Chapter two! Sorry about that rant/complaint folks, but I was very, very, very mad when I wrote it. I'd had a bad day, and that review was sort of the last thing I really needed to come home to. At any rate, here's chapter two.

Enjoy!

1 Day One - Oliver's House

"The game was spectacular!" Harry gushed two hours later.

Oliver grinned, slightly embarrassed, and ruffled Harry's hair. The younger boy shook off his hand with a grin of his own and sat down next to his former Quidditch captain.

"You little bugger . " Oliver grinned, "We lost."

"But it was such a spectacular loss!" Harry insisted.

"You're lucky the locker room's empty," the older man sighed in good humor, "Otherwise you'd have the entire team trying to beat you to death with the Beater's clubs."

"They take loss that hard, huh?"

"Yep."

"Ah well . just so long as you don't try to drown yourself in the showers," Harry sighed, remembering the Quidditch match they'd lost in his third year.

"Yes . well . " Oliver trailed off, laughing from embarrassment, also remembering the match.

Harry had been rendered unconscious because of the Dementors' presence at the field, and the only reason why he was still alive was because of Albus Dumbledore, who had been present as well. The man had saved him from a fifty-foot plummet to his death, Harry remembered with a shiver.

"Cold?" Oliver asked.

"N- no . " Harry stammered.

It wasn't a complete lie. He wasn't cold physically, but thinking of the Dementors brought a cold feeling that filled him from head to toe, and didn't seem to want to go away. Oliver looked at him as if knowing the truth, but he smiled and placed a friendly hand on Harry's shoulder as he pushed himself up from the bench. Then he held out that same hand to offer Harry help up. Unsure of himself, Harry took that offered hand, and promptly any cold feelings gave way to a nice, tingling warmth.

No, no, no! What am I thinking? I can't be . no! He's an internationally famous Quidditch player!, Harry yelled at himself.

You're internationally famous for being alive.

But he's five years older than me!

At least it's not ten.

But . but

1.1 Yeah, that's what I though, Harry .

"Harry? . Harry?"

Suddenly Harry became aware of Oliver's face being horribly close to his own. He stared into deep brown eyes that were startlingly bright and full of concern. Then he became aware of both Oliver's hands on his shoulders, and the fact that they were still in the locker rooms.

"Harry? Are yeh all right?"

Harry shook his head to clear the cobwebs and forced himself to look away from Oliver's eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry 'bout that. I just zoned out, I guess."

"Yeh certainly did!" Oliver sighed, but grinned, "Thought I'd lost yeh to the clouds."

"Well, I'm back down on earth now. We can leave."

"O' course. I've taken the liberty of requesting that one of the security goblins bring your stuff around back, so we can leave directly."

"That's fine. The sooner we can get started, the better, eh?" Harry grinned.

Oliver coughed lightly and looked away. If it had been anyone else, Harry would have sworn that they were blushing, but this was Oliver! Oliver Wood didn't blush! . Right?

"Yeah, let's go," the older man said, leading the way.

* * *

"Well, here we are," Oliver announced.

Harry entered the flat in Godric's Hollow after him, looking around curiously. The only other wizard home he'd ever been in was The Burrow, and that was quite different from any house one could find, period.

"It's a bit of a mess, and rather small," the Scottish man was explaining hurridly, "I've only got one room, and there's not much furniture to speak of. I'm sure you're used to much better living quarters than here, but this is all I can offer and - "

"Oliver!" Harry said loudly.

"Yes?"

"It's wonderful. I love it. I'm most definitely not used to anything better than this. In fact, I'm used to much, much, much worse. It's not exactly five-star quality in a cupboard under the stairs, you know."

Oliver looked at Harry, as if he'd never quite given thought to the fact that Harry might not have been as well off as everyone assumed. But he grinned and shrugged sheepishly and set down his bag that held all his Quidditch equipment in a closet.

"I'm off for a week, I don't even want to look at it!" he announced.

Harry chuckled.

"Not even to clean your robes?"

"Er . well . that'll eventually have to happen. But it won't be for a while," Oliver replied sheepishly.

Harry laughed and continued his inspection of the flat, finding the bathroom, kitchen, and the bedroom. In the bedroom, he saw a desk, a clock, a closet, and a door leading off to the bathroom. There wasn't much else by way of decoration or furniture, but Harry still thought it was wonderful.

"Oliver? What's in the trunk?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

He was damned if the chest in the corner didn't look exactly like the one the fake Moody had had back in Hogwarts. There was even a ring of seven keys on top of it. Oliver poked his head around the doorway to see what Harry was talking about. When his eyes landed on the trunk, he nodded slightly and stepped fully into the doorway. Harry forced himself not to laugh at the sight of his old Quidditch captain wearing an apron with the wand sticking out of one of the front pockets.

"They're just some old books," the older man said, "Mostly texts from Hogwarts, but I've got some fictions and novels and such. Also, there's old clothes, presents from friends, small things from places I've been to with the team. Stuff like that."

"So it's one of those that has seven compartments?"

"Yeah. . Why do you ask?"

"Eh . no reason, just curiosity. The DADA teacher last year had one of them, and I thought that yours looked a lot like it. That's all."

Oliver gave Harry a sort of searching look as if he didn't quite believe him. After a short debate with himself however, he just gave a small shrug and looked back towards what Harry assumed was the kitchen.

"I'm making dinner . should be ready shortly. Are you very hungry?"

"No, not horribly, but I'm sure I'll manage to put some food away," Harry grinned.

* * *

Dinner in a wizard's house was always a fun experience. Oliver had created, quite literally, a dinner fit for a king from one of the cookbooks that his mother had given him. During their meal the dishes that had been used as serving platters were cleaning themselves in the sink and Harry found himself concentrating more than usual on Oliver to keep from staring at them. Oliver didn't seem to notice, but he had grown up with self- cleaning dishes.

"So, Harry, what have you been up to this past year? I heard that Hogwarts hosted the Triwizard Tournament, but not much else."

"Er, yeah. The Triwizard Tournament took place instead of Quidditch, which was a pain, but it was, eh, interesting."

"Oh? And I suppose you were one of the contestants, hmm?" Oliver grinned.

"Yes, actually. But my name was put in for me, under a different school name. Cedric was also one of the contestants. The others were Fleur Delacour from Beaubaxtons, and, you're going to love this, Viktor Krum from Durmstrang."

Oliver's jaw nearly dropped through the table.

"Viktor Krum! Are you sure?! You're not pulling my leg, are you?" he asked rapidly.

"Told you you'd love it," Harry grinned, "No, I'm not pulling your leg and yes, I am quite sure of who it was. We even sort of worked together at one point. But I thought everyone knew that."

Now Oliver looked sort of embarrassed. He found the table very interesting, indeed.

"Well, as a professional Quidditch player, one doesn't really remember to keep up with the news. Most of the time it was practice or planning to get to our next game. Traveling can be quite tiring. Plus, I don't read what that Skeeter woman says. She's quite an annoying little bug, always hanging around - what's so funny?"

Harry shook his head around his laughter, trying to speak.

"Nothing really. It - just - would you believe that she's an unregistered animagus? She can turn into a beetle. She printed some really horrible stuff about me and Hermione during the year, so Hermione captured her in bug form and placed her in a jar for the summer."

"So that's why nobody's heard of her all summer," Oliver mused.

"Yep."

The older boy grinned widely.

"Thank God, I say."

"So does Hermione. Skeeter reported that she was my girlfriend, but was cheating on me with Viktor, and people sent poor Hermione hate-mail, and curses, someone even sent undiluted bubotuber puss."

"Ach! That stuff stings!" Oliver said sympathetically, wincing, "I know. I had a bit of an accident with it in my second year."

Harry laughed, marveling at how free of his dark memories he was around the older boy. He found that he didn't even really mind talking about the Triwizard Tournament, as long as he wouldn't have to go into Cedric's death. Oliver noticed that Harry was finished with dinner and pointed his wand at the plate. Harry blinked in surprise as the plate disappeared and appeared in the sink, cleaning itself.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he said, shaking his head with a grin.

"Don't worry," Oliver assured him, "You will eventually. Everyone does once they're out of Hogwarts. Unless they live with it, then they're always used to it."

Harry nodded and fought to stifle a yawn, failing horribly. Oliver saw this and grinned.

"Tired then?"

The younger boy nodded slightly, following Oliver's lead and standing.

"Right. Bed time. We can talk more in the morning and figure out what to do for the week, all right?"

"Yeah, no problem. I am the guest here, remember," Harry grinned.

"How could I forget? And, being my guest, I shall do everything possible to make your stay comfortable."

Harry blushed, "You don't have to -"

"I know I don't. But I'm going to anyway. Now, here's the thing. You've probably noticed I have only one bedroom."

"Yes."

"Well, would you like it to yourself? I can sleep on the couch, I'm used to it -"

"Oh, no! I can't throw you out of your own bed! I'll sleep on the couch, it's all right."

Oliver looked hard at the young boy and Harry got the distinct feeling that the slight frown marring his features was directed, not at himself, but at the Dursleys.

"No, you won't be sleeping on the couch, I don't care if you're used to it or not."

"Well, then that leaves us with a bit of a problem. I won't kick you out of your room, and you won't let me sleep on the couch. So now what?"

Oliver and Harry had at this point reached Oliver's bedroom and were standing in front of the fairly large bed. They both turned to stare at it.

"Share?" Oliver asked.

"Sure."

"All right."

Harry went to his suitcase and Oliver went to his closet to get their sleeping clothes. Then Oliver disappeared into the bathroom to change, leaving Harry to change in the room, blushing furiously.

I can't believe I'm going to do this, he thought, I mean, I don't have any problems with sharing the bed, but this is Oliver! Who I'm -- no, I'm NOT attracted to him. Oh, this isn't getting me anywhere! Just stop thinking, Harry, and share the bloody bed. It's only Oliver.

When he finished changing, he clambered into the bed and took off his glasses, placing them on the table next to him. Oliver came in soon after and climbed in on the other side, scooting over as far as possible, like Harry was.

"'Night, Oliver."

"G'night, Harry."

And it was indeed, a good night for Harry. It was the first night that he slept without nightmares.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Right then, I've finished chapter two, aren't you proud of me? =^-^=

Okay, now for the Author's Notes: I know this chapter is corny. I said in the summary that this is yet another cheesy story with a cheesy title from the Queen of Cheesy. So, if you don't like my cheesiness, don't continue reading.

For the rest of you who actually like my stuff please either ignore or gently let me know what spelling mistakes I've made. Remember to review. Thankee!