It's Not My Fault I Fell For Your Stupid Accent

Disclaimer: I had a dream last night that I was J.K. Rowling and I invented the Harry Potter universe (and I was also scandalously dating Rupert Grint). However, I woke up this morning and I was just plain old me with my giant poster of Ron Weasley taped to my bedroom door.

A/N: So it's been about 7 months since I last updated this story and even I was beginning to doubt I ever would, so I'm not sure how many people will still be reading this. However if you don't all want to go back through my story to refresh your memories, here's a short re-cap:

Oliver realised he liked Katie Bell, Katie thought Oliver was a lunatic, Marcus Flint created a sensation in lime-green "I Heart Katie" t-shirts, Katie dated Roger, Oliver dated a girl to make Katie jealous, Roger and girl began dating, Katie's mum hooked up with Oliver's cousin-in-law, Katie's mum then left cousin-in-law for Katie's long-lost father, Katie left house in a rage, Oliver returned to Hogwarts and promptly got a blow to the head with a Beater bat courtesy of the Weasley twins. Here's the last section of the last chapter to refresh your memories even more, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!


Previously, in It's Not My Fault I Fell For Your Stupid Accent:

"Oliver, how's your head?" she asks slowly.

"Oh, great, great! Everything's great!" I remember I'm supposed to be thoroughly depressed about the break-up.

"Erm actually, now that you mention it, I'm severely depressed." I hang my head and try to look like a suicidal wreck.

"Are you sure there's no medication you're supposed to be taking? You're acting worse than usual."

"No, it's just, that break-up hit me hard. I was so happy when they were together, and seeing James so heartbroken; I don't know if I'll ever be the same again."

If I didn't know better I'd say Katie's eyes are flashing in anger, but it's just the reflection of lightning from outside. Which accounts for the emptiness of the Common Room; judging from the sky it's probably past twelve.

"Oliver, try not to mention anything to do with my mum for at least the next fourteen years. I mean, if she can forgive my father in that time I'm sure I'll be able to forgive her," she remarks cattily.

Er, okay…I'll just walk away now.

"And Oliver?" she calls as I slowly make my way up to my dorm.

"I'd change into something else before tomorrow if I were you. Hospital gowns aren't the most flattering of clothes."

Oh shite.

She grins.

"Nice butt though."

Hallelujah, praise the Lord! I knew Quidditch was good for something!


Chapter 8: From Awkward, to Painful, to Just Plain Crazy

Katie

Everybody knows that awkward stage when two people who were once good friends and made the stupid mistake of getting 'involved' decide to break up. It's those first few weeks where you're not quite sure if a joke about the size of his penis is allowed, and where he doesn't know if it's okay to flirt with his favourite barmaid in front of you. The thing is, the awkward stage is reserved for newly-broken-up-best-friends, not for Quidditch-captain-and-Chaser-whose-respective-guardians-dated-for-a-very-short-time-over-which-they-became-friends. Then why on earth is it so awkward for me to pack up Quidditch gear with Oliver Wood?

"So…"

Pause.

My broom falls to the floor with a clatter as it slips from under my arm (which is also full of practice-Quaffles so I'm not as clutzy as I sound).

"Ouch!"

We both bent down to rescue my broom and of course managed to bang heads in the process. I straighten up clutching my broom and blinking stupidly as Oliver rubs his head with a small frown. He looks quite cute when he does that actually; it gives him a little dimple on his cheek…

"Are you alright?" Oliver asks.

Apparently he's noticed that I've stopped dead in my tracks and am staring blankly at his left cheek.

"Er, yes, tip-top, one-hundred-percent, jolly good, top notch, happy as Larry…as a matter of fact how do you know Larry is happy? Who is Larry? Does anyone actually bother to find out if he's really happy? You'd think that people would care, I mean the phrase gets thrown around like a –"

"Whoa, steady on there, you're sounding like me now," Wood jokes, grabbing the Quaffles off me one by one and stacking them on a shelf as I mumble to myself. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Of course it's okay, I haven't talked to my Mum in two and a half weeks, I've recently discovered my long-lost father who I have already managed to hate and now everything is awkward between you and me and I don't know why." Whoops, I didn't mean for all that to come out.

"I could help you," Wood volunteers, placing the last Quaffle on the shelf.

Wood? Help? He's nuts if he thinks he can help me. He's nuts anyway I suppose.

"How could you help?" I ask cynically.

"I meant to carry your broomstick," he explains as my broom clatters on the ground again.

Oh, right. At least I'm smart enough not to make the same mistake twice—

"OUCH!"

Nope, I just make the entirely new and extremely painful mistake of trying to avoid Wood's head, tripping over my laces and falling flat on my behind.

"Frickity frick and a bag of Doxy droppings – THIS ISN'T FUNNY OLIVER!"

The stupid boy is chuckling like a mentally-impaired buffoon at the sight of me sprawled on my back.

"I think I liked it better when this was awkward," I mutter angrily, getting up and dusting off my backside with no second offer of help from Oliver.

"It'll all sort itself out soon enough," he finally offers as he checks the lock on the shed and I squint quizzically.

"What? My butt?"

"Your mum, your father, your butt. I mean, things are getting less awkward between us now aren't they?"

"Yeah, maybe I should just go home and fall down a few times, I'm sure it'll fix everything," I shoot back, but with a smile. It reminds me of all the fun I had arguing with him over the holidays.

"So there's been no conversing at all with your parents since you hijacked Alicia and George's baby-making-fun?"

"Apparently my mum checked with Alicia's to make sure I was alright before I came to school. Then she owled me about three times in the first week but I burnt the letters and sent her back the remains so I think she gave up."

"Oo-kay," Oliver says slowly, like burning your mother's letters and posting them again is crazy.

"I don't know, I guess it was kind of an odd thing to do, I'm just so confused about this whole thing…" I trail off; Wood probably doesn't want to hear all about my teenage angst.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I don't waste a moment. "Well firstly I feel awful because I know how much I've upset my mum, and I really don't mean to because I know she deserves to be happy after all these years being alone. But I can't stop myself from this stupid feeling that she cares more for Derrick than she does for me. Then I feel like she shouldn't be with him, because I mean, no excuse is good enough for the position he left her in when she was seventeen. I feel like she can't think straight and that if I just let her let her guard down for my father, then he'll just hurt her all over again. But then I feel confused because this is my dad, and I don't want to hate him, and I don't think I really do hate him, but I don't feel like I should forgive him this easily either. And most of all I feel incredibly alone because as far as I remember it's always been me and my mum; the longest I've gone without communicating with her in some way is twenty-four hours, and it's all my fault that we're not talking now."

I stop to take a breath and realise two things; one, I've reached the castle and two, I'm alone.

"Oliver?" I ask suspiciously, thinking that he's probably planning on pouncing at me from the shadows to scare me.

"It's not funny anymore Wood, if you try to hex me I'll get you with a Bat Bogey Hex and then we'll see who's laughing," I say sternly, pointing my wand into the looming darkness.

It's then that I hear a muffled yell, followed by a crashing noise from the closest bush, and then Wood emerges, covered in bits of leaves and sticks like some sort of odd headgear, brushing himself off and glancing furtively into the bush from whence he stumbled.

"What just happened?" It's not every day that my Quidditch-captain-turned-therapist gets swallowed up by a bush and spat back out again.

"Er, just thought I'd take a short detour…through a thicket of thorny bushes…to uh, you know, clear my head…"

"If you ask me, your whole body needs a bit of clearing," I answer as I swing open the great oak doors, and he brushes himself off more vigorously. I can't believe I was just divulging my innermost feelings to this boy, and all he can do is take a shortcut through a thicket of bushes!

"Right, see you round Katie," he says, turning in the opposite direction to me and hurrying down the Great Hall, disappearing in the half-light before I realise it.

"Wait, Wood, where are you going? It's almost nine, we have to go to our dorms – Oliver?"

I let out a frustrated growl and storm up to the Gryffindor tower without him. If that boy doesn't watch himself he's going to end up in St Mungo's, and I won't be visiting him.


Oliver:

"Seventh floor, seventh floor, what bloody tapestry are those infernal – oh."

I stop my muttering and hold my wand up to the wall, making out the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach ballet to a group of trolls.

"Alright." I peer around cautiously to check that nobody is around, then try to remember what I'm supposed to do next.

"Right, go to the tapestry on the seventh floor…done that…turn to the wall opposite the tapestry and concentrate hard on finding us, walking up and down three times…right."

I turn to face the opposite wall and concentrate very hard, pacing up and down three times. On the third turn I wheel around, squinting at the wall, which is very hard to see now that it's ten past nine and the lights are all out.

Oh if Filch catches me I am incredibly screwed, I think, shielding my wandlight with my cloak as I continue my staring competition with the wall, which is now a door.

I grab the handle quickly and enter the room, shutting the door behind me as softly as I can. Then I turn around and glare at the two smirking faces in front of me.

"So you found the place alright then Wood."

"I was rather scared that our dear captain might try and give us the slip dear brother."

"WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU TWO IMBECILES WANT?!" I yell in my angriest voice. It's quite impressive if I may say so myself.

"Before you try intimidate anyone you should probably remove that pretty pink flower from behind your ear," Fred advises me.

I swipe at my head and a deluge of sticks and leaves fly to the floor.

"Much scarier," George says with a huge grin.

"What on earth were you two playing at, pulling me into that thicket?" I yell in the same angry voice. "Now Katie thinks I'm an insensitive idiot who likes taking shortcuts in bushes whilst I'm supposed to be listening to her divulge her innermost feelings!"

"Well, she got 'idiot' right…"

"ARRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"

"Now now Oliver, there's no need to lose your temper. We're only doing you a favour."

"Doing me a favour? I'm covered in scratches and I smell like rotting wood!"

"Ahh, they're only short-term effects Wood, nothing compared to the joys awaiting you if you accept our proposal," Fred guides me to an armchair beside the crackling fire and I slump into it resignedly. I've put up with my fair share of Weasley kidnaps and harebrained schemes over the years and I've learnt that the best way to escape with your body intact (and all limbs in their proper places) is to hear the twins out and then run.

"What is it?" I ask wearily.

"No need to adopt that tone—"

"I'm not sure we want to help someone this ungrateful," the other one finishes.

"Ahh but remember Fred, this boy is so incompetent that without our help he will probably die at the age of ninety clinging onto his broomstick and wondering why he'd never kissed a girl."

"Too true dear brother," Fred removes himself from his purple velvet armchair and pacing the room slowly. "Oliver, we've been watching you for a while now," he begins, glancing up at me before continuing his journey from the left of the fireplace to the right.

"We've watched your harmless puppy love for our underage Chaser blossom into a sick and disturbing mania—"

"Obsession," corrects Fred. "Yes, we fear that your behaviour for the past several months reflects that of a deranged lunatic and the object of your said obsession is slipping further and further from your grasp with each passing day."

"Really?" I ask in panic. Katie is slipping away from me? "Then I must go! I must kidnap her and hide her in the deepest and darkest of dungeons, where she will slowly go mad until she believes herself to be in love with me!"

I jump out of my seat and am halfway to the door before I hear a loud 'thump' and George Weasley lunges at me, pinning me to the ground.

"See? Already you've begun thinking like a psychopath!" He grunts, pulling me up and returning me to my chair.

"But we can save you!" Fred cries, clasping my shoulders with exuberance.

"You- you can?" I ask. I need saving?

"That's the reason we brought you here—"

"Reason we tackled you, dragged you into a thicket of bushes and persuaded you to meet us here," corrects Fred. "You see, with our help, you can make Katie Bell fall in love with you without all the mess of deep, dark dungeons and going to Azkaban for kidnap and torture."

I stop myself from laughing. "That's impossible. Katie Bell is never going to fall in love with me."

"Never say never my dear lad."

"We have a four-step-foolproof-plan guaranteed to make Miss Bell fall head over heels in love with you," George says, brandishing a piece of parchment before my eyes.

"Just follow these instructions, and before you can say 'galloping gargoyles'—"

"Your bonny lass will be jumping into your arms and your days of bachelordom will be at an end," Fred folds up the parchment and tucks it into my top pocket, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Why would you two want to help me?" The Weasley twins have never been known for acts of charity.

"Simply for the pleasure of seeing our favourite captain shake off the sexual tension that's been the source of so much pain and torment on the Quidditch pitch," George smirks.

"Oh, and we'll be wanting your firstborn son," Fred adds seriously.

"Wha-what for?"

"He was kidding Wood."

"Ha. Yes. 'Course you were." I knew that.

"Right, Wood, we'd best be off. Kitchens to raid, caretakers to hex, you know the deal," George hoists me out of my seat and the two boys drag me to the door.

"But what if it doesn't work? What if Katie doesn't fall for me?" I ask as they wrench open the door, glancing left and right to check that the corridor is clear.

Fred eyes me suspiciously. "Are you a unic? I always wondered why you were so reluctant to disrobe in the changerooms."

"No – I – that's neither here nor – of course not!" I splutter indignantly. "But what if the plan fails?"

Fred and George regard me solemnly, before pushing me out the door and heading down the corridor.

"If the plan fails, Oliver," George calls softly. "Then we'll help you find a nice dungeon."

I stand in front of the door with my wand held aloft, and glance at my watch. 9.30.

I feel something furry at me feet and look down into the glowing, lamp-like eyes of Mrs Norris. She mews once, then louder, and I hear the shuffling footsteps of Filch.

Oh, boy.

"Who's there my precious?" Filch is getting closer. I decide to make a dash for it.

"Meeow, meow," the stupid cat chases after me, as I race down the corridor and wrench open a door pretending to be part of the wall, throwing myself into the hidden cupboard as Mrs Norris claws uselessly at the brick.

Stupid twins,if I get a detention I'll use their heads as Quaffles next Quidditch practice

But Filch shuffles past my wall-door and I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm rather too scared to try and make my way back to the dorms tonight, so I decide to make myself as comfortable as I can in my cramped cupboard.

Before I try to sleep I unfold the piece of paper in my pocket, mutter "Lumos!" and read the first line.

'Step one: Stalk her to find out as much as you can about her, and impress her with your knowledge of her innermost secrets.'

Oh, boy…


I dream of being chased by a giant rosebush, I climb through the Gryffindor portrait-hole to escape and Katie Bell appears, crying about how I drowned Mrs Norris in a dungeon.

"She was my only real friend!" Katie yells, pointing her finger at me. "Why did you have to be so cruel?"

"But I didn't—"

"There's no use denying it Wood, you wrote it all down," George tells me, waving a bit or parchment in my face. "Here's your four-step-foolproof-plan of how to murder a cat."

"But wait, that's not my writing—"

There's a crash and the portrait hole opens again, the rosebush is waving it's branches menacingly at me.

"Wood! Wood?"

The rosebush sounds oddly like Professor McGonagall.

"No, someone save me from the carnivorous roses!" I yell, my arms flailing wildly.

"Wood stop babbling!"

The rosebush approaches, grabbing me with a surprisingly humanlike branch and shaking me roughly.

"AAAAAAAARGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!"

I open my eyes and it's broad daylight, Professor McGonagall is bending over me, looking at me sternly over her glasses.

"Oh, Professor, sorry, just having a bad dream," I explain, picking myself up from my uncomfortable position and promptly falling over due to my dead legs.

"Where you sleeping in this cupboard all night, Mr Wood?" Professor McGonagall asks sternly.

"I – er – got lost on my way back from Quidditch training, Professor."

I attempt to get up again and fall down once more.

"Well I hope you don't make a habit of it, Mr Wood," McGonagall reproaches, sweeping off down the hall.

"Will somebody help me up?" I call feebly into the now-crowded corridor. "Anyone? Yes? No, I didn't think so."

I close my eyes as a stampede of students rush past me to breakfast and begin the long wait for my limbs to regain consciousness.


A/N: So, was it up to standard? Let me know how you feel, and feel free to give suggestions or tips as to where you'd like this to head :)

Funsize xx