Hey! Thank you to everyone who's taking the time to read. I'm already working on the next chapter although I should stop so I can do some uni work. Reviews are much appreciated, they make me happy just like the bowl of Ben & Jerry's I have.
As usual I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 7
I spent the remainder of the holidays wrapped up in my own world. My days would be spent holed up in my room working on the mountain of homework that needed to be done. William tried to trick me into doing his for him not that he succeeded. Oliver and I would send owls to each other, my letters were usually complaints about William and his were almost always Quidditch centred. The night of the Quidditch game I attended with Oliver was still fresh in my mind; it was proving to be quite a distraction from my school work.
My grandparents visited on New Year's Day for a roast dinner. Oliver was coming too, my mum had insisted that way we could both get the train together the following morning. Dinner was interesting, my grandmother was elderly and eccentric and had no clue the wizarding world even existed. She kept telling Oliver that he was a lovely young man and if she wasn't so old she'd be tempted. It was more than a little embarrassing. It was a good thing my parents had such a large house, there were more than enough spare rooms.
When everyone was in bed Oliver snuck into my room. For the rest of the night we curled up under my thick duvet enjoying being in each other's arms before returning to school the following morning where we wouldn't get a chance to be together as we currently were until the summer my head resting on Oliver's Quidditch toned chest as I dropped off to sleep.
Oliver had to creep from my room in the early hours of the morning to the guest bedroom. My mother cooked a filling breakfast before we set of for Kings Cross Station ready to board the Hogwarts Express. Hopefully this time there would be no Dementor attacks. Sirius Black was still at large but that didn't stop us from exchanging stories of our Christmas. We occupied the same carriage we always did; I sat next to Oliver in the corner. A sombre mood had befallen us all. This would be the last time we take the Hogwarts Express to school, never again would all sit together and exchange tales as we excitedly discussed the coming year and school gossip. In an attempt to cheer ourselves up we started an exploding snap tournament of girls versus boys. The girls were winning until Percy dragged me off for prefect duties.
I patrolled the corridors, the Slytherin were the worst but then again they always were. The Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's were no trouble at all. As for the Gryffindors they pushed the boundaries thinking I would be lenient on them. I wasn't. I mercilessly took points and confiscated fanged Frisbees and wet start fireworks. The most trouble came from the seventh year Slytherins, they were evil particularly Marcus Flint their Quidditch captain. It was no secret that Oliver and I were together. This opened up the door for a whole new level of torment, particularly around game time when they knew that by messing with me they would get to Oliver. It was always harmless, the odd hex or insult nothing serious but it still annoyed Oliver. Time and time again I'd tell him I could look after myself, they didn't scare me. One thing was certain I could sure as hell give as good as I could got.
"Put the wand away Flint," I demanded having seen him raise his arm from the corner of my eye.
"Ha! Not likely," Flint replied.
"I'm not asking, I'm telling you," I turned around and rested my hand on my own wand in my pocket.
"Awww you tell me, sorry mudblood not going to happen," he tightened his grip on his wand.
I pulled my own wand out and aimed it straight at him, "I'm warning you." That earned several laughs from the Slytherin and I flashed red, I wasn't going to lose my composure completely I'd follow through with my threat.
Flint smirked, "where's your precious Wood?"
"I don't need Oliver to look after me," I replied coldly.
"I beg to differ," he began a hex but I beat him to it with a knee-reversing hex. Flint topped over backwards as his legs crumbled, he screamed out in anger and pain having landed on the floor with a thud. I didn't hang around for the rest of the Slytherin's to launch to his defence instead I retreated to the safety of the Gryffindor carriage. Call me a coward if you like but when surrounding by ten angry Slytherin there really isn't another choice. Percy would no doubt come and reprimand me for it later.
"Finished?" Oliver asked. I nodded and decided to keep quiet about my Slytherin run in.
It didn't take long for word to get around. Colin Creevey an annoying second year proudly stood in the doorway to our compartment and announced someone had hexed Marcus Flint. "I want to congratulate whoever did that," Phillip laughed. I kept quiet and just smiled.
The boys took to discussing how they'd hex Slytherin, I thought it best to interject, "you do realise that as prefect I should be deterring you from this."
"Are you honestly telling us that you wouldn't do it if you had the chance?" Matt challenged.
"Well," I'd already done it.
"Eleana!" a flustered Percy appeared in the doorway this time. Oh this was not good, this was so far from good. I sunk low into my seat ignoring the looks I was getting.
"What have you done?" Oliver whispered. I shushed him and let Percy rant.
"You're a prefect you cannot hex people," he stood with his hands on his hips looking down. I felt like a scolded five year old.
"Sweet Merlin, you hexed Flint!" Matt shouted as the pieces fell into place.
"In my defence he was going to hex me first," I defended.
"That still doesn't give you a right to…" Percy was drowned out my congratulations from my fellow seventh years. Percy continued his speech but none of us were listening instead we were laughing at the Slytherin expense, Oliver had been unusually quiet. I'd expected him to have something to say, he couldn't stand Flint. Percy had long since left. A few younger Gryffindor's and odd few Hufflepuff's appeared to offer a comment on the Flint hexing every now and then. Soon the news was all over the train.
"Are you completely stupid?" Oliver asked eventually, the compartment fell into complete silence. I frowned at him, "Flint will want revenge for that."
"Don't worry, there's enough of us to take on a bunch of Slytherins," Lauren slammed her fist into her open hand.
"I won't always be around to protect you," Oliver whispered so only I could hear once conversation started up again.
"What make you think I'll need protecting?" I raised an eyebrow.
"You just did," he replied, it was nice that Oliver cared so much but at times he could be too overprotective. I let the subject matter drop and returned to discussing the next few school months with Amy. We were both taking herbology and had plenty to say on the horrible essay that Sprout had set us over the Christmas period. William stopped by to high-five me on my achievement, he found it highly amusing.
After a warm cooked meal in the Great Hall we all retreated upstairs to finish last minute homework before turning in for the night. Over dinner Oliver had shot dirty looks at the Slytherin table, particularly at Flint, who was returning the dirty look.
For the first week of term Oliver followed me around like a hawk wherever I went and if he wasn't their then he'd instructed someone else to walk with me. It was getting frustrating; I couldn't even go to the library alone. By the weekend I'd all but exploded at him, I could handle the Slytherins I didn't need to deal with him being overly protective. On top of Oliver becoming my permanent shadow I had to listen to him ramble on about Harry's new broom. I'll be honest I wasn't interesting but I listened nonetheless knowing, as everyone else did, that Quidditch and Oliver were a love affair for life. Apparently he'd received a Firebolt over Christmas, I guess that it must be the best available having seen Oliver drool over it in his Quidditch magazine. Apparently the new Firebolt had been confiscated which annoyed everyone on the Quidditch team. Oliver demanded that Harry needed it back for their game on the fifth of February against Ravenclaw.
In transfiguration on the first Monday of term Oliver asked Professor McGonagall about Harry's new broom, he wanted to know when he could have it back. McGonagall told him that it was likely to have been sent by Sirius Black and may be jinxed. Oliver was annoyed and spent most of the lesson asking McGonagall over and over again until she eventually snapped , "Wood need I remind you that is not a Quidditch pitch, as much as I would like to see Gryffindor win I just cannot bend the rules."
Oliver raced to McGonagall's desk at the end of the lesson leaving me to pack up his things, "If this is about the broom then I don't want to hear it," McGonagall cut him off.
Oliver ignored her, he was thinking Quidditch, "I don't care if it throws Harry off so long as he catches the snitch first," McGonagall crossed her arms. I prepared myself for the shouting.
"Wood you have your priorities wrong, you are caring more about winning the cup than staying alive!" I swung my bag onto one shoulder and Oliver's onto another and made for the door. It was a safer distance.
"Quidditch injuries happen all the time," Oliver answered back, "so long as we win there's no problem." I wanted to bash my head against the cold stone wall, Oliver was unbelievable.
Back in the common room that night Oliver went to report to Harry that he'd had no luck and suggested to him that he order a Nimbus 2001 for the game, "Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She – err got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first."
Harry declined which left Oliver and the rest of the team conspiring to steal the Firebolt. It was harmless but Percy didn't seem to think so which ended up with him reporting them to McGonagall and confiscating their plans.
Oliver stepped up Quidditch practice to five times a week throughout January, it gave me the break I needed from his constant company. I'd sneak off to the library and drag Lauren and Amy with me so we could complain about the male species in general and the horrendous work load that seemed to have doubled since Christmas. "Not surrounded by your knight in shining armour?" Isla Bertram, a hard faced seventh year Slytherin said snidely.
"Sod off," I muttered and returned to my runes book ignoring her.
When we returned to the common room I was greeted by a very wet and very smelly Oliver. He had just returned from Quidditch practice. I pushed him away as he held his arms open for me he laughed and instead went up to his dorm to shower and change.
Slytherin were playing Ravenclaw on the fifteenth of January. Oliver dragged me along to watch the game analysing every move that both teams made. He would scribble things into a little red notebook at breaks in play. It was fair to say the Oliver was demonstrating to the max is Quidditch obsession. Slytherin beat Ravenclaw but it was narrow victory. Oliver having done quick sums worked out that if they could beat Ravenclaw then they would be in second place for the house cup. On the way back up to the castle for hot chocolate in the common room Oliver replayed the entire match to me; I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd been there right next to him as we watched the game. Once back in the common room Oliver stood in front of the fireplace with the Quidditch team and began a lengthy analysis of the game telling them weaknesses he'd spotted and how they could exploit them. Most members of the Quidditch team were obsessed with Quidditch although not to the extent that Oliver was therefore it was no surprise to see a few blank faces, their minds clearly elsewhere.
Once he was finished the team dispersed and he sat down in an armchair, I sat myself down in his lap and asked Oliver if ever thought about toning down his love for Quidditch to which he'd replied if I was crazy before kissing me. A few sixth years shouted at us to get a room to which Oliver stuck two fingers up behind my back.
Two days before the Quidditch game Harry got his Firebolt back. It was passed around the common room; Harry practically had to pry it from Oliver who was one step away from declaring mad passionate love to it. Having finally relented and let go of the broom he sat down next to me looking dreamy. I couldn't help myself and laughed, "Do you and that broom want to get a room?"
"That broom? Ellie that broom isn't just a broom, it's a Firebolt," he then proceeded to tell me how great it was. I'd heard this a handful of times already.
The day before the game Oliver held a Quidditch practice, he had Gryffindors stood outside the pitch standing guard to stop any sabotage or spying. I had an essay for runes to complete so sat in the stand wrapped up in thick woollen hat and scarf and wrestled with my quill in the cold February wind, apparently gloves and quills didn't go together. When Harry let Oliver have a turn on his Firebolt I stopped my work, Oliver's face was lit up like a child at Christmas. Later I would go on to hear that this was the best practice he'd ever had, from William I would hear that he didn't have any criticism which was a first.
When the team dispersed Oliver, still dressed in his kit, walked up the steps in the stands. He grinned down at me, "pack everything up," he said in his thick Scottish accent.
"Why?" I asked cautiously not trusting the look on his face.
"Do you trust me?" I was hesitant in my reply but packed everything away. Oliver took my hand and before I knew it I found myself on the back off his broom.
"Oliver! Put me down now!" I practically screamed. I hated heights. With my arms wrapped tight around his waist I screwed my eyes shut tightly. "I think I'm going to be sick," I muttered. With one I open I cast a look down before promptly closing it again.
"Ellie I'm not going to drop you," he said matter-of-factly.
"I hate you," I mumbled.
Oliver chuckled," just open your eyes, promise I won't drop you."
Reluctantly I opened my eyes and concentrated on not looking down, "Oh," I said forgetting the height. I was memorised by the silhouette of the castle against the low February sun as it set. Oliver beamed triumphantly.
Once safely back on the ground Oliver had to practically lift me from his broom, my body was frozen with shock, "that wasn't so bad was it?"
"You're joking right? That was bloody awful," my words hurt Oliver, I could tell by the way he averted his eyes, "it was pretty though," hopefully that would fix it.
"Flying isn't for everyone," he commented although we both knew he didn't believe his words according to Oliver flying was life, flying and his dinner.
I patted his arm as we linked arms to make our way back to the castle with Oliver carrying my bag and his broom, "if I ever want to take to the sky again it'll be you I come to."
"I'll take that," he leaned down to kiss my cheek.
Once back in the common room I saw no more of Oliver, he was in game mode completely. He lectured the team for well over an hour; they went to bed grumbling about hearing the same speech before.
Game day arrived; Oliver was up bright and early leading the way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. The entire house had turned up to protect the Firebolt on its way down to breakfast, Oliver shovelled breakfast into his mouth with military precision with one hand on his broom at all times his eyes shiftily watching the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw's. The weather was bright and the skies clear, great Quidditch playing conditions according to Oliver. Some of the Ravenclaw's wondered over to marvel at the broom, most of them turned away with only a few braving the murderous look on Oliver's face. Lauren and I giggled mercilessly from the other side of the table.
Oliver was full of enthusiasm and determination; I managed to pull him aside to say good luck with a quick kiss before he disappeared into the changing rooms. I then made my way with the other seventh years up to the stands. We all carried various banners and were sporting Gryffindor colours. I really hoped we beat Ravenclaw more for my own sake than from a house cup point of view, a sulking Oliver was unbearable.
Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle into the air and the game begun. Lee Jordan was commentating; he was incredibly biased towards the Gryffindors in his commentating and frequently lapsed into lavish descriptions of the Firebolt. It was clear, as we watched the game, that the Firebolt was by far the best broom on the pitch. "You have to be the luckiest girl in the world," Amy commented, she was stood in the row behind. I smiled back and nodded as I watched Oliver.
The game, unlike a Slytherin game, was a clean one. A loud cheer erupted from the crowd as Harry dashed forwards having seen the snitch, at the same time Lauren squealed. I looked to where she was looking; a bludger was heading straight for Oliver. Shouting at him to move out the way it was no use, he was watching Harry. The bludger collided with his chest, thankfully he did fall from the broom but he looked winded. I couldn't watch but I forced myself to. Madam Hooch called a break in play; Oliver shoved her attentions off and by the looks of it was insisting that he was capable of carrying on. I had to smile despite my worry. Hopefully he wasn't too hurt. I didn't take my eyes off of Oliver for the rest of the game; I could see that he was in pain. I even missed Harry casting a Patronus and catching the snitch. Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw.
After the game I lingered outside the team changing room for Oliver, I was still worried about him. I pounced on the first person or rather people out of the changing room. "Fred, George! Is Oliver alright?"
"I don't know," Fred replied.
"He might lose his arm," George continued for his brother.
"My money is on his leg," Fred grinned at his brother and the pair walked back to the castle, they were followed by a gaggle of girls as they did so.
Impatiently I stared at the door, the girls left next in high spirits from the game, "Don't listen to Oliver, he's fine," Katie answered when I asked her.
"He's male he's going to milk it for everything that its worth," Alicia laughed. It must not be that bad.
When Oliver left the changing room with his broom slung over his shoulder I flung my arms around him, "owww," I backed away quickly.
"I think I've broken a rib," he grinned, trust Oliver to grin despite his injuries. He clearly couldn't stay mad at his one true love in life.
"We'll go and see Madam Pomfrey," I linked my arm in his as we walked up to the castle. Oliver protested the entire time, he wanted to celebrate the win rather than sit in the hospital wing apparently he thought he could get his rib mended tomorrow.
"We're going, I'm sure the celebrations will continue well into the early hours of the morning," I led him to the hospital wing away from the Gryffindor tower. As we walked Oliver explained that the Dementors had been Flint, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle
In no time at all Madam Pomfrey mended his rib and we walked through the portrait hole where we were greeted with cheers, or rather Oliver was. Fred and George had smuggled in food and drink from Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks as well as stealing from the kitchens. We partied long into the early hours of the morning until Professor McGonagall ushered us all to bed.
Oliver and I had spent a good portion of the evening snogging in a corner of the common room until having enough of hearing enough rude comments from our fellow Gryffindors we slipped away up the stairs to the boys dorm where we could be alone.
"Had a good night?" Lauren teased as I entered our dorm with ruffled clothes. I blushed and feigned tiredness to escape to bed quickly.
The morning was chaotic; we were woken by screams and shouts. Everyone gathered in the common room, Oliver appeared clad in only tartan pyjama bottoms, I dragged him with me to find William ignoring Percy's shouts to go back to bed even though Sirius Black had been in the third year's dorm. William wasn't around. I stormed up the stairs and discovered him still in bed. For a few minutes I shouted at him, Sirius Black had apparently been in the dorm on the floor below and he slept through it. When everyone calmed down McGonagall forced us back up to our dorms.
