I've ever talked to you without it involving some sort of Quidditch strategy," I said, swallowing down a large bite. "It's funny especially considering the whole reason we came here was so you could talk to me about just that."
"You really think that little of me, McKinnon?" Oliver scoffed. "I have other interests besides Quidditch."
"Really?" I smirked, raising my eyebrows in disbelief. "Name one."
"Um...I can't think of one right now, but believe me I have some," he insisted.
"Sure you do," I winked condescendingly. "Face it, Wood, you're nothing without Quidditch."
"Wow, thanks," said Oliver, obviously offended.
"Hey, I didn't say that was a bad thing," I objected. "Everyone is defined by something we're good at. You're just lucky enough to have found it early."
"And what is it that defines you, McKinnon?" he inquired.
"I'm still working on that," I smiled, "but as soon as I find out you'll be the first to know."
We sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the harmonies of the clanging pots and pans while I nibbled on my dinner. I looked over at Oliver, memorizing the golden specks in his irises. They seemed to shine when he smiled.
"So I suppose you better give me your speech before I finish my sandwich and collapse from exhaustion," I said, sipping my milk.
"Practices start one month from today," he said. "That's all you need to know."
"Who are you, and what have you done with Oliver Wood?" I smirked.
"You said you'd heard it all before," he shrugged. "I figured I'd spare you the details."
"You know, Wood, I think this has been the best Quidditch meeting I've ever been to," I grinned, swallowing my last bite.
"Me too," he smiled shyly.
—
A/N: So, this chapter was retarded because of the lack of Fred and George. I struggled through it. However, I am excited about the next chapter because the Twins will be back in full force... THANK GOD! I did need some Winnie/Ollie action though, and I needed to build up the George and Alicia business as well... so much drama building. I should update with Chapter 7 soon if I get around 85 reviews total... I posted a new poll that I hope you all will take. I took down my other poll after receiving my desired response. btw. My if there are a lot of typos I'm sorry. My computer has been bizarre lately. It's been slow with lettering, and I cannot get or receive messages correctly. I'm pretty sure I have a virus, and I'm working on it. Sorry.
PS: read HadleyConlon's George/OC, Maddy Crouch && her new sequel if you're looking for a good twin read!
Question for YOU: What do you think of Winnie and Oliver? I'm sure you all prefer Winnie and George, but have I developed a decent beginning sort of potential puppy love relationship between them? It's in the very basic stages, but do you think it seems forced and stupid? What would you like to see happen between the two of them and Alicia and George for that matter?
Coming Soon: The flight of the Fat Lady, George and Winnie have an interesting talk, Oliver takes an interest in something...or someone other than Quidditch, Quidditch practice begins, suspicions rise, and shenanigans ensue.
Dedicated to: RaeRaeMae-xoxo because she just celebrated her 20th birthday, and she's frigging awesome! I know I already made you a vid, but here is a chapter dedication too :)
Review.