Chapter Twelve: Control
"It is difficult, when faced with a situation you cannot control, to admit you can do nothing."
― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid
I always thought of myself as someone who needed to control a situation. I am always in control of what's happening around me. I am a Quidditch Captain and Chaser for a very specific reason. That reason being I cannot sit around and wait. I have to be the one going after what I want.
Keepers wait for the Chasers to come at them with a Quaffle. Seekers fly around looking for the stupid Snitch as it evades them. Beaters… well, they get off on trying to knock people off their brooms, and I won't get into their crazy heads. As Captain, I make the plans. I control every player on my team as best as I can. If they don't follow my plays, I can punish them.
In academics, I can look at the problem and solve it. I can control the outcome of my spells and potions because I can follow the rules carefully. (We'll stay away from Astronomy for the moment because that is another beast entirely, and honestly, it defies all rules that keep Dani in the sane state she prefers to be in… Oh Merlin, I'm talking about myself in the third person. Somebody help me.)
Suffice it to say, I need control.
I stand in front of the door leading to the locker rooms at six in the morning. I stand in front of the door leading to the locker rooms cursing myself for opening my big mouth. Why couldn't I just let him walk away? Why did my traitorous hands have to royally screw me over? Why, oh why am I even here? I sigh and let my chin drop to my chest. I hate myself right now. I could have slept a few hours longer.
"Starting the self-loathing a bit early, aren't we?" comes Oliver's grating voice. Yes, grating. Any voice at this unholy hour is considered grating.
"Good morning to you, too," I grumble.
"You sleep all right, love?"
"Again with you and the sleeping. I wasn't serious about you being my replacement Jack."
"Sure you weren't."
"I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me 'love'. You know I don't like it."
He smirks and closes the space between us. "I thought we talked about your lying."
I frown at him, putting my hands onto his abdomen and pushing him backward. "We've never talked about my lying. And for the record, I don't lie."
"I think we should talk about it. You lie as easily as you breathe and it's very unbecoming."
"We aren't moving on to my supposed lying habit until we discuss your inability to stop calling me 'love'. That is something far more important to talk about. And while we're at it, can we run around the pitch? That's what we're here for, right?"
"Anything you want, Dani," he says in a low, seductive voice. As much as I'd like to say it had no effect, I'd be lying. And as I just told him I don't lie, I don't when I admit this to myself.
"What I want is to warm up. It's a little chilly standing here in the shade."
He steps up close to me and puts his hands on my hips. "I can think of several ways to warm you up."
I make a show of rolling my eyes. "I can think of several ways to ensure you don't play Quidditch for the rest of the year. How would you like that?"
"If we're thinking on the same lines, then I think I'll gladly give up Quidditch for that."
My brain stutters. Literally my brain trips over itself and by some miracle I keep breathing. Oliver Wood just admitted he'd give up Quidditch. Who cares about the bloody reason or what he thinks I'm implying. Oliver "Quidditch Obsessed" Wood just admitted he'd willingly give up Quidditch. Willingly!
"I doubt we're thinking on the same lines, but humor me. What would it take for you to give up Quidditch?"
"You admitting you're in love with me." He says it so casually that I almost believe him. He'd give up the Quidditch Cup if I would admit it…
Oh, the bastard.
He's better than I give him credit for… as much as it behooves me to admit, even if I'm only doing so in my head.
I run my hands up his chest to clasp around his neck. I move to the balls of my feet to better look him in the eye.
"If you think I'll give up that easily, you need help." I push him back from me forcefully.
I walk into the locker rooms and move through the corridor. Oliver catches up and throws his arm around my shoulders.
"Are you still mad that I hit you with an ink stopper?"
My eyes flare wide. I reach up to touch the back of my head. "You hit me with an ink stopper? That's what hit me?"
Oliver chuckles and puts his hand over mine on the back of my head. He threads his fingers through mine. "You worry too much."
"About what? What could I possibly be worrying about?" I ask pulling my fingers away from his.
"I don't think anyone could tell there was ink in your hair anyway."
"And why is that?"
"Because it's six in the morning and the only person you're going to meet out here is me."
"And the only person I want to meet is not you."
He leans his head down so his mouth is near my ear. "Then why did you meet me here?"
"I didn't meet you here. I came here to run."
His gives me that smile… the one that's so brilliant my breath catches. "Only after agreeing to run with me."
I curse under my breath. I hate it when he's right. "Have I mentioned today that I hate you?"
"Not yet, but it's only-" he looks down at his watch "-a quarter after six. You've got all day to convince me."
"I've got an entire lifetime to do that."
"Oh, love, I didn't realize we were that committed to each other."
"There is not 'we'."
"You just said that you plan to spend your life convincing me you hate me."
"And what are you planning on doing during that time? Convincing me that you love me?"
He breaths a laugh and pulls me closer, tucking me into his side. And damn him, he's so warm, the ice on my skin begins to melt. "I plan to spend most of it convincing you that you love me."
"Well, this is making me uncomfortable." I give a half-hearted attempt to push him away from me. I don't put my all into it because he's so warm. I sigh when he doesn't budge.
"Admit you're in love with me and no one is going to get hurt this year," he says quietly.
"No one is going to get hurt anyway."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because you can't make a girl fall in love with you by the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor match."
"And you can make some hapless bloke fall in love with you in that time?"
"Yes, I can."
He shook his head and dropped his arm from my shoulder as we entered the pitch. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"
"Just remember you have until the Gryffindor-Slytherin match to decide."
"I've already decided, but I think I'll wait until the match to tell you."
"What? Why are you waiting? If you already know, then you have to tell me."
"The contract says I only have to tell you by the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. It never stated I have to tell you before then."
"The match is only two months away. I'll know who you've decided by then anyway." I start stretching my cold muscles and try to ignore the presence of one Oliver Wood.
A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is so short. This week has not been kind to me. I got a new job and promptly became sick... awesome right? That said, because I now work on weekends, my updates may not come on Sundays. I am going to try my hardest to get a chapter up every week; I just can't promise that Sunday will be the day I update.
Also, big thanks to Spazaroni, WMaldonado89, and spannieren for reviewing! Your comments make me smile whenever I log on. :)
I hope everyone has a lovely week! Thank you for reading!