Warning: More scenes and talk of a sexual nature. So, skip this first scene if that's not your thing.
Disclaimer: The world and characters (most of them) belong to JK Rowling. The story title belongs to the Cure. (Go check out the song if you haven't heard it already.)
Chapter 11: Remembrances
July 31
Wizarding London
"You never told me you could cook," Katie said as she collapsed onto the sofa next to Oliver.
"Hm?" He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her near. His face dropped low, close to her neck so that she could feel his breath tickling her skin, but he refrained from kissing her.
"Thanks for dinner, Oliver," said Angelina as she walked to her room. "Think I'll turn in now. Quidditch training starts up soon and I need to get used to the early to bed, early to rise routine."
Alicia stretched. "Think I'll turn in, too."
Alicia disappeared into the room she shared with Katie. That was the result of flipping a Galleon when Katie moved into the two-bedroom flat after Dumbledore's funeral a few weeks ago. The three of them had talked about getting a bigger flat when the lease on this one expired and maybe one further from Diagon Alley than this one. Oliver had expressed his worry over the three of them living so near the heart of Wizarding London, but respected her enough to not to bring it up again when she made it known that it was her choice, not his.
"Your flatmates have an admirable sense of discretion," Oliver murmured, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin at the base of her neck.
With a swish of her wand, Katie set a sound dampening charm and dimmed the lamps. Oliver pushed up her tank top, his hand spreading across her bare back. Katie loved the feel of his hands on her body. His skin was rough from gripping a broomstick, and his hands strong from catching and throwing Quaffles, but his touch was always soft and gentle. It gave her goose pimples when his fingers trailed across her skin like they were now.
Gripping his face between her hands, Katie brought Oliver's mouth to hers. Her tongue slipped between his lips and he groaned against her mouth. She felt herself being lowered into the cushions of the couch, Oliver half-covering her. He was careful not to put all his weight on her, but Katie didn't mind the weight of his body on hers. It felt intimate and good.
Oliver pulled up her top, his hand finding her breast. Katie pressed herself more firmly into his palm with a little sigh, clutching at his bicep lest he get any ideas about stopping what he was doing. Those long, nimble fingers uncovered her, then he teased her fleetingly.
"Not fair!" she accused with a giggle.
He looked at her from under his lashes, flashing her a toothy grin. Then Oliver bent his head and his mouth was on her. Katie sucked in a whistling breath, arching her back. He was using his tongue against her and she thought she was in heaven. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding his head to her chest.
Katie wished he would come fully atop of her. She wanted to feel his narrow hips between her thighs. She crooked one leg, causing her skirt to bunch up around her hips. Oliver's hand came to rest at her hip, his fingers flexing in the wrinkles of her skirt. Katie shifted against his hold, trying to encourage him.
"Oliver," she moaned, grabbing his hand.
Oliver stopped what he was doing, leaning his head against her chest and breathing hard. His hand flexed against her hip, his fingers digging into her skin through the fabric. He was mumbling something that sounded like "sorry" and "carried away." Then he was pulling away, tugging her into a sitting position. Katie watched, half-amused and half-befuddled, as Oliver righted her clothes, all the while staring at her collar bone.
"Oliver?" she whispered once he was finished.
His dark eyes flickered to her face and away. "Not like this, lass. Not on a sofa when your flatmates could walk in on us on their way to the loo."
"Are we…" Katie cocked her head to one side and regarded Oliver for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was pitched low, "Are we talking about shagging?"
"No," he said stubbornly. He did look at her now, his expression serious. He reached out as if to touch her, but then laid his arm across the back of the sofa. "We are talking about making love."
Gingerly, she touched his bicep and it twitched beneath her fingers. "There's a lot we can do without making love."
"There's more to making love than penetration," he replied matter-of-factly.
This was new territory for Katie. Prior to shagging Hal, all their conversations about the matter went something like: No, not yet or I'm not ready until one day they just gave in. On top of that, Katie had only seen Oliver face to face a half dozen times since she woke up. It seemed like this conversation should be happening too fast, but it didn't feel like that at all. It felt inevitable.
Hesitantly, Oliver fingered Katie's hair. "Look," he admitted, "I've shagged a few witches, had a fun romp once and straight fucked another, but I've never made love to a girl."
"Me neither," she said, then bit her lip when she realized what she'd said. "Er, I mean I've never made love, not that I never made love to a girl. Although I haven't—"
Oliver chuckled softly, his hand moving to cup her cheek. "I knew what you meant, Katie."
"Oh. Good…" He was leaning in to kiss her, but Katie stopped him with a hand on his chest. "But I'm not a virgin."
"I didn't expect you to be, lass."
He didn't?
"Oh," she muttered, brow furrowed. Was she disappointed? He'd just admitted to several lovers, plus he'd shown her nothing but respect. She knew he didn't think she was a slag, so why did she suddenly feel like one?
"How long were you with Sparrow? About two years?" he replied, then sneered. "Sparrow isn't the type of bloke who would wait around if a girl wasn't putting out."
Katie blinked at him. She had never thought of Hal like that and a part of her felt like she should defend her ex-boyfriend. On the other hand, she wondered if there was a kernel of truth to what Oliver had to say. When she thought back on it, what she remembered was Hal pouting when she stopped them from going too far.
Katie looked at her hands folded in her lap. "You aren't disappointed?"
"Merlin's beard, my mum and Catriona would have my guts for garters if I held you to a different standard than I had for myself."
Despite herself, Katie snorted with laughter, but she still couldn't quite look at Oliver.
"What is this?" he asked softly, he tilted her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. "I'll be honest with you, Katie, I'm not quite sure what I should say here. If something's bothering you, love, you are going to have to tell me."
"I'm being stupid!" She tossed her hands in the air in frustration. "It's not like Hal coerced me, I was quite willing to part with my virginity at the time. Now I feel like a proper slag because I should have waited for…for the right man."
His brow was knit together and he said slowly, "You aren't a slag. I would never think that."
"I know," Katie huffed. "I'm being stupid, that's all."
Oliver didn't say anything for a long time. He was watching her face, his thumb rubbing circles into her cheek. Finally, he said, "When I decided that I was going to wait for you to grow up, I knew there would be others. Maybe boyfriends or dates or snogging partners…maybe even lovers. I can't say I was wild about the notion, but it was the price I had to pay to let you grow up before…"
He shrugged, as if that were an adequate end to his sentence.
"Besides," Oliver mumbled and Katie had to lean in to hear him, "I'll be the first to make love to you, so none of the rest matters, does it?"
Katie reached up and kissed him hard and long on the mouth. Oliver's arms came around her, pulling her near. When she pulled away, Katie leaned her head against his chest, listening to the faint thud of his heart. She wondered about this boy-this man-she had known so long and yet she was still surprised by his depths.
"You didn't answer my question earlier," Katie said, lifting her head off his chest to look at him, grinning a little.
"Hm?" Oliver's eyes were half-mast and he looked contentedly sleepy.
"How do you know how to cook?"
He chuckled. "Oh. That."
"Yes. That. Do you have a secret domestic side I should know about?"
Oliver pulled her against his body again. "Let's not get carried away, lass. I know how to make five meals, that hardly makes me a chef."
"It's five more than I can do."
He shrugged. "My mum taught me how to follow a recipe when I was little, that's how she taught us potions. It's as simple as that."
"By making spaghetti?"'
"Well, no. She would teach us to make biscuits by following the recipe, then we moved onto bannocks, and eventually…"
Katie sat up, a wide grin on her face. "Wait just a sec, Wood. You can bake biscuits?"
Oliver blushed. "Well, I haven't made biscuits since I was fourteen."
Katie giggled. "I think I've hit the boyfriend lottery!"
"I didn't say it was a hobby," he protested, tickling her ribs lazily. "I just said that I knew how."
She swatted his hand away. "I think you are trying to distract me."
Oliver grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. "If I wanted you distracted, Bell, you would be distracted."
That sounded like a challenge, if Katie ever heard one. She shifted around so that she was straddling him. She tossed back her hair, shaking her head slightly, knowing that the movement would have the added benefit of making her breasts jiggle. She smirked when she saw Oliver's eyes travel over her body. Distracted, indeed! She pressed a teasing kiss into the corner of his mouth. He moved to capture her lips for a fuller kiss, but Katie moved just out of reach.
"So," she said coyly, "about those biscuits…"
oOo
It was late when Oliver finally came home from Katie's flat. Somehow she had managed to talk him into returning the next day to "prove" he could actually make biscuits. And she'd asked him to bring Alex along, which surprised Oliver, but he was pleased about this turn of events all in all.
The house was dark as Oliver approached, lit wand in hand. He was careful not to make a sound as he crept through the back door, sure everybody was abed. He was surprised, then, to find Catriona sitting at the table in the semi-darkness, parchment and quill in front of her.
"Hello," he said quietly, lighting the other lamps with a swish of his wand. "What are you doing up? Don't you have the big wedding tomorrow?"
Catriona sighed heavily and her face sank into her hand. "I was just writing to Bill and Fleur. I-I don't think I can go."
Oliver pulled out the chair beside his sister-in-law's. "How come?"
"I'm just not ready," she admitted, blowing her hair out of her face. "I mean, Dougal should be there with me, shouldn't he? He should have helped Charlie throw Bill a big stag party, he should be giving Bill last-minute advice that was probably rubbish anyways, he should have been my date and we should have danced together at his best mate's wedding."
Oliver took Catriona's hand, squeezing it lightly. He didn't know what to say, but then he was learning that sometimes there was nothing to say.
"Anyways," she went on, wiping her nose, "I just don't think I can do it…and I don't want to ruin Bill's day. He's really in love with that girl, you know? I even think Fleur knows how lucky she is to have a man like Bill love her."
"What are you going to write to Bill?" Oliver asked quietly.
Catriona stared at the parchment for a moment before saying, "I think I'll just tell him that Campbell is sick. I don't want to make Bill sad on his wedding day."
"You want me to warm up some milk for you?"
"No, thank you," she replied, inking her quill. "Go dream about your lass, I'll be fine here for a few more minutes."
Oliver stood and made for the stairs. He considered that he'd always seen Catriona as an older sister. Sometimes it felt as though she'd always been there, though he'd only known her since he was eleven. When his brothers had been too rough or callous about his feelings, Oliver could always count on Catriona to make it all better. But sometime in the last weeks, their relationship had changed. They were confidants now, equals maybe. She looked to him, Oliver, for support just as much as he looked to her. That was humbling.
Stopping on the bottom step, Oliver turned back to the table. Quickly, before he thought better of it, he kissed her forehead. He heard a whoosh of breath leave her, but didn't turn back. Instead he hurried up the stairs before they both started crying.
oOo
"Let me get this straight," Roberta said fiercely from her spot by the sink; she was brandishing a wooden spoon like a wand. "You, Oliver Alastor Wood, intend to take my baby into Wizarding London—which is crawling with Death Eaters-to meet this lass you've been seeing. A lass, I might add, that I have not met yet."
"Mum," Oliver replied with an impudent grin, "are you more upset about the Death Eaters or that you haven't met Katie yet?"
It was probably a good thing that she didn't have a wand in hand as she pointed the spoon at Oliver accusingly, for he probably would be hexed. "You—Do not get cheeky with me, young man."
"Mum, don't listen to him," Alex begged. "I'll be perfectly safe. I'll be with Oliver."
Mum looked at Alex, her eyes softening. "Okay…"
Alex launched himself at her, wrapping his arms about her tightly. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
"But," she pronounced, pinning Oliver with a stern glare, "I expect to meet this lass, and soon!"
Oliver laughed. "All right, all right, I get it."
He looked at Alex who was sitting down with a plate of sausages, eggs and bannocks. Oliver had already told him their plans for the day, sure that the prospect of baking with his brother's girlfriend was not Alex's idea of a good time. To Oliver's surprise, this news had not dampened Alex's enthusiasm; the lad was quite keen to go.
"Do you remember the last time we made biscuits together?" Oliver asked.
Alex glanced at his big brother warily before shoving a buttered bannock in his mouth. "No."
"Sure, you were four," Oliver said. "Fergus and I were home for Christmas Hols and Mum was sick. We were in charge of you, remember?"
"Nope."
"Alex," Mum reprimanded, setting a tea tray down on the table, "don't speak with your mouth full, you're spraying crumbs all over my table."
She walked over to Oliver and brushed his fringe off his forehead like she did when he was a boy. "I remember," she said with a sad smile. "You lads brought me biscuits and tea in bed and said it was all Alex's doing. It was also the day that Alex learned the word 'snog.'"
Oliver laughed at the memory. "At least it wasn't 'shag.'"
Mum gave Oliver a stern look, but ruined it by laughing. Just in the last week, Mum's spirits seemed to have returned a bit. She was sad-Oliver could see the grief in her eyes still-but she could speak of Dougal and Fergus now. And she wasn't quite so manic about watching over her remaining sons. This, Oliver realized, was a sign that it was time for him to move back to Puddlemere and reopen his flat.
After breakfast, Oliver and Alex stepped out of the Floo into the Leaky Caldron. If he were honest with himself, Oliver had reservations about bringing Alex into Wizarding London. Sure, they were Purebloods and ostensibly safe from the Death Eaters, but he knew all too well that there were no guarantees in these turbulent times. But Katie had challenged him to prove his biscuit baking skills and she had asked him to bring Alex along. Oliver had been unable to say 'no.'
"Hannah?" Alex called across the nearly empty pub after he brushed the soot off his robes.
A pretty girl with blonde curls came over with a big smile. "Alex, you are the last person I expected to see."
"I'm spending the day with my big brother," Alex answered, motioning to Oliver. "Do you know Oliver Wood? He was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain."
The girl looked up at Oliver. "A bit. I remember the year that you won the House Cup. Of course, Gryffindor's won the last three Cups, haven't they?"
"I can only take credit for one," Oliver demurred, offering his hand.
"This is Hannah Abbott," Alex said, nearly hopping from one foot to another. "She's Ernie's girlfriend."
Hannah turned a pleasant pink from her forehead to her bosom exposed by her serving wench costume. "I am not."
Alex gave her a devilish grin, "Well, not because Ernie doesn't want it."
"Ernie and I," she said, folding her hands primly in front of her, "are just friends."
"So, you're a Hufflepuff in Ernie's year?" Oliver asked, trying to save the poor girl from any more embarrassment.
"Yes."
"She left part way through first term," Alex said solemnly. "Her mum was killed by Death Eaters."
Silence rained down on the three. Oliver could only stare aghast at his little brother's bluntness. It was on the tip of his tongue to scold Alex or apologize to Hannah-he wasn't sure which, maybe both—when Hannah spoke.
"I heard about your brothers," she said simply, her voice like a lullaby. She brushed her fingers through Alex's fringe. "It must have been very hard, to lose both of them in the same night. I'm sorry for your loss."
Alex was looking at his trainers, but he shrugged. "They were a lot older than me. I didn't know them all that well."
"Still," Hannah said.
Silence hung in the air. Oliver admired the girl's gentleness. Her words, so simple and so few, seemed to say more than all the words Oliver had tried to say to Alex in these last months. Oliver breathed through his nose for a moment, hoping he wouldn't start crying. It didn't matter that the Leaky Caldron was nearly empty, he didn't want to stand in a public place and cry like a baby.
"Come on," Oliver said, blinking rapidly and tugging on Alex's elbow.
Suddenly, Alex threw his arms around Hannah, burying his face in her bosom. She stood frozen for a moment, as Oliver stared on in slack-jawed disbelief. Finally, Hannah wrapped her arms around the boy, stroking his hair lightly.
"Will you be back for next school year?" Alex asked into her chest.
A disbelieving smile played at her lips. "Yes, I'll be back. One more year to go."
Alex pulled away, sniffling a little bit. "See you then."
Hannah nodded and waved the brothers out the door. Once they were in the alley, the absurdity of the last two minutes hit Oliver fully. He started laughing so hard that he was bent double, tears in his eyes. Alex stood with his arms crossed petulantly.
"What's so funny?" he demanded.
Oliver wiped his eyes. "You stuck your whole head in her boobs, mate."
Alex went red all over. "I did not."
"Aye, you did. Either you are the slickest twelve-year-old I've ever met or the most oblivious."
Alex had his wand out, red sparks erupting from the tip. "Wanker," he growled, pushing past Oliver to tap the bricks and gain entrance to Diagon Alley.
Oliver withdrew his wand as he stepped through onto the familiar street. It was so different from the place he had visited since childhood. There was no hustle and bustle of friendly witches and wizards about their business. The well-kept, colorful storefronts were dull and dingy, most of them shuttered. Even the heavy, gray clouds seemed to crowd in on the two brothers.
Alex forgot his beef with Oliver and sidled in closer to him. Oliver wrapped a protective arm around his little brother's shoulders and set off in the direction of Katie's flat.
oOo
"Blimey! You're short!" Alex exclaimed when the door was opened by a pretty, blond girl.
She laughed. "Well, he inherited the Wood charm, I see."
Oliver elbowed Alex roughly before kissing the girl. Alex had seen Katie's picture in Oliver's room before, he'd known her the moment she opened the door, but the kiss confirmed it. And that was exactly as gross as he thought it would be.
"Oi! You're going to get a crick in your neck!" Alex whinged.
Oliver pulled away, took a deep breath, hitched his thumb in Alex's direction and announced, "The pain in the arse is my brother, Alex." He gave Alex a dark look. "This is Katie."
She looked like a Katie, Alex decided. All kind of sweet and chipper with a 1000-wand smile. She was at least an inch shorter than him and he thought that must be the best thing about her. Although, his brother had glanced at her boobs five times already since they walked in the door, so Alex guessed that Oliver did not agree with him on Katie's best attribute.
"Do you boys want something to eat before we get started?" Katie asked, leading the way to the small kitchen. "I have cereal."
"No," Oliver started, "Mum made breakfast—"
"Sure!" Alex interjected. He'd had three helpings at home, but cereal was like eating sweets. It was rarely offered and never passed up. He grinned stupidly when he saw that Katie had the sugary kind with marshmallows. She'd just risen about three pegs in his estimation.
While Alex wolfed down several bowls full of cereal, he watched Katie and Oliver in the kitchen. There was a lot of touching and smiling. It reminded him of Catriona and Dougal or Mum and Dad when they were in a good mood (or Dad drank too much fire whiskey). Katie transfigured a cake tin into a baking sheet, which was pretty neat. Oliver had brought the ingredients, shrunk down to fit in his pocket.
"So," Alex said between bites, "Oliver says you can't cook."
Oliver scowled at him, but Alex ignored that.
Katie smiled. "That is true, I'm afraid."
"Didn't your mum teach you?" Alex asked.
"My mum worked," Katie replied. "By the time she got home, she was too tired to do a proper meal. Usually she picked something up from the store and popped it into the microwave."
"What's a microwave?" Oliver asked, avoiding looking Katie in the eye.
"It's…kind of like an oven, only it's more for reheating food than cooking."
"Well," Alex interjected, "Mum can teach you to cook so that Ollie won't starve."
Oliver was scowling again, but Katie giggled.
"I'll remember that," she said.
"Are you ready?" Oliver asked, his voice hard. "Or were you planning to eat Katie out of house and home?"
Katie was scolding Oliver for being mean to his baby brother, but Alex just slurped the last of the milk out of his bowl loudly. Oliver's jaw clenched. Alex grinned.
"I'm finished," he announced.
Alex helped Oliver make the batter, although Oliver could use his wand now and that took some of the fun out of it. Mum used her wand to do all her serious baking, for biscuits and shortbreads that would be given as gifts, but she always did the chocolate chip biscuits the Muggle way, usually with Alex's help. When she did her Christmas baking, she always made the chocolate chip biscuits last, just for her lads.
"Haven't you ever made biscuits before?" Alex asked Katie, who was sitting on the opposite counter, watching the proceedings.
"A few times with my grandmum, but she was very old and died when I was little," Katie replied.
"Was she old like Dumbledore?"
She giggled. "Well, by Muggle standards, I suppose she was."
"What about your other grandparents?" Oliver asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.
Katie frowned. "Well, they were all quite old really. They all passed away before I left for Hogwarts."
"Granddad Wood died before I was born," Alex said.
"He fell off his broom," Oliver said solemnly. "Granny went to live with her sister on the Isle of Skye after."
"They are mental," Alex put in, earning a cuff upside the head from Oliver. "They have twenty cats."
"They have two Kneazles," Oliver replied, then said to Katie, "It must be rather peaceful to be an only child."
Alex looked wide eyed at Katie. "Are you an only child?"
"Yes," Katie said with a nod. "My parents were older when they married and only had lonely, old me."
"Do you want to wait until you're old until you get married?"
"Alex," Oliver warned.
"No," Katie answered, she was looking at her trainers. "I always fancied that I'd marry young. I want to have children while I'm young."
Oliver, Alex noted, was watching the spoon mix the batter rather intently.
"How many children do you want?" Alex asked.
"Oh," she said, making flustered motions with her hands. "I don't know. More than one. How's the batter coming?"
"I always felt like an only child," Alex said; now it was his turn to look at his trainers.
Oliver frowned at Alex, but it was Katie who spoke:
"I can understand that," she said kindly, sliding off the counter. "All your brothers were so much older and off to Hogwarts while you were growing up. Was it lonely?"
Alex stole a glance at Oliver. He'd upset his brother, he could tell. Oliver was really sensitive these days about Dougal and Fergus. Oliver wanted Alex to remember like he did, but Alex just didn't. He couldn't. They were never around.
Katie looked like she wanted to give Alex a hug, but Alex had had about as much as he could stand of sympathy. Let her give it to Oliver, he needed it more.
"May I have some more cereal, please?" Alex asked loudly before anyone else could say more.
"Of course," Katie replied.
Sitting up to the bar, Alex ate the cereal. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Katie stealing bites of batter as Oliver was measuring out spoonfuls on the baking sheet. He was telling her that story from this morning. The one about Oliver, Fergus and Alex making biscuits together for Mum. Oliver wanted Alex to remember because then it would be one more memory they shared of their brothers, but Alex didn't. How could he? He'd only been four at the time.
oOo
Alex was in the loo, thank Merlin. Oliver was taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around Katie and kiss her. He'd tried to remember how much he hated it when Dougal and Catriona would snog in front of him and keep the kissing to a minimum out of courtesy to Alex. But the little git was making it hard to be considerate when all Oliver wanted to do was shake him senseless.
"I'm sorry about my brother," he said to Katie, backing her against the counter.
"Don't be," she said, dragging one hand down his chest. "He's charming.'
"If by 'charming' you mean pain in the arse…"
"Don't be so hard on him," she scolded. There was a thoughtful look on her face. "I think he's angry at you."
Oliver sighed. "He's angry at everyone."
She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
"Give him time, love," she whispered.
oOo
"Oliver, Oliver, wake up."
Oliver was fast asleep in his bed at Red's Wood, but he came instantly awake at the shaking of his shoulder. Fear gripped him. Something was wrong. People only woke you in the middle of the night when something was wrong. His heart was beating hard and fast in his chest. He was having trouble catching his breath as he grabbed his wand off the bedside table.
"I remember."
"What?" Oliver asked, shaking his head to rid it of sleep. He realized, finally, that it was Alex standing at the bed.
"I remember," Alex said, his voice broke. "I said I didn't but I do."
Oliver sat up. "What are you talking about?"
"The biscuits!" Alex clutched Oliver's pajama shirt tightly. "I do remember. Fergus wanted to go up to the village to see some girl, but you wouldn't let him. You said you would tell Mum and Fergus called you a tattletale."
Oliver wrapped his hands around his brother's thin arms gingerly. The boy was trembling. Oliver's heartbeat was decreasing, but he was still anxious. He wondered if he should call Mum or maybe Catriona to help Alex. Oliver wasn't sure what his little brother needed, but Mum would know.
"That's right," Oliver found himself saying into the darkness.
"And the next day, Dougal came home," Alex continued. "Just Dougal, I don't know where Catriona was. Dougal said they were the best biscuits he'd ever had. We all went for a fly and Dougal let me ride on his broom with him. Remember?"
"I do," Oliver whispered.
"Then we came home and played Exploding Snap. Dougal taught me a trick with his wand to cheat without getting caught. We beat you and Fergus every time."
Oliver curled his lip in distaste. "I remember that too."
"I still use Dougal's trick," Alex admitted. "I beat the pants off Ernie every time and he can't figure out why. But I only use it on Ernie because Fergus always said—"
"We can't let the Macmillan cousins win," Oliver finished.
Alex started crying, his hand going tight in the fabric of Oliver's shirt. "I do remember," he said again. "I said I didn't, but I do. I do remember our brothers."
Oliver pulled Alex into his arms. He was sobbing now, his whole body shaking with it. Tears came to Oliver's eyes too. He couldn't put words to what had just happened, but he knew it was good. The dam had broken for Alex and maybe things would be better for his brother now. Oliver rubbed Alex's back, holding him fiercely with his other arm.
When the tears had passed, the brothers lay in Oliver's bed together, the older one on his back, the younger curled up nearby. Oliver wondered if he should say something to his brother, but decided against it. He'd said plenty in the last months and none of it had made a difference; now was the time to be quiet and let time heal the hurt. He reached out in the dark and squeezed his little brother's hand.
oOo
August 2
Red's Wood
Oliver was a creature of habit, so despite the lack of sleep, he was still up for his morning fly and Campbell duty. Recently, Mum had started rising early again. She was often in the kitchen by the time he returned from his fly and had breakfast on by the time Oliver had Campbell fed and Dad returned from his own morning fly.
"I reckon the Hogwarts owl should be arriving with Alex's book list any day now," Mum commented, bouncing the baby on her hip as her menfolk ate.
There was resignation in Mum's voice, as if she understood that life marched on whether she was ready for it to do so or not. Oliver thought maybe this was a good time to broach the subject of his returning to his own flat. He'd gotten an owl from Puddlemere stating that training would resume in a week.
Before Oliver could speak, an owl flew through the window, dropping the Daily Prophet onto a platter of sausages. Dad muttered under his breath as he shooed the blighted bird away. For as long as Oliver could remember, the Prophet owls had disturbed breakfast in just the same way every morning. Mum was smirking at Dad's irritation, surreptitiously handing the owl a treat before it departed.
"What's this?" Dad demanded, his face pale, as he scanned the front page of the paper.
Mum edged closer to Dad, her face worried. "What's wrong, Cal?"
"Says here that Scrimgeour resigned." Dad shook his head. "I knew Rufus at school-he was two years ahead of me-and there is no way he would resign of his own free will. Stubborn as an old boot, he is. He would have to be forced out."
An ominous silence fell amongst Oliver and his parents. They all knew what such an implication meant: Death Eaters in the Ministry. Oliver's heart rate kicked up wondering if Percy was safe. He stood abruptly from the table and strode to the door.
"Where are you going?" Mum demanded, her voice panicked.
"To see Percy," Oliver answered, hand on the doorknob. "To see if…"
He's alive.
"To find out what he knows about Scrimgeour," Oliver finished.
Mum looked ready to protest, but Dad put a hand on her wrist to stop her. "Be safe," he said simply.
A/N2: I posted the first chapter of The Year of the Weasley Scarves today! Be on the lookout for a collection of outtakes and drabbles that have to do with Pictures of You. I'll post is separately from this story and it will be random things that are either drabbles I was writing for practice or scenes that didn't get included in this story. I will warn you, however, they are self-edited (read: messy).
