Oliver tried his best to comprehend what his girlfriend was asking. She was asking to play in a Quidditch match even though she had jus been assaulted in the worst possible way. Oliver felt love welling up within his chest, and he leaned over and pressed his lips against Alison's. She didn't resist, and instead wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Alison broke away for a breath, and Oliver caressed her face tenderly. In a concerned tone, he asked, 'Are you sure you want to play, Alison? You don't have to. I'm sure Alicia could play now…we'd think of something.'
Alison shook her head firmly and replied, 'Absolutely not…I'm going to play, and we're going to win. Flint and Draco are going to regret the day they were born.'
Two minutes later, Harry, Sirius (the dog) and Remus entered the hospital wing, slightly concerned as to what had happened between Alison and Oliver. When they saw Oliver sitting on the bed beside Alison, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief. When Oliver noticed their presence, he removed his arm, and placed it awkwardly on his knees. Remus could barely keep from laughing at Oliver's obvious discomfort. Instead, he turned to Alison and said, 'Honey, now that we know who's responsible, its up to you what their fate will be. Just name it.'
Alison looked at him and then at her canine father, and replied, 'I want to play'
'WHAT??'
Harry looked astounded at this, and Remus looked appalled. Sirius just stared at his daughter, wondering what on earth had gotten into her. Ignoring their expressions, even though the look of gormless wonder on the dog's face was priceless, Alison continued, 'And I want you to know that Oliver had nothing to do with me changing my mind. This is my choice, and my choice alone. I would appreciate it if you would talk to Madame Pomfrey about letting me go. The match, after all, does start in three hours and I need to practice.'
Remus looked down at the dog, who nodded his head slightly. Remus glanced beseechingly at Alison once again, silently asking her to reconsider her decision. When her expression remained determined, Remus sighed and walked over to where Madame Pomfrey was mixing together some herbs in a bowl. Her first reaction was shock, followed by absolute reluctance. Eventually, she must have given in, for Remus came striding back, a huge smile on his face. Sure enough, he said, 'Well, Alison, you're as stubborn as a mule…and I suppose it has paid off. Your wish has indeed been granted…' He was interrupted by a highly annoyed Madame Pomfrey, who shooed all four of Alison's companions out of the Hospital Wing. Oliver leaned over and kissed Alison lightly, before turning and walking out of the ward, just a few steps behind the other three.
Two and a half hours later, Alison was gripping the handle of her broom in the Changing Rooms, as she waited patiently for Angelina and Katie to change into their robes. She had especially careful not to let anyone see the bruises on her body, for even though Madame Pomfrey had been able to stop them from throbbing incessantly, she had been unable to conceal them. Alison hoped that the other two girls wouldn't notice the vast amounts of concealer that she was wearing on her face, to hide the bruises there. When they were finally ready, they walked out into the small room that opened out onto the field. Oliver and the rest of the team were standing there, and when he saw her, Oliver walked over to Alison and draped his arm around her shoulders. Fred and George tried to hide their smirks as much as they possibly could. They were convinced that it had been the plan concocted by them and their girlfriends that had led to this current state of affairs. They winked at each other in a self-congratulatory manner before settling down on the bench to listen to Oliver's pre match speech. Oliver looked at his team and smiled. He could not believe how far they had come from their first practice together. Fred and George, though still pranksters, had matured as Beaters and were truly a fearsome pair when they were in the mood. Angelina and Katie were two of the best Chasers Hogwarts could boast of. Alison, and his smile widened, as he glanced over at her, was THE best Chaser Hogwarts had ever seen. And Harry…the boy was so much mature than his years. Oliver had come to like, and then respect Harry as his only possible successor as the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.
Oliver loosened his grip on Alison's shoulders and taking the hint, she slipped out of his grasp and sat down on the bench next to Harry. Oliver took a deep breath and then said, 'I know that all of you are waiting for me to give you some sort of pep talk, but I'd rather take you back to the start of my fifth year, three years ago. That was the year I made captain and I remember wondering how on earth to control any of you. Especially a pair of red headed twins whose names I wont mention. But now, as I look at you, I realize that I've already achieved my dream, whatever happens out there on the field. Because I know that I've succeeded in making a team…the best damn team Hogwarts has ever seen! And I'm proud to be a part of this team. But you know what would make me prouder? To sit by the hearth, a few years down the line, and tell my kids how I was part of the best Quidditch team ever…the Gryffindor Team that won the Quidditch Cup in my Seventh Year.' With that Oliver sat down, and everyone else remained silent. Oliver had never been known to give such profound speeches. They generally consisted primarily of cusses and swear as he urged them to "pound the buggers into the ground". Breaking the silence, Fred wiped a mock tear from his eye, and whispered, 'That was lovely, Oliver. Would you do my eulogy for me?' Oliver flushed red and he punched the red head lightly in the arm…he had no intention of injuring any of his players. Just then, he heard Lee Jordan announcing the Slytherin team, a proclamation that was met by a huge number of catcalls and boos. Once the noise died down, Lee Jordan announced the Gryffindor team and the whistles and cheers that erupted were deafening. Oliver threw open the door of the changing room and watched as his players jogged out onto the field amid thunderous applause. He turned to his girlfriend and kissed her soundly before following her out onto the field. His breath caught in his chest when he saw that three quarters of the crowd was dressed in red. As the adrenalin surged through him, he closed his eyes in a silent prayer. He had to win this one, for Alison…he had to.
Madame Hooch beckoned to the two captains, but Flint seemed to be in a shocked stupor. His mouth had fallen open and his eyes were wide as he saw Alison jog out onto the field with Oliver next to her. When Madam Hooch called him over, he didn't hear her and instead continued to stare at Alison. He was interrupted from his transfixed gaze by his Chaser, and shaking his head in disbelief, he walked over to Oliver Wood. Draco was standing a few metres behind Flint and his expression was even more comical. His blonde hair seemed to be standing on end as he surveyed her face trying to find some trace of the pain that she must feel. But he could find none. He clenched his fists and wondered how on earth things hadn't worked out the way he had planned. Alison noticed him staring and instead of averting her eyes, stared brazenly back at him, as though daring him to try and hurt her again. Draco felt a shiver run down his spine as he recognized the look of pure loathing in Alison's eyes. Her dark eyes flashed dangerously, and eventually, Draco looked away. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to focus on the task at hand…to beat Gryffindor and claim the Quidditch Cup.
Oliver felt his face heat up with rage as Flint sauntered over to him, and held his hand out. Oliver gripped it as lightly as he possibly could…just to look at flint made his skin crawl. He was the worst sort of person. Oliver couldn't bear to imagine what this piece of scum had done to Alison.
As soon as he could, Oliver let go of Flint's hand and turned back to his own team. He stood as close as he possibly could to Alison without actually giving in to the temptation of hugging her and instead, smiled reassuringly at her. Flint and Draco were holding a hushed discussion and Alison couldn't help but smirk at their evident discomfort. *Good*, she thought, *let him squirm…*
The whistle startled Alison from her thoughts and instantly, she pushed off from the ground. Almost immediately, Angelina caught the Quaffle and tossed it to her. Ignoring the pain that was gnawing at her, Alison caught it securely and sped towards the goalposts. She could see the Slytherin Beaters coming up to the left and right of her. When they were less than five metres to either side of her, she realized that the two Bludgers were over on the other side of the field. Her eyes widened as she saw both of them raise their clubs and swing for her head. In the nick of time, Alison dropped to the ground like a stone, and above her, she heard two simultaneous thuds as the two Slytherin beaters smashed each other on the head. Not pausing to gloat, she circled the Slytherin goals, the Quaffle tucked securely under her arm. By this time, Angelina and Katie were right behind her and together, they began to swerve this way and that, causing the keeper a huge amount of consternation. Alison passed the Quaffle to Angelina who then passed it to Katie. This continued for about thirty seconds until the keeper was about ready to weep with desperation. Suddenly, the keeper realized that Angelina had disappeared and that it was only Katie and Alison who were swerving in front of him. In horror, he turned and watched as Angelina tossed the bright red Quaffle through the center hoop. The Gryffindor section of the crowd screamed and cheered, and Alison nearly clapped her hands in glee.
A half hour later, Alison was drenched in sweat and although, Gryffindor was well in the lead (70-30), she could feel the pain beginning to overcome her. She glanced up at Harry, who for the moment was scanning the pitch for any sight of the gilded snitch. Draco, she could see, was marking him so closely that their knees were practically touching. And then Alison saw it. The snitch…it was halfway down the pitch. She looked desperately at Harry but he hadn't seen it. She knew that she wasn't allowed to touch the snitch herself, but she couldn't not do anything. She was closest to Katie and catching her eye, she nodded her head surreptitiously at the snitch. Katie's eyes widened as she caught sight of the glimmer of gold. Alison could think of only one thing to do and that was to keep all or most of the Slytherins over on this side. She knew that Draco had been given clear instructions to mark Harry, come rain or sun. Katie, Alison and then, later Angelina began to toss the Quaffle back and forth, all the while dodging the Bludgers. Alison had to use all of her willpower to keep her eyes from wandering back to snitch. Suddenly, Flint caught hold of the Quaffle as it was being tossed from Angelina to Katie. A big grin on his face, he sped down the field towards Oliver, his eyes narrowed in concentration. All thoughts of the snitch were driven from Alison's mind as she forced her broom forward until she was right alongside Flint and Katie was on the other side. Alison yelled, 'Now!' and the two Chasers began to circle Flint. They droned around him like a pair of annoying flies and if that weren't bad enough, Angelina soon joined in too, from beneath Flint. This ploy had taken them hours to perfect in practice, but it was well worth the effort. Flint was forced to swerve away from the goalposts, muttering under his breath. Just then, Alison heard the crowd fall silent and she turned to see Harry and Draco hurtling towards the ground, so fast that it seemed that they were both just falling. Harry was a few inches behind the Slytherin keeper, but he was catching up. The distance between the two seekers and the snitch shortened from twenty metres to ten, then five, then three. Alison said a silent prayer as Harry pulled in front of Draco, and then, as Harry closed his fingers around the snitch, just a fraction of a second before Draco closed his fingers on thin air, the whole crowd exploded, some with dismay but most with jubilation. Gryffindor had won…they had won the Quidditch Cup and they had won the House Cup.
The next fifteen minutes flew by in a swirl of tears, cheers and hugs. Oliver found himself sobbing as he hugged Alison for all he was worth. He seemed oblivious to the rest of the people around him, thumping him on the back. Harry seemed to be buried under a crowd of Gryffindors, and well wishers. As Oliver held aloft the glittering trophy, the one that his hands had been itching to touch for the past three years, and as the crowd roared its approval, Oliver felt such happiness that he had never felt in his entire life. his exhilaration was enhanced by the sight of the Slytherin team slinking off the pitch, forgotten and rejected, their clothes stained with mud, their faces stained with tears. Alison grinned happily as she watched Oliver hold aloft the trophy. She clapped so hard that her fingers were numb. She had been hugged so hard that she could no longer feel her stomach. But she was happy. As Oliver beckoned for the team to join him, and as he handed her the trophy, she felt even happier. But her happiness peaked when Oliver let go of the trophy, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her.
*****
The exhilaration caused by Gryffindor's victory lasted about a week for most people, but Oliver seemed to walking with his head in the clouds for a lot longer. Alison's wounds healed fast and Madame Pomfrey released her into Oliver's custody. Alison was just changing back into her robes before she left the Hospital Wing when Madame Pomfrey asked Oliver if she could talk to him in private. Closing the door to her office firmly, she gestured for Oliver to have a seat. Shifting a pile of papers from what seemed like an old, rather rotted stool, Oliver sat down gingerly. Madame Pomfrey, however, paced in front of him. She stopped, turned to him and said, 'Oliver, not to put a damper on your spirits, but it seems to me that in your excitement about the victory, you have forgotten that you girlfriend was raped.' Oliver protested indignantly but was shushed by the Nurse. She continued, 'I know that it is not intentional, and I am not saying that it is your fault. In fact, truth be told, your girlfriend seems to have all but forgotten as well. But what you have to realize is that her…condition is not too stable. It's nothing serious and nothing that time cant cure. What I am trying to say, Oliver, is that both you and Alison seem to have forgotten the risk of Alison being pregnant.'
Oliver felt the blood drain from his cheeks, and for a second, as his head spun, he thought he was going to pass out. Seeing the look on his face, Madame Pomfrey hurriedly continued, 'I don't know for sure yet, we'll just have to wait. I would do some tests if I weren't so sure that Alison would be most worried by them. And the last thing she needs to do at this point is worry…'
'What are you going to wait for??' demanded Oliver, indignantly.
The slightest flush crept into the Nurse's cheeks as she wondered how to explain to Oliver how she would know whether Alison was indeed pregnant. Seeing that Oliver was not backing down, she got a grip of herself and replied, as calmly as she could, 'I'm waiting for her…period…if it doesn't start soon, I'm going to have to start doing the tests.'
Now it was Oliver's turn to color and he looked down at the ground awkwardly. Hurriedly, the nurse moved on. She cleared her throat, and said, 'The reason I called you here is not because I wanted to tell you all of this, but because I have a favour to ask of you.'
Oliver looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face. He couldn't imagine what Madame Pomfrey could possibly want to ask of him. Madame Pomfrey looked very uncomfortable as she opened her mouth again. 'Oliver, if I do have to do the tests, I need to make sure that Alison is…untainted, except by whoever assaulted her.' seeing the look of incomprehension on Oliver's face, she decided that there was nothing she could do but tell him straight out. 'Oliver…what I'm saying is…you can't have sex with Alison, not until after I've done the tests if I need to.'
Oliver stood up indignantly and practically yelled, 'I would never pressure her to go further than she wanted to…NEVER!'
Madame Pomfrey smiled and said, 'I know you wouldn't, that's a given. What I'm asking is for you to resist her, no matter how far she is willing to go. If she wants it, you say no…for her sake, you have to say no. Her hormones are in turmoil right now…and she might want to go further than she would in a normal state.'
Oliver sat back down in the chair with a thud. He could keep his hands to himself, but to resist Alison would take a huge effort. He looked at Madame Pomfrey and saw her look at him pleadingly. Slowly, he nodded. Madame Pomfrey smiled and then opened the door without a word. Oliver strode out, and placing his arm around Alison's waist, walked towards the door.
Oliver and Alison climbed
through the portrait hole and to their surprise, saw that it was empty. Alison
looked at her watch and realized that it was dinnertime and that everyone else
was probably in the Great Hall. She glanced over at Oliver, and saw him look
around in confusion. His thick hair glowed in the dim light of the fireplace
and Alison felt something stir inside her. She wrapped her arms around his
neck, and pressed her lips against his. Oliver could hear Madame Pomfrey's
words in his head, but the feel of Alison's fingers running through his hair
made him all but forget the warning. Before Oliver knew it, they were in the girls'
dormitory, and Alison was sitting on the bed, beckoning for him to sit down
next to her. She smiled and Oliver's stomach flipped. His conscience was
telling him to stay as far from Alison as possible at that point, but his legs
did not seem to be listening. When Oliver sat down next to her, Alison began to
kiss him gently, and against his will, Oliver kissed her back. He felt her
fingers run along the bare skin of his back, sending a tremor of pleasure
coursing through him. He could feel himself being intoxicated by the smell of
her hair, by her smile, by the graceful, almost feline way in which she pulled
off his shirt and ran her slender fingers along the length of his chest
inciting pleasure the likes of which Oliver had never even dreamed of. Her lips
traveled along the length of his jawbone, and then trailed down his chest.
Oliver's breath was coming in gasps, and he could feel himself losing control.
He wrapped his arms around Alison's body, pressing her against his bare chest,
and his deft fingers explored the material of Alison's robes in search of the
hooks that would reveal Alison to him in all her beauty. At long last, his
fingers touched metal, and he began to undo the hooks, one at a time. When the
last one was undone, he slipped the robes off Alison's shoulders and they fell
unheeded to the floor. Oliver's breath caught in his throat. Alison was more
perfect than he could have ever imagined. Her stomach was flat and toned, and
her breasts firm. Her legs were long and slender and as Oliver discovered,
incredibly smooth. He ran his fingers along her bare calves, and a soft moan
escaped Alison's lips. Madame Pomfrey's words were but a far cry, a distance
echo in the farthest reaches of Oliver's mind. He took Alison in his arms, and
began to kiss her, softly at first, and then as the desire built up inside him,
they grew more passionate, more intense. Oliver was stroking the smooth skin of
her back, admiring her lovely tan skin, when he saw a bruise just below the
small of her back. The bruise was tiny and he most certainly wouldn't have
noticed had he not been at such close quarters, but they brought back the
Nurse's words into Oliver's mind, like a lion roaring in a peaceful glen. His
male instincts were telling him to ignore the Nurse's words, but his brain and
his heart, no longer clouded with desire and lust were telling him to pull
away. For what was possibly one of the first times in his life, Oliver listened
to his brain.
He took a deep breath, and then, he slid out of Alison's hands. Alison looked
startled and murmured, 'what's the matter, Oliver? Did I do something wrong?'
With his back turned to her, Oliver grimaced at the undisguised hurt in her
voice. He picked up his shirt from the floor, and pulled it on. He then turned
back to Alison and said, 'No, you did everything right. It's just…it's just too
soon. I'm sorry.' He handed her robe and then, to stop himself from wondering
what he had just missed out on, he turned to the window and looked out. When
she had pulled on her robe, Alison came up behind him and asked, 'What's the
matter? Why so grim?'
'I'm not…I'm contemplative.'
And then Alison did something that Oliver would never have expected her to do under these circumstances. She laughed. She threw back her head, tossed her hair and laughed the same tinkling laugh that Oliver had fallen in love with. She wrapped her hands around his waist, and together they gazed out of the window.
