Chapter Six
Dinner in Hell
The day, which seemed to have lasted years, was finally comming to an end. As Fred and George made their way down do the Great Hall, they ran into Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
". . .and if we break it down into five pieces and do a piece a day, we can be finished in less than a week! What do you think?" said Hermione, surely speaking of an assignment.
But neither one of them was listening to her. Harry and Ron had stopped in their tracks when they saw Fred and George approaching. Ron glanced at Harry, then at his brother. 'He probably told him' thought Fred.
"Oh, hey guys!" said Hermione. Then she noticed George was the only one to reply. Harry and Fred seemed to be having a staring contest.
Finally Fred looked away and replied. "Hey Hermione." Then he and George left.
"Wow. You were right. What do you think is wrong with him?" Ron whispered to Harry.
Harry sighed, "I don't know. All I know is that ever he saw Oliver and I earlier in the locker room, he's been avoiding us."
Ron left it at that and they jogged to catch up to Hermione who had dissappeared around a corner.
* * * * *
The food appeared on the table and George snatched a chicken leg from the plate. Fred wasn't really in the mood for eating. The image of his best friend kissing his other friend made him sick to his stomach.
Oliver noticed Fred's change in appetite and whispered, "You okay mate?"
Fred looked at him. How he wanted to grab his face and. . .wait what? He shook his head. "No nothing. I'm just not feeling well."
"Oh well, if that's all. But I should tell you, you're gonna need all the energy possible for tomorrows practice. So I suggest you eat at least half of what's on your plate."
Fred sighed and took a bite of corn. He couldn't help but notice how Oliver kept glancing over at Harry and winking, or smiling.
He tried numerous times to leave the table, but Oliver wouldn't let him. He kept insisting he take another bite of this, or another bite of that. He reminded him of his mother.
"So, what's been going on lately Wood?" asked George as he munched on a piece of bread.
"Oh. . .nothing," said Oliver, winking at Fred as if to say 'Yeah right'.
Fred couldn't explain how that one gesture made him feel. It automatically brightened up the remainder of his day. That was, until, Harry approached them and seated himself next to Oliver.
"Hey George, Fred," he blushed slightly as he said the next name, "Oliver."
"Hey," replied George and Oliver in unision. Fred, however, did not reply. Now, all he wanted was to get the hell out of the Great Hall. This, however, was not an option since Oliver insisted he eat all his food.
He tried to keep his gaze down on his plate, instead of at his friend. But he just couldn't help it. He was so determined not to look up that he didn't notice he dropped his fork. He did, however, notice that he was eating his pasta with his fingers. He looked around and couldn't find his fork, so he bent down to retrieve it off the floor.
For one second, he looked at Oliver from under the table, and noticed a hand moving up and down his thigh. That hand was *definately* not Oliver's. He looked to see whose it was and realized it belonged to Harry.
He practically barfed. But that wasn't it. Harry's hand was moving closer and closer to Oliver's. . .ahem. . ."thing". Fred couldn't take it anymore. He got up, slammed his fork on the table, and left.
* * * * *
That night he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, awaiting for sleep to take over him. He had no luck however, and decided to go off for a walk.
Dinner in Hell
The day, which seemed to have lasted years, was finally comming to an end. As Fred and George made their way down do the Great Hall, they ran into Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
". . .and if we break it down into five pieces and do a piece a day, we can be finished in less than a week! What do you think?" said Hermione, surely speaking of an assignment.
But neither one of them was listening to her. Harry and Ron had stopped in their tracks when they saw Fred and George approaching. Ron glanced at Harry, then at his brother. 'He probably told him' thought Fred.
"Oh, hey guys!" said Hermione. Then she noticed George was the only one to reply. Harry and Fred seemed to be having a staring contest.
Finally Fred looked away and replied. "Hey Hermione." Then he and George left.
"Wow. You were right. What do you think is wrong with him?" Ron whispered to Harry.
Harry sighed, "I don't know. All I know is that ever he saw Oliver and I earlier in the locker room, he's been avoiding us."
Ron left it at that and they jogged to catch up to Hermione who had dissappeared around a corner.
* * * * *
The food appeared on the table and George snatched a chicken leg from the plate. Fred wasn't really in the mood for eating. The image of his best friend kissing his other friend made him sick to his stomach.
Oliver noticed Fred's change in appetite and whispered, "You okay mate?"
Fred looked at him. How he wanted to grab his face and. . .wait what? He shook his head. "No nothing. I'm just not feeling well."
"Oh well, if that's all. But I should tell you, you're gonna need all the energy possible for tomorrows practice. So I suggest you eat at least half of what's on your plate."
Fred sighed and took a bite of corn. He couldn't help but notice how Oliver kept glancing over at Harry and winking, or smiling.
He tried numerous times to leave the table, but Oliver wouldn't let him. He kept insisting he take another bite of this, or another bite of that. He reminded him of his mother.
"So, what's been going on lately Wood?" asked George as he munched on a piece of bread.
"Oh. . .nothing," said Oliver, winking at Fred as if to say 'Yeah right'.
Fred couldn't explain how that one gesture made him feel. It automatically brightened up the remainder of his day. That was, until, Harry approached them and seated himself next to Oliver.
"Hey George, Fred," he blushed slightly as he said the next name, "Oliver."
"Hey," replied George and Oliver in unision. Fred, however, did not reply. Now, all he wanted was to get the hell out of the Great Hall. This, however, was not an option since Oliver insisted he eat all his food.
He tried to keep his gaze down on his plate, instead of at his friend. But he just couldn't help it. He was so determined not to look up that he didn't notice he dropped his fork. He did, however, notice that he was eating his pasta with his fingers. He looked around and couldn't find his fork, so he bent down to retrieve it off the floor.
For one second, he looked at Oliver from under the table, and noticed a hand moving up and down his thigh. That hand was *definately* not Oliver's. He looked to see whose it was and realized it belonged to Harry.
He practically barfed. But that wasn't it. Harry's hand was moving closer and closer to Oliver's. . .ahem. . ."thing". Fred couldn't take it anymore. He got up, slammed his fork on the table, and left.
* * * * *
That night he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, awaiting for sleep to take over him. He had no luck however, and decided to go off for a walk.