Hey yo I wrote an almost smutty fic because I am rereading Prisoner of Azkaban and was like oh no Oliver, drowning in the showers. What if a bb showed up and was like comfort sex. But I didn't actually fully write sex yet . . .more to come. Thanks.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
"I understand how important Quidditch is to you, especially because you're in your final year. But there's other things to focus on," Elanor began, leaning back against her chair in the library.
Oliver huffed, crossed his arms, and stared at the Ravenclaw. "Like what?"
"You're in seventh year!"
"Meaning, this is my last year to win the Cup. It's all I'm worth right now. We have the best team, no offense, but we have three great Chasers, the Weasley's, and Harry fuckin' Potter. We should be able to win this," Oliver insisted, pushing his books across the table. "Plus, you're in your sixth year. Why should you care?"
"First of all, I'm caring because you should be. Second of all, learning is important, you have your N.E.W.T.s in the spring. Third of all -"
"I don't have to take those. I just really need to make it to the end of the year, with a winning team! That's all I need to do! Practices three times a week, run them through routines, maneuvers, preparations to beat Slytherin in the first match, and then Ravenclaw - sorry again - and then Hufflepuff. Easy."
"Then why did you agree to meet in the library?" A half smirk, which caused Elanor to blush and glance down at her textbooks. "Okay, come on. Professor Flitwick is having us write another paper and I can't afford to lose time on it."
"Maybe you shouldn't take your N.E.W.T.s either. It makes life, and school, a whole lot more interesting. 3D is open, I hear."
"And so do all the hall monitors, Flinch, his cat, Percy, all the teachers, anyone that's ever snogged there before, their mum's, dad's, You-Know-Who, all the teachers," she started listing, looking around for the librarian to yell at them. "What I'm saying if you want to snog, you need to think of someplace else, Oliver. Or Wood is just going to stay your last name."
He let out a hearty laugh, echoing off the bookshelves and causing a "ssh" to come right back. "No laughing!" Pince shrilled, coming rapidly around the corner.
"Sorry, ma'am. There was an interesting bit of information in Ms. Esp's charms book," Oliver said, smiling that damn smile of his.
"Keep it quiet, then." And the librarian was gone back to her labyrinth of a home, wandering the shelves and hushing anyone else that dared speak up.
"And, no, I don't want to go to one of the unused bathrooms again. It was uncomfortable," Elanor hissed.
"You're just mad that you slipped, and we still don't know if it was pee or just water!" Another snicker, and Elanor quickly thumped him with her roll of parchment.
"It wasn't funny!"
"Fine. Lost Wands? Nobody's there around this time. Plus the only person that loses things is Longbottom, that third year, and he never thinks to check there."
"You owe me, Wood. You owe me one whole essay's worth of things," she stated, gathering her things and putting them away. "You owe me two Butterbeers, a new hair pin, a nice tea, and a whole essay's worth of things."
"Quit keeping track," he said, standing up and pulling her chair out, kissing her neck and grabbing her bag. "It makes me look like a bad boyfriend."
Snatching her bag back, Elanor pushed her chair in and pointed a finger at him. "That's because you're not my boyfriend. That's not a thing, Oliver. I thought we talked about this." Her voice was raising, and she stood against the table they were just at.
A pout, another loud ssh from across the library. Oliver glared in Pince's general direction and ushered Elanor out the library. "I'm just saying, with my seventh year coming to a close -"
"It's just October, Wood. You have months."
At the start of the walkway up to the Lost Wands room, Oliver stood in front of her to make her stop. "I'm just saying, that if you want, when I graduate and go off to be a great Quidditch player, on one of the greatest teams - because I'm on it, of course, we can, keep in touch."
A sigh, and Elanor leaned back against the staircase as it shuddered, swirling around to face another side of the castle. "What do you want from me, Oliver? Because you act like both. You act like you want me in a relationship with you, and then you step back at the very thought of being seen in public with me. Do you want me to be just yours, no other snogging with other people? Because you were fine with it before this year - at least I thought so. And then when it came towards me being with one of the girls on the Ravenclaw team -"
"It was Cho Chang! Elanor! You made out with fuckin' Cho Chang!" She turned away from him, starting back up the stairs and away from where the Lost Wands room was. Elanor wasn't blushing, but her face was red red red from anger. Obviously, a sore subject. Before, Elanor's stomach had been bubbly from the anxiety of being alone with Oliver, with the images of his hands touching her and them being so close and - and then he mentioned Cho and her stomach had gotten worse worse worse.
She stomped up the stairs, making her way towards the Ravenclaw Common Room. Her mind had shoved Oliver out of the room, off the staircase, and she had moved her thoughts towards her Charms essay. Oliver was still behind her, huffing and trying to think of something that wasn't - wasn't so cruel and simple minded.
"It's not that you made out with someone else," he started, spiriting up the stairs and catching her on a landing. There were portraits staring at them, whispering to each other. Elanor glared straight at one of the milkmaids behind her, and they blushed and got back to milking.
"Was it because it was a girl?" She had already had this conversation with herself, with her mother. And she didn't want to have this with him.
"No! It was because she's on the Ravenclaw team! It would be like if you snogged Diggory, or Malfoy, or the Weasleys."
"Oh, so you just have a monopoly on the Quidditch teams?" She smirked, eyeing how his fingers twitched and grabbed her upper arm, not too hard. He squeezed and smiled back at her.
"I do have a monopoly on who you kiss, if it involves Quidditch. What if you give away my tactics, my plans?" Elanor rolled her eyes at him, the grin widening. She grabbed his hip and pulled him closer to her, kissing him quickly on the lips and pushing him back away.
"Your plans are straight out of the beginner's book, Wood." And she patted him on the arm and walked away.
The match wasn't a devastating defeat, but once those dementors walked onto the field, the game was over. Through the rain and wind and noise, she could see Harry Potter fall and Oliver's face with him. She could see them all chase down after him, as if they could fall faster, but Headmaster Dumbledore slowed Harry's fall and chased and screamed and yelled away the dementors.
All the Gryffindor's walked into the locker room, and Elanor lingered behind in the stands, watching and counting to see everyone except Oliver leave. The Weasley's saw her lingering, just out of view from everyone else, and ran up to her.
"We were going to visit Harry in the hospital wing -" one started, exasperated from the recent events. It was still pelting rain and wind, and Elanor squinted at the twins to see them clearly.
"But I think someone should stay with Oliver."
"Is he okay?" Not dating, not dating not dating not not not, she reminded herself. Just concerned.
"He's still in the showers -"
"We think he's trying to drown himself."
"Oh, that's not good," Elanor said, starting towards the entrance. "Is - I didn't think he would act this bad. I mean, I thought he would be mad at himself but not -"
"We'll send Harry your wishes, Elanor. Comfort that sad sad Wood boy." Both twins laughing, they rushed right back up the hill to the castle, and, slowly, Elanor made her way into the locker rooms, a place she had been a handful of times with Oliver. It was mostly dark, the lights almost all turned off. It was cold, and steamy, and Elanor was still shaken from the dementors, but she heard Oliver in the shower room and followed the noises.
"Stupid! I should have made sure with Dumbledore, Hooch, anyone that the dementors wouldn't take the field! Think, Wood! Think! You let Hufflepuff win! Cedric! You let him catch the Snitch!" There were thumps amongst the running water, and Elanor assumed he had just punched the tile wall.
"Oliver?" she asked, turning the corner just before the showers. She was still wearing her raincoat and jeans underneath, a sweater pulled tight against her gloveless hands. Elanor knocked on the wall, looking through the steam. Oliver was standing, both hands propped up against the wall, head leaned against the wall as well. Water was dripping from most of the shower heads. Normally a very large presence, Oliver seemed small against all the steam, and his emotions right now were not normal. He was dejected, mad, angry, ready to fight.
"Oliver. Are you okay?" Elanor asked against, louder than before. Wood whipped around quickly, slipping on the tile, and falling straight on his behind with a shout. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, running into the room and slipping her way over to where Oliver had sat up, rubbing his back a little but laughing.
"You gave me a good scare there, Elanor!" His fists were red, his eyes were red, but he still smiled at her. She sat down next to him, the water drenching her through her clothes. The Ravenclaw placed her hand on his bare thigh and looked up at him, smiling a sincere look. She did not look at his bare body, because now was not the time to look at his penis, nor touch it, nor bring up the not dating bit.
He was silent for a long time, and placed his hand on hers but did not speak.
Finally, Elanor said, "It's just a loss. You guys can still win the cup! You just have to win against Ravenclaw and Slytherin! Right?"
"We can't beat your team, you guys are too good. But if Slytherin loses to Hufflepuff, maybe. It's kind of tight, the points." He tried to smile, moving his eyes to his left fist, the small drips of blood that pooled onto the tiles.
"Hey. Look at me, Oliver," Elanor said, moving his face to look at her. She pushed his chin up. "Chin up! Look forward. There's still the rest of the year. You guys can do it!"
He tried to smile, and his throat choked up. "You're killing me, Esp. Killing me. Came in here when I fell in all clothes to comfort me. You know how to make a man smile."
"And you know how to take clothes off. We both know that." Elanor's stomach bounced, jittery and alive with how Oliver was leaning into the hand that now touched his cheek, leaning towards her, squeezing and moving her other hand down down down his thigh.
"Here?" she breathed, kissing his neck and his cheeks and, slowly, his lips.
"Hooch is probably in a meeting with Dumbledore. Diggory wanted a rematch, didn't think it was fair - the dementors, Harry falling." He moaned as Elanor sucked deep on his collar bone, both of their hands fiddling with Elanor's drenched clothes.
"She's probably seen this before." Oliver laughed, bringing forth a memory less melancholy than this. "She's caught us before."
"Get the - get the - get the button undone," he huffed, moving her so that she was laying down, that he was on top of her. He was kissing her neck, and grabbing roughly at her hips and trying, and failing to undo the button on her pants. Shirt pulled up, pants off, hands everywhere. Her heart leapt into her throat, and he kissed it, sensing her anxiety and her need and his need and grabbed her wrist when she reached down towards her panties.
He smirked, which she couldn't see, and pinned her hand down into a pool of water. She sighed, looking down as he kissed kissed kissed down her bare chest, other hand massaging a breast and mouth moving towards a nipple and - "ooh."
"I didn't mean the thing about Cho," Oliver mumbled into her breast.
"Now? You're going to talk about this now, Oliver?" He pulled back from her, looked at her eyes, and nodded his head.
"I just think. I just think we should talk about this before we go any further." He gestured between their two wet and naked bodies, at her clothes scattered throughout the shower room.
"What do you want? Like, end goals? Life goals?" She sat up on her elbows, staring at his straddled form above her. "From this. From us."
"I like what we do. Between us. The dynamic. It's like riding a broomstick -"
"That's supposed to be my line. The broomstick line," Elanor said, smiling down at his penis against her thigh.
"I'm trying to be serious, here."
"Sorry, go ahead."
"I meant, that the way I feel around you, like when we go to Hogsmeade, or when we're at the library, or last summer, or here, I guess. It feels like a broomstick. Like a steep drop where it feels like my heart is leaving my body but bam, you're there."
"I'm the . . .broomstick?"
"Yeah. You catch me when I fall but you also make my heart go up in my throat," Oliver said, sitting back and grabbing her legs so they were across his lap. "Yeah. I guess you're the broomstick in this one."
She giggled, leaned back on the ground fully, and said, "Can't believe I'm the broomstick and I don't even have a stick. But yeah, you do that to me. Not the steep drop. But you make my heart go wild and catch me."
"Are we okay?" Oliver asked, moving back atop her, staring down into her blue eyes and moving her wet hair out of her face. She nodded. "Are we together? Do I get to pay you back for the two Butterbeers, a new hair pin, a nice tea, and a Charms essay? Or are we even?"
"Definitely not even, but you can work on paying me back after this." She pushed him over, turning him onto his back so she was the one straddling him. "I think I owe you some comfort from earlier. From losing the match, I mean." Before he could say another word, Elanor pushed her lips against his, moving his hands to grab her back, kissing him and thinking about the rest of the year and kissing kissing kissing.