Email: parsleynsage@hotmail.com


Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: Oliver Wood. Who the hell is Oliver Wood? No one in the wizarding community hasn't heard of this man since his surprising graduation from Hogwarts in 1996, much to the dismay of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. He needs to be found, but why? and who can handle the task?

AN: rightio, sorry it's taken so long to update. need I say school, mostly chemistry! EGAD! that's enough, I've got v-ball and a project this weekend but I think I should be able to get something done.

liner notes: I think I've gotten into a pattern here, chapter three will be about Charlie, and the next about Hermione and Ron, and maybe a little crossover towards the end, but I'll only do this until I can get the two story lines together, and I promise they do eventually do so.  right. here we go!

chapter three

melodrama and unexpected visitors

            "Turn off the bloody alarm!" came a muffled shout from the direction of Wills' room. 

            Charlie's eyelids flickered and his head felt heavy from yet another night of being too friendly with green fairies and harps (AN: i.e. different brands of alcohol).  He had spent three nights on the pastel green couch in the living room that smelled of Will's friend Charlotte and some sort of pet he must have had at university; this morning Charlie had changed his guess from a rather putrid smelling cat that must have pissed regularly on the arm to a rather large and sedentary bunny since he had found several suspiciously giant droppings which looked bunny like.

            The problem wasn't finding the alarm, he could hear that loud piece of shit, he couldn't make cut a path across the floor.  His hop-soaked brain wasn't helping him in any way; he had to sit back down on the coach and settle for crawling across the floor.

            "I asked nicely the first time, Charlie.  Do I have to get angry?" shouted Wills.

            "Here's the little bugger," Charlie muttered to himself as he pulled the alarm out from under his bureau  where it was hiding behind an old copy of The Irish Times and a handmade card he had gotten from his niece a few years before. 

            "It's about time," came a voice from Charlie's bed.

            He turned slowly not wanting to see anything unpleasant, "Charlotte, I see you're enjoying our hospitality again."

            "Very much so," came a deep voice from under Charlie's prized down comforter, a muscular arm and large foot hung off the edge of the bed and remnants of what appeared to have been a costume party the night before were spread about the room. 

            "I can see that you enjoyed yourself last night as well," Charlie commented trying to leave without looking about the room.

            "We sure did, went to this great place called-" began Charlotte who was cut off as Charlie closed the door.

            "Where the hell is my coffee!" screamed Wills as he walked into the kitchen, his face still dripping from the mud mask he had just washed away.

            "Do I look like a damn lackey to you?" Charlie asked as he tried to finish buttering his toast, doing his best to avoid his roommate's greedy hands.

            "After last night I'll need to have the whole pot to keep up my stamina."

            "Enough! I'll get you your damn coffee if you promise to stop talking about last night, you and Charlotte both," Charlie said as he handed Wills his piece of bread and set about making coffee for them both.

            "That's a good little flat mate," Wills said as he patted Charlie on the head and started raid the refrigerator.

            "I just might bite that hand one day."

            "The one that feeds you?" Wills asked as he poked at the overgrown mold on top of the egg salad his mum had brought over the week before.

            "Like you bring one tuppence into the flat for anything but rent."

            "Take it that way if you like, but should you ever need any of my services I could be of help," Wills said as he reached for Charlie's waist band.

            Charlie spilled water all over the counter, "Flirting with me is fine, as long as it isn't that serious.  But this—touching me—isn't fine, especially if Charlotte's still in the other room."

            "And what if she wasn't?"

            "He, Wills.  Charlotte is a he."

            "Fine, fine," Wills said sulking, "You and your minor details."

            Hermione held out her cup for Ron to refill once more.  He took out of her hand and returned to the kitchen.  She smiled from beneath her mound of covers and snotty tissues under which they had spent the night.  She'd never seen so many girlie movies in a twelve hour span, and she felt just as feminine as Marilyn in the Seven Year Itch, and Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail.  It was nice, it was very nice.

            "What will it be this time?" Ron called from the kitchen.

            "Another shot of the house specialty."

            "The house it is, madam," Ron said when he had returned her cup into her hand.

            He snuggled under the covers next to her, ready to attend to any of her needs.  She wasn't breaking, only bent and that's what was concerning him, "Have you called into Dad yet?"

            Hermione shook her head of sugar brown curls, "He already knew that I was going to take a holiday."

            "I guess I should call into the office as well."

            Hermione put a hand on his arm as he rose, "Ginny will know; they'll all know.  No one expects any more."

            "Charlie!"

            "What now?" Charlie demanded as he came out of his room covered in oil paint.

            "I think it's a woman," Wills said pointing at the phone, "Imagine that."

            "Shove off will you?"

            "I believe I've already done enough of that for the day," Wills said smiling as he slunk off to his bedroom to get ready for work. 

            "Hello?" Charlie said as he picked up the phone.

            There was a pause and some whispering the background.

            "Hello?" he asked a little more irritated this time.

            "Oliver?" asked a tentative voice.

            "Damn it!" Hermione shouted as she threw down the remote and the covers making a dash for the foyer.

            "It's probably some salesman," Ron said trying to coax her back to the coach with her glass of orange juice and the remote he'd found.

            "Like salesman ever come this far into the building," Hermione said as she looked through the peephole.

            "That's odd."

            "What?" asked Ron.

            "I can't see anyone at the door," she said as she opened the knob.

            "Who's there, then?" Ron asked as he came to the door.

            "Good lord!" Hermione shouted as the face and features took shape.

            "Fancy seeing you here," Ron said in a cold and almost accusing tone.

            "Young Weasley and my dear Miss Granger, it is good to see you again," said the deep voice of the tall figure.

            "Won't you come in?" Hermione asked opening the door a little wider.

            "He'll not step a foot in this house as long as I am here," Ron said as he took his hand to the edge of the door and put his weight behind it preventing Hermione from opening it anymore. 

            "I wasn't expecting much of a pleasant welcome."     

Author's Note

            Cliffhangers are wonderful aren't they! well in this case I suppose they're just plain evil. all  the time I have for now, might get another chapter up tomorrow. sorry it took so long!

questions to be answered:

who called Charlie?

why did they call him Oliver?

who was at Hermione and Ron's door?

why does Ron hate above person so much?

have fun with that, and have you reviewed lately? good, and if you haven't then get to it! please!! rightio. you're awesome! annie