*Chapter Three*
Rachel smiled as she ran a brush through her hair later that night. Oliver and
herself had just finished having a cup of tea, and she'd come up to bed. He really was fun
to talk to.
Wasn't a bad kisser either.
Not bad at all.
It was a shame one of them would absolutely loathe the other when Puddlemere
United got back to them.
"Ninety eight...ninety nine...one hundred."
Normally, she wouldn't bother with the one-hundred-strokes-a-night thing, but she
had nothing better to do. She'd also been attempting to get her mind off Oliver, but it
wasn't really working.
It wasn't as though it was actually a real relationship, or as if he was anything
special. It was just that he seemed to have a boyish glow to him that was oddly
refreshing. None of her previous boyfriends had been like that-they'd all been serious,
sarcastic. Too much like herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come in," she called, hoping that a certain Quidditch obsessed, devilishly
good-looking guy would enter.
No such luck. Instead, Callen entered wearing a rather grim expression.
"Hey stranger," Rachel greeted her with a bright grin.
"What do you think you're doing?" Callen asked coolly.
"Well...last time I checked, I was sitting in a chair talking to a girl named Callen
who seems just the tiniest bit ticked off at the moment," Rachel said.
"Funny," Callen snapped. "Seriously, WHAT are you doing?"
"Must we go through this again?"
"Don't play dumb. With OLIVER."
"Nooothing," Rachel said innocently.
"Oh, sure, like I'm going to believe that," Callen said sarcastically. "I saw you kiss
him, you know."
"So? Is it illegal or something?"
"Well, maybe it should be when you're CLEARLY just leading him on and having
a little fun, and then there's a great chance you're gonna take away the thing he's wanted
FOREVER and break his heart!" Callen practically yelled, her breathing irregular and
face reddening in anger.
"Whoa, Cal, chill-"
"I will not 'chill', Rachel! Why the bloody hell are you doing this?"
"Maybe I'm not just leading him on, did you ever consider that?"
"Oh, I'm SURE you're already planning your wedding," Callen snapped. "I READ
the letters you sent me back when you were at school, Rachel. You had a different
boyfriend every week! You wrote, and I quote, 'It's so fun, messing with their puny little
minds like this.' I am NOT letting you do that to Oliver!"
"And if I WAS messing with his mind, which I'm not saying I am, then what
would YOU do about it?"
"I would tell you to get the hell out of my house and don't ever come back,"
Callen said, her voice cold as ice. "And don't EVER talk to my brother again."
"Well, I suppose it's a good thing I'm not messing around with his mind, then,"
Rachel said, shrugging and turning back to study her reflection in the mirror.
"But that doesn't mean you're not going to break his heart. So I think it would be
best if you left."
"And go WHERE?" Rachel asked, staring at Callen in the mirror. "You KNOW
my parents think I'm out here getting a job and making a living and becoming some
incredibly successful young woman. I can't just go back to them, tail between legs."
"You have other friends," Callen said coldly. She gave her one last glare, then
turned and left the room.
~*~
"Is everything all right, Cal? I thought I heard yelling," Oliver said, coming out of
his room to inspect the situation.
"Everything's fine now," Callen replied shortly.
"What do you mean now?" Oliver asked, suspicious.
"Never mind," Callen said, then disappeared into her bedroom.
"Rachel," Oliver muttered under his breath, then immediately went over to the
guest room and swung open the door. Sure enough, it was empty.
"God, Callen, what did you do?" Oliver shouted. "Where is she?"
"NOTHING," Callen yelled back.
"Oh, I'm gonna believe that," Oliver said angrily, storming into his sister's room.
She sat in bed, a book in her hands.
"Yes?" she asked, looking up at him innocently.
"What the HELL did you DO?" Oliver shouted.
"Calm down, you're going to wake the whole neighborhood."
"SCREW the neighborhood! What did you DO to her??"
"It's for the best, Oli, she would have broken your heart anyway-"
"BLOODY HELL, what did you SAY to her?"
"Nothing, nothing," Callen said quickly, leaning back against her pillows as he
inched menacingly closer to her. "She just...it wouldn't have worked, Oli, she goes
through men like tissues-"
"You can't just make this okay by trying to convince me she's some little slut or
something!"
"OLIVER, I never said that-"
"You're implying it! Now WHERE is she?"
"I'm not telling you anything," Callen said calmly, her gaze returning to her book.
"It's for the best."
Anger surging through his body, Oliver did the first thing that came to
mind-pulled his wand out of his pocket.
"WHERE...IS...SHE?" he repeated.
Callen looked up, obviously startled. She glared at him.
"Tell me or I'll..." Oliver made a violent gesture with his wand in the air to
illustrate his point.
"You WOULDN'T."
"Are you sure about that?" Oliver asked, stepping closer.
"You WOULDN'T."
"Oh, wouldn't I?"
"You WOULDN'T."
"Okay, okay, I wouldn't," Oliver said crossly, putting his wand back into his
pocket. "But...just tell me, please?"
"Oli, it wouldn't work out. If one of you gets the Keeper position, it will be over.
Either way, she'll just forget about you. You're better off without her. Get a nice girl, one
who...I don't know, paints her fingernails pink and wears her hair in ringlets and doesn't
swear and-"
"I don't WANT someone like that!" Oliver exclaimed.
"You've only known Rachel for a DAY, Oliver," Callen reminded him. "I've
known her for six years. You don't know what she's like-"
"I know well enough," Oliver said. "And I'm sure about this...Cal, PLEASE?"
Callen sighed. "Oli, I don't know where she went. I just...kind of...kicked her out."
Much as Oliver would have loved to stay and yell at his sister, he could tell from
the expression on her face that she really couldn't deal with it. Instead, he left without a
word and went back into the guest room. Maybe she'd left something...a note telling
where she was going...
Sure enough, he spotted a piece of paper on the white bedspread. He picked it up
and read:
Hi Oli,
Okay, it's been great and all, but Cal seems REALLY mad, and I...just don't want
to make her any angrier. Plus, it wouldn't work anyway. I'll miss you though. You're
something else.
Rachel
P.S. I'll be in Diagon Alley. Just in case.
~*~
It was amazing, how much could happen in a day, Rachel reflected as she stepped
into The Leaky Cauldron. She couldn't believe that on that very morning, she'd been
standing in Oliver's kitchen, belting out the Puddlemere United theme song. It seemed
like another lifetime.
"Can I get you anything?" the bartender asked her with a toothless smile as Rachel
slid onto one of the stools.
"Sure...something strong," Rachel replied with a moan, then put her head in her
hands. Only SHE could truly mess up so badly in one day.
"Comin' right up," the bartender said.
"Great," Rachel said. Sure enough, seconds later, an acid green drink in a shot
glass was placed in front of her. It appeared to be smoking at first glance, but when she
blinked, it no longer was. She hoped it was just her imagination. Rachel had never been
much of a drinker-or a drinker at all, in fact, but there was a first time for everything.
Anything that would get her mind off of the royal mess that was her life.
Wrinkling her nose, she picked up the glass and rose it slowly to her lips, then
took a teeny sip. She swallowed quickly, and it left a burning sensation in her throat.
"That strong enough for ya?" the bartender asked with another smile.
"Yeah," Rachel barely managed to croak.
She took another sip-it actually wasn't bad.
"So...what in life causes you to need such a strong drink?" the bartender asked as
he wiped off the bar with a damp cloth.
"Long story or short?"
"Whatever you want to tell."
Rachel took another, this time rather large, sip, then continued to talk. "Short,
then. Went to visit a friend, had a strange encounter with said friend's rather attractive
brother, found out that I was trying out for the same Quidditch position as rather
attractive brother of said friend, fell for attractive brother of said friend, got accused by
said friend of leading on attractive brother of said friend, and got kicked out by said
friend without being able to say goodbye to attractive brother of said friend."
"I'm glad I didn't ask for the long version," the bartender chuckled.
"So am I," Rachel downed the last of the drink. "Because frankly, I'm too
exhausted to tell you."
"Want another drink?" the bartender asked.
"Sure," Rachel handed him the shot glass. Whatever that stuff was, she liked
it...she felt a bit more relaxed already.
Rachel downed the next drink in two sips, and the bartender gave her another as
she began to give him the long story.
"Well, you see-" hiccup! "-I always wanted-" hiccup! "-to be a singer, like the next
Celes-" hiccup! "-tina Warbeck, you know? But my parents-" hiccup! "-don't like that
idea very-" hiccup! "-much. My dad always-" hiccup! "-wanted me to be a-" hiccup! "-pro
Quidditch player. So then I-" hiccup! "-Got this letter from Muddlepere United-"
Rachel paused to take a long sip of her fourth drink and stared in confusion at the
bartender as he laughed heartily.
SHE didn't see anything funny about it.
~*~
"Where ARE you?" Oliver muttered under his breath as he exited Quality
Quidditch Supplies. He'd already checked Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, the only two places next to Quality Quidditch
Supplies that were left open that late at night. Both Mr. Fortescue, who had been
straightening up and preparing to close, and Madam Malkin, who had been fitting robes
on an older witch, hadn't seen her.
Where IS she? he thought desperately, his gaze sweeping across Diagon Alley.
His eyes fell upon The Leaky Cauldron. Even if she wasn't there, he could use a
butterbeer.
As he entered the pub, the bells on the door jingled to announce his entrance. A
slender female figure was slumped over the bar, golden hair draped over her face and a
glass of some sort of bright green drink in her hand.
"Rachel," he muttered.
The bartender, Tom, was staring at her with a mixture of amusement and concern
as she spoke. Her words were slurred and often interrupted by hiccups.
"And I-" hiccup! "-can't understand whyee has this affect on me, ya know?"
hiccup! "-I have half a mind to go back there-" hiccup! "-and grab 'im and just kiss 'im, ya
know?"
Oliver blushed as the few other people in the pub stared at her, not hiding their
disgust.
"Yeah, he's a REALLY good kisser-" hiccup! "Even though I on'y kissed 'im
like...four...no...five-" hiccup! "-times, ya know, but it was like WOW!" hiccup!
Oliver wished that the floor would open up and swallow him whole, and he
wanted nothing more than to just turn around and leave, but he knew he couldn't do that.
"And more coulda happened, ya know-" hiccup! "-but then there was-" hiccup!
"-the whole thing with his sister, which kinda sucked ya know, 'cause-" hiccup! "-he is
REALLY-"
"RACHEL!" Oliver shouted.
She turned around and looked at him. It took a few seconds before her eyes lit up
in recognition, but once she did a huge, dopey smile spread across her face.
"Oli!" she exclaimed, holding out her arms. "C'mere!"
"Oh Lord," Oliver muttered under his breath, but walked over and gave her a
quick hug. Tom stared at him in amusement and gave him a wink.
"Will you be taking her off my hands, now?"
"Yeah," Oliver mumbled. "Sorry..."
"It's perfectly fine, son," Tom said. "She was...interesting."
"Can I just get a hotel room?" Oliver asked.
Tom raised an eyebrow at him, and Oliver blushed again.
"No, no, not like...THAT...it's not like I...NO, not at all, it's just...she needs to
sleep, and..."
"All right, all right," Tom said, handing him a key. "Room 13 is open."
"Thank you," Oliver said, then attempted to pull away Rachel, who was still
holding onto him for dear life. She didn't resist-instead, she finished off the drink on the
counter.
"This-" hiccup! "-stuff is great-" hiccup! "-you should try-" hiccup! "-some, Oli!"
"No thanks," Oliver said. "Now, we're going to walk upstairs, okay? Do you think
you can get that far?"
"Of course! I can-" hiccup! "-walk fine," Rachel said, standing up and
immediately stumbling forward. Oliver put out his arms and caught her before she fell
and cracked her head open on the floor.
Though perhaps it would sober her up a bit if she did so.
"Sorry, sorry, I can walk," Rachel said, then hiccuped.
"Maybe I should help-"
"I CAN WALK!" Rachel screamed at the top of her lungs.
"All right, then," Oliver said meekly, staring at the floor. He looked up as Rachel
took a few steps forward and walked directly into a chair. She flipped over it and landed
on the floor.
"You're not walking," Oliver announced.
"But I can-"
"No you CAN'T," Oliver said firmly. He then proceeded to pick her up in his
arms, Prince-Charming and Cinderella-style. Only Prince Charming had had it
easy-Cinderella hadn't been completely and totally drunk.
"This is so-" hiccup! "-romantic!" Rachel said with a high, shrill giggle that
seemed wrong to be coming out of her, of all people's mouths.
"Yeah, it's wonderful," Oliver said dryly. He could hear the people in the pub
chuckling merrily as Oliver climbed the rickety stairs up to the hotel rooms.
When he finally reached theirs, which was oh-so-conveniently located at the end
of the hall, he felt as if he'd just attended an all-day Quidditch practice. He fumbled to
unlock the door, then practically ran in and dropped Rachel onto the bed. She giggled
again with a totally-the-opposite-of-herself "Whee!"
"Whee," Oliver echoed sarcastically, sitting down on the foot of the bed trying to
catch his breath.
"You know, Oli," Rachel said in a sing-songy voice. "I-" hiccup! "-never felt the
way about a-" hiccup! "-guy that I do-" hiccup! "-about you. And I've only-" hiccup!
"-known you for, like, a day! Isn't that-" hiccup! "-crazy?"
"It's crazy all right," Oliver said, knowing better than to believe any of her words.
He'd never seen anyone this horribly drunk-it even beat the time when Callen went way
overboard on the wine at their uncle's wedding a few years back. And she had been
DRUNK.
"You know-" hiccup! "-what, Oli?"
"What?" Oliver asked.
"I think-" hiccup! "-I love-" hiccup! "-you."
"Hey, whatever happened to if you say I love you I'll punch you?" Oliver asked,
forcing a smile.
"Huh?" Rachel asked, dazed.
"Oh, never mind," Oliver said. "It's just that...I shouldn't even be listening to you,
because tomorrow morning you're going to be back to normal, and you're going to regret
that you ever said anything. So maybe it would be better if you just shut up. No offense or
anything."
Rachel, however, ignored his words and began to sing. Her voice was still perfect,
even in her wasted state, though she hiccuped every once in a while.
"If I should stay, I would only be in the way. So I'll go, but I know I'll think of you
every step of the way..."
Oliver couldn't help but smile as she sang to him, but he couldn't turn around. If
he turned around, he knew he would just let himself fall completely for her, and then
everything would be even more of a mess.
If possible.
"And I will always love you."
He really wanted to turn around. To just look at her.
"I will always love you."
Maybe he could...just for a second, just to look at her really quickly.
"I-"
The springs on the bed suddenly squeaked, and he turned back to find that she'd
collapsed. He felt his pulse quicken-what if she was in a coma?
However, a few seconds later she began to snore.
"Okay, she's fine," Oliver muttered to himself. He grabbed the blanket that was
folded up at the end of the bed, shook it out, and placed it over her. As he watched her,
he couldn't help but smile...in spite of the fact that she was snoring louder than his father
ever had and that she smelled like she'd bathed in alcohol, she was still absolutely
beautiful.
He lowered his voice to a whisper.
"'Night, Rachel."
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize HP-wise belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling. "I
Will Always Love You" belongs to...not me. Dolly Parton, I think. Don't ask how Rachel
knows all these Muggle songs. She just...*does* :)
A/N: This chapter was lotsa fun to write-thanks to Rachel (the one who this story is for)
for the whole Rach-gets-drunk idea. :) Okey doke, wonderful people, now you can
review!
Rachel smiled as she ran a brush through her hair later that night. Oliver and
herself had just finished having a cup of tea, and she'd come up to bed. He really was fun
to talk to.
Wasn't a bad kisser either.
Not bad at all.
It was a shame one of them would absolutely loathe the other when Puddlemere
United got back to them.
"Ninety eight...ninety nine...one hundred."
Normally, she wouldn't bother with the one-hundred-strokes-a-night thing, but she
had nothing better to do. She'd also been attempting to get her mind off Oliver, but it
wasn't really working.
It wasn't as though it was actually a real relationship, or as if he was anything
special. It was just that he seemed to have a boyish glow to him that was oddly
refreshing. None of her previous boyfriends had been like that-they'd all been serious,
sarcastic. Too much like herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come in," she called, hoping that a certain Quidditch obsessed, devilishly
good-looking guy would enter.
No such luck. Instead, Callen entered wearing a rather grim expression.
"Hey stranger," Rachel greeted her with a bright grin.
"What do you think you're doing?" Callen asked coolly.
"Well...last time I checked, I was sitting in a chair talking to a girl named Callen
who seems just the tiniest bit ticked off at the moment," Rachel said.
"Funny," Callen snapped. "Seriously, WHAT are you doing?"
"Must we go through this again?"
"Don't play dumb. With OLIVER."
"Nooothing," Rachel said innocently.
"Oh, sure, like I'm going to believe that," Callen said sarcastically. "I saw you kiss
him, you know."
"So? Is it illegal or something?"
"Well, maybe it should be when you're CLEARLY just leading him on and having
a little fun, and then there's a great chance you're gonna take away the thing he's wanted
FOREVER and break his heart!" Callen practically yelled, her breathing irregular and
face reddening in anger.
"Whoa, Cal, chill-"
"I will not 'chill', Rachel! Why the bloody hell are you doing this?"
"Maybe I'm not just leading him on, did you ever consider that?"
"Oh, I'm SURE you're already planning your wedding," Callen snapped. "I READ
the letters you sent me back when you were at school, Rachel. You had a different
boyfriend every week! You wrote, and I quote, 'It's so fun, messing with their puny little
minds like this.' I am NOT letting you do that to Oliver!"
"And if I WAS messing with his mind, which I'm not saying I am, then what
would YOU do about it?"
"I would tell you to get the hell out of my house and don't ever come back,"
Callen said, her voice cold as ice. "And don't EVER talk to my brother again."
"Well, I suppose it's a good thing I'm not messing around with his mind, then,"
Rachel said, shrugging and turning back to study her reflection in the mirror.
"But that doesn't mean you're not going to break his heart. So I think it would be
best if you left."
"And go WHERE?" Rachel asked, staring at Callen in the mirror. "You KNOW
my parents think I'm out here getting a job and making a living and becoming some
incredibly successful young woman. I can't just go back to them, tail between legs."
"You have other friends," Callen said coldly. She gave her one last glare, then
turned and left the room.
~*~
"Is everything all right, Cal? I thought I heard yelling," Oliver said, coming out of
his room to inspect the situation.
"Everything's fine now," Callen replied shortly.
"What do you mean now?" Oliver asked, suspicious.
"Never mind," Callen said, then disappeared into her bedroom.
"Rachel," Oliver muttered under his breath, then immediately went over to the
guest room and swung open the door. Sure enough, it was empty.
"God, Callen, what did you do?" Oliver shouted. "Where is she?"
"NOTHING," Callen yelled back.
"Oh, I'm gonna believe that," Oliver said angrily, storming into his sister's room.
She sat in bed, a book in her hands.
"Yes?" she asked, looking up at him innocently.
"What the HELL did you DO?" Oliver shouted.
"Calm down, you're going to wake the whole neighborhood."
"SCREW the neighborhood! What did you DO to her??"
"It's for the best, Oli, she would have broken your heart anyway-"
"BLOODY HELL, what did you SAY to her?"
"Nothing, nothing," Callen said quickly, leaning back against her pillows as he
inched menacingly closer to her. "She just...it wouldn't have worked, Oli, she goes
through men like tissues-"
"You can't just make this okay by trying to convince me she's some little slut or
something!"
"OLIVER, I never said that-"
"You're implying it! Now WHERE is she?"
"I'm not telling you anything," Callen said calmly, her gaze returning to her book.
"It's for the best."
Anger surging through his body, Oliver did the first thing that came to
mind-pulled his wand out of his pocket.
"WHERE...IS...SHE?" he repeated.
Callen looked up, obviously startled. She glared at him.
"Tell me or I'll..." Oliver made a violent gesture with his wand in the air to
illustrate his point.
"You WOULDN'T."
"Are you sure about that?" Oliver asked, stepping closer.
"You WOULDN'T."
"Oh, wouldn't I?"
"You WOULDN'T."
"Okay, okay, I wouldn't," Oliver said crossly, putting his wand back into his
pocket. "But...just tell me, please?"
"Oli, it wouldn't work out. If one of you gets the Keeper position, it will be over.
Either way, she'll just forget about you. You're better off without her. Get a nice girl, one
who...I don't know, paints her fingernails pink and wears her hair in ringlets and doesn't
swear and-"
"I don't WANT someone like that!" Oliver exclaimed.
"You've only known Rachel for a DAY, Oliver," Callen reminded him. "I've
known her for six years. You don't know what she's like-"
"I know well enough," Oliver said. "And I'm sure about this...Cal, PLEASE?"
Callen sighed. "Oli, I don't know where she went. I just...kind of...kicked her out."
Much as Oliver would have loved to stay and yell at his sister, he could tell from
the expression on her face that she really couldn't deal with it. Instead, he left without a
word and went back into the guest room. Maybe she'd left something...a note telling
where she was going...
Sure enough, he spotted a piece of paper on the white bedspread. He picked it up
and read:
Hi Oli,
Okay, it's been great and all, but Cal seems REALLY mad, and I...just don't want
to make her any angrier. Plus, it wouldn't work anyway. I'll miss you though. You're
something else.
Rachel
P.S. I'll be in Diagon Alley. Just in case.
~*~
It was amazing, how much could happen in a day, Rachel reflected as she stepped
into The Leaky Cauldron. She couldn't believe that on that very morning, she'd been
standing in Oliver's kitchen, belting out the Puddlemere United theme song. It seemed
like another lifetime.
"Can I get you anything?" the bartender asked her with a toothless smile as Rachel
slid onto one of the stools.
"Sure...something strong," Rachel replied with a moan, then put her head in her
hands. Only SHE could truly mess up so badly in one day.
"Comin' right up," the bartender said.
"Great," Rachel said. Sure enough, seconds later, an acid green drink in a shot
glass was placed in front of her. It appeared to be smoking at first glance, but when she
blinked, it no longer was. She hoped it was just her imagination. Rachel had never been
much of a drinker-or a drinker at all, in fact, but there was a first time for everything.
Anything that would get her mind off of the royal mess that was her life.
Wrinkling her nose, she picked up the glass and rose it slowly to her lips, then
took a teeny sip. She swallowed quickly, and it left a burning sensation in her throat.
"That strong enough for ya?" the bartender asked with another smile.
"Yeah," Rachel barely managed to croak.
She took another sip-it actually wasn't bad.
"So...what in life causes you to need such a strong drink?" the bartender asked as
he wiped off the bar with a damp cloth.
"Long story or short?"
"Whatever you want to tell."
Rachel took another, this time rather large, sip, then continued to talk. "Short,
then. Went to visit a friend, had a strange encounter with said friend's rather attractive
brother, found out that I was trying out for the same Quidditch position as rather
attractive brother of said friend, fell for attractive brother of said friend, got accused by
said friend of leading on attractive brother of said friend, and got kicked out by said
friend without being able to say goodbye to attractive brother of said friend."
"I'm glad I didn't ask for the long version," the bartender chuckled.
"So am I," Rachel downed the last of the drink. "Because frankly, I'm too
exhausted to tell you."
"Want another drink?" the bartender asked.
"Sure," Rachel handed him the shot glass. Whatever that stuff was, she liked
it...she felt a bit more relaxed already.
Rachel downed the next drink in two sips, and the bartender gave her another as
she began to give him the long story.
"Well, you see-" hiccup! "-I always wanted-" hiccup! "-to be a singer, like the next
Celes-" hiccup! "-tina Warbeck, you know? But my parents-" hiccup! "-don't like that
idea very-" hiccup! "-much. My dad always-" hiccup! "-wanted me to be a-" hiccup! "-pro
Quidditch player. So then I-" hiccup! "-Got this letter from Muddlepere United-"
Rachel paused to take a long sip of her fourth drink and stared in confusion at the
bartender as he laughed heartily.
SHE didn't see anything funny about it.
~*~
"Where ARE you?" Oliver muttered under his breath as he exited Quality
Quidditch Supplies. He'd already checked Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, the only two places next to Quality Quidditch
Supplies that were left open that late at night. Both Mr. Fortescue, who had been
straightening up and preparing to close, and Madam Malkin, who had been fitting robes
on an older witch, hadn't seen her.
Where IS she? he thought desperately, his gaze sweeping across Diagon Alley.
His eyes fell upon The Leaky Cauldron. Even if she wasn't there, he could use a
butterbeer.
As he entered the pub, the bells on the door jingled to announce his entrance. A
slender female figure was slumped over the bar, golden hair draped over her face and a
glass of some sort of bright green drink in her hand.
"Rachel," he muttered.
The bartender, Tom, was staring at her with a mixture of amusement and concern
as she spoke. Her words were slurred and often interrupted by hiccups.
"And I-" hiccup! "-can't understand whyee has this affect on me, ya know?"
hiccup! "-I have half a mind to go back there-" hiccup! "-and grab 'im and just kiss 'im, ya
know?"
Oliver blushed as the few other people in the pub stared at her, not hiding their
disgust.
"Yeah, he's a REALLY good kisser-" hiccup! "Even though I on'y kissed 'im
like...four...no...five-" hiccup! "-times, ya know, but it was like WOW!" hiccup!
Oliver wished that the floor would open up and swallow him whole, and he
wanted nothing more than to just turn around and leave, but he knew he couldn't do that.
"And more coulda happened, ya know-" hiccup! "-but then there was-" hiccup!
"-the whole thing with his sister, which kinda sucked ya know, 'cause-" hiccup! "-he is
REALLY-"
"RACHEL!" Oliver shouted.
She turned around and looked at him. It took a few seconds before her eyes lit up
in recognition, but once she did a huge, dopey smile spread across her face.
"Oli!" she exclaimed, holding out her arms. "C'mere!"
"Oh Lord," Oliver muttered under his breath, but walked over and gave her a
quick hug. Tom stared at him in amusement and gave him a wink.
"Will you be taking her off my hands, now?"
"Yeah," Oliver mumbled. "Sorry..."
"It's perfectly fine, son," Tom said. "She was...interesting."
"Can I just get a hotel room?" Oliver asked.
Tom raised an eyebrow at him, and Oliver blushed again.
"No, no, not like...THAT...it's not like I...NO, not at all, it's just...she needs to
sleep, and..."
"All right, all right," Tom said, handing him a key. "Room 13 is open."
"Thank you," Oliver said, then attempted to pull away Rachel, who was still
holding onto him for dear life. She didn't resist-instead, she finished off the drink on the
counter.
"This-" hiccup! "-stuff is great-" hiccup! "-you should try-" hiccup! "-some, Oli!"
"No thanks," Oliver said. "Now, we're going to walk upstairs, okay? Do you think
you can get that far?"
"Of course! I can-" hiccup! "-walk fine," Rachel said, standing up and
immediately stumbling forward. Oliver put out his arms and caught her before she fell
and cracked her head open on the floor.
Though perhaps it would sober her up a bit if she did so.
"Sorry, sorry, I can walk," Rachel said, then hiccuped.
"Maybe I should help-"
"I CAN WALK!" Rachel screamed at the top of her lungs.
"All right, then," Oliver said meekly, staring at the floor. He looked up as Rachel
took a few steps forward and walked directly into a chair. She flipped over it and landed
on the floor.
"You're not walking," Oliver announced.
"But I can-"
"No you CAN'T," Oliver said firmly. He then proceeded to pick her up in his
arms, Prince-Charming and Cinderella-style. Only Prince Charming had had it
easy-Cinderella hadn't been completely and totally drunk.
"This is so-" hiccup! "-romantic!" Rachel said with a high, shrill giggle that
seemed wrong to be coming out of her, of all people's mouths.
"Yeah, it's wonderful," Oliver said dryly. He could hear the people in the pub
chuckling merrily as Oliver climbed the rickety stairs up to the hotel rooms.
When he finally reached theirs, which was oh-so-conveniently located at the end
of the hall, he felt as if he'd just attended an all-day Quidditch practice. He fumbled to
unlock the door, then practically ran in and dropped Rachel onto the bed. She giggled
again with a totally-the-opposite-of-herself "Whee!"
"Whee," Oliver echoed sarcastically, sitting down on the foot of the bed trying to
catch his breath.
"You know, Oli," Rachel said in a sing-songy voice. "I-" hiccup! "-never felt the
way about a-" hiccup! "-guy that I do-" hiccup! "-about you. And I've only-" hiccup!
"-known you for, like, a day! Isn't that-" hiccup! "-crazy?"
"It's crazy all right," Oliver said, knowing better than to believe any of her words.
He'd never seen anyone this horribly drunk-it even beat the time when Callen went way
overboard on the wine at their uncle's wedding a few years back. And she had been
DRUNK.
"You know-" hiccup! "-what, Oli?"
"What?" Oliver asked.
"I think-" hiccup! "-I love-" hiccup! "-you."
"Hey, whatever happened to if you say I love you I'll punch you?" Oliver asked,
forcing a smile.
"Huh?" Rachel asked, dazed.
"Oh, never mind," Oliver said. "It's just that...I shouldn't even be listening to you,
because tomorrow morning you're going to be back to normal, and you're going to regret
that you ever said anything. So maybe it would be better if you just shut up. No offense or
anything."
Rachel, however, ignored his words and began to sing. Her voice was still perfect,
even in her wasted state, though she hiccuped every once in a while.
"If I should stay, I would only be in the way. So I'll go, but I know I'll think of you
every step of the way..."
Oliver couldn't help but smile as she sang to him, but he couldn't turn around. If
he turned around, he knew he would just let himself fall completely for her, and then
everything would be even more of a mess.
If possible.
"And I will always love you."
He really wanted to turn around. To just look at her.
"I will always love you."
Maybe he could...just for a second, just to look at her really quickly.
"I-"
The springs on the bed suddenly squeaked, and he turned back to find that she'd
collapsed. He felt his pulse quicken-what if she was in a coma?
However, a few seconds later she began to snore.
"Okay, she's fine," Oliver muttered to himself. He grabbed the blanket that was
folded up at the end of the bed, shook it out, and placed it over her. As he watched her,
he couldn't help but smile...in spite of the fact that she was snoring louder than his father
ever had and that she smelled like she'd bathed in alcohol, she was still absolutely
beautiful.
He lowered his voice to a whisper.
"'Night, Rachel."
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize HP-wise belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling. "I
Will Always Love You" belongs to...not me. Dolly Parton, I think. Don't ask how Rachel
knows all these Muggle songs. She just...*does* :)
A/N: This chapter was lotsa fun to write-thanks to Rachel (the one who this story is for)
for the whole Rach-gets-drunk idea. :) Okey doke, wonderful people, now you can
review!
