Heading down the hall toward his rooms, Oliver paused just before a corner
as he heard a woman's American voice.
"What's wrong, luv? You're a first year, correct?"
"Y-Yes." A child's voice managed, followed by sniffles. Peeking around the
corner, Oliver watched as Angel , donned in blue robes, knelt before the
blonde girl, who obviously was small for her age.
"I'm Angel. What's your name?"
As she spoke, Angel sat beside the girl and ignored the dust that covered
the floor between the two coats of armor as she put her arm around the
child.
"H-Helen."
"And what's wrong, Helen? Homesick?"
"I...Yes." Tears started to stream down the girl's face and Angel's face
softened as she lifted some of her hair and wiped the child's tears away.
Fighting a shudder, Oliver wished Angel would touch him with the same
gentleness and care, and found himself nearly sweating in desire. Leaning
against the cool stone wall, he clenched his fists and concentrated on
Angel's words.
"It's hard to move to a new place without your family. Mine is in America
and like you, I'm new here and know no one."
"Really?" Helen asked, her green eyes wide with innocent trust.
"Yes. Making friends can be difficult but there are ten first years in
your House. Like you, they are in a new place with no family or friends.
All you need to do is find something in common with one."
"What if I can't?" Helen managed, nervously biting her bottom lip as she
picked at some invisible lint on her robe."
"Well, what do you like? I'm sure if we find something, then we can ask
around for someone else who likes it as well."
"But I have Muggle parents! No one else knows some of the tings I
like...Like football."
Chuckling, Angel tugged on one of Helen's pigtails.
"I understand, luv. I'm the same, though it's an American sport called ice
hockey that's my passion. Still, find a Quidditch fan and ask them to
teach you about it. Then you can teach the about soccer. Or find someone
who likes the same class you do."
"A girl Quidditch fan?!" Helen frowned with disbelief and Angel sighed.
"I'm sure there's at least one First year girl who enjoys Quidditch or even
soccer. We just..."
"Need to ask me." Oliver finished, coming into view. Kneeling before the
pair, he smiled warmly at the girl then at Angel with a different sort of
warmth that caused her to drop her gaze and flush slightly while she rubbed
her shoulder which had begun to throb at the sound of his voice. Turning
his attention back to the small eleven year old, Oliver offered her his
hand, helping her to stand.
"I happen to know that Catherine Webster, also Muggle born, is a huge fan
of both Quidditch and football. She's in Ravenclaw too, I believe."
"She is?!" Helen exclaimed, brightening as Oliver turned and offered his
hand to Angel.
"Aye. I'll introduce her to you in flying class, if you like."
"Thank you!"
Helen scampered off then, but neither adult noticed. As Angel reached
thankfully for his assistance, her hand wouldn't touch Oliver's own.
Knitting her brows, she pushed her hand toward him again and felt as if
she'd come up against an invisible wall.
"What..."
"Try again." Oliver ordered, frowning in concentration as they both lifted
their hands again and tried to touch. Reaching, they got their hands just
to meeting before something stopped them both as if a piece of glass were
between them.
"Blood hell." Oliver muttered as he tried to touch her knee this time, with
the same result.
"Maybe..."
Angel reached up and touched his black robes easily and encouraged, moved
the cloth to touch his knee, but she was stopped again.
"Can you take this?" Oliver asked, handing out the Quidditch robe box as
Angel scrambled inelegantly to her feet.
"Um..."
She easily took the box, but was unable to brush her fingers against his as
she did so.
"Well, this is certainly worse than flying apart when I touch ya!" Oliver
growled, frustrated as he took back the box. Sighing, Angel raked a hand
through her hair.
"Damn this curse!" She finally exclaimed, meeting Oliver's blue eyes with
her own, equally as frustrated.
"Curse?! What curse?!"
Slumping slightly, Angel rubbed her forehead irritably.
"We'd best discuss this a bit. Come with me."
Reaching out to take his arm to guide him, Angel met the barrier and there
up her hands angrily before stalking down the hall with Oliver on her
heels.
She'd led him to her own apartments and as Oliver dropped into a comfortable arm chair, he looked around with unconcealed curiosity. Irish themed afghans lay folded over the backs of both chairs. Figurines and knickknacks from all over the world decorated the shelves and there seemed to be books on any free surface. "Overflow books form my library upstairs." Angel explained as Oliver picked one up off the table and opened it to discover it was full of handwritten pages. "Oh yeah." Angel showed slight embarrassment as she sat down in the matching chair across from him. "Some of them are journals of my writing." "That's a gift I don't have." Oliver said with a smile, putting her at ease as he set the book aside. "I know its still morning, but I need this." Angel pulled out a maple wand with cherry wood handle and waved it slightly, causing a complete tea set to appear on the table between them. "Cream and sugar?" She asked, pouring him a cup from the silver teapot. "Sugar only...two cubes." Oliver answered, thankfully taking the china cup and saucer from her with care. "Now about this curse..." Angel tensed immediately, but found herself putting her cup of tea down because the pain in her shoulder was making holding anything difficult.
'Every time he speaks...stabbing pain.' "Ex-boyfriend." She stated with a dry smile. "Wizard, I assume?" Oliver commented, his voice tight with jealously. "More like a sorcerer, the bastard." Angel muttered, pleating her robe and missing Oliver's lightened expression at her statement. At that moment, a small black fur ball seemed to fly up into Angel's lap and she smiled absently as it promptly began purring contentedly. "A Puffskein?" Smiling at Oliver, Angel nodded. "This is Puggles." "Ah." "Anyway, Pierre couldn't just let go and move on. I was telling him how I didn't wish to see him again when he muttered something and I was hit with a spell that knocked me out. When I woke up, I had a mark on my shoulder and Pierre was smiling like the Cheshire cat." "A mark on your shoulder?" Oliver asked hesitantly, setting down his tea. "It's a..." Meeting his eyes, Angel was caught hypnotically in the intensity of the gaze and she swallowed hard. "S-Shall I show you?" Nodding slowly, Oliver watched wide eyed as Angel got to her feet and took off the wizard robe to reveal that she wore Muggle jeans and a button down, silk white shirt. Turning her back to him, she unbuttoned the shirt and dropped it over her left shoulder just low enough to show the mark. Oliver gasped sharply in surprise and Angel glanced over her shoulder at him. He pointed at the mark silently with a perplexed expression and Angel spun to where a mirror hung over the fireplace to look at her back. "Why's it..." Oliver broke off as the mark seemed to be etched in lines of fire and the lines brightened as he spoke. "Damn...I knew it hurt when you spoke, but I had no idea it was..." "It hurts when I speak?!" Oliver repeated, jumping to his feet, obviously furious. "Um...yes." Crossing to her, Oliver reached to grab her arm and spin her around and realizing he'd be unable to touch her, Angel turned to face him. "Why?! This mark is of the bloody curse, but what does the curse entail?!" "We cannot touch and the mark of the heart feels like a...stabbing every time you speak. That's all Pierre told me." Angel explained, her blue eyes wide as she pulled her shirt up on her shoulder. "Why me...Or is it any person? No, you touched Helen." Oliver mused. "Just men? Males?" "Um..." Her mind raced and Angel quickly decided not to tell him about the bond between them. "Men." She lied finally. "Are you going to get it removed?" Oliver asked more calmly, suddenly noticing her unbuttoned shirt and distracted by the sight of her bra and breasts. "I'm hoping Dumbledore can help. P-Part of w-why I came here." Oliver looked up to meet Angel's eyes and found hers were dark with desire as well. Unconsciously moving to kiss her, Oliver swore as he came just to touching and slammed into the barrier again. "I'm sorry, Oliver." Angel whispered, "But we'll have to be just friends." Leaning like he was laying his forehead against hers, Oliver smiled and nodded. "For now perhaps, aye."
It was an extremely warm fall day and during her free period, Angel sat on a blanket on the lawn. She was grading papers on the Russian creature, Pogrebin and how to defeat the stone-looking dark animal as she watched Oliver teach Helen's flying class.
'Hermione: "A" as usual. She's such a good...' "Angel, look out luv!" Oliver's Scottish brogue called out frantically. Glancing up, she saw a first year boy hurtling toward her with obvious lack of control and she quickly flicked out her wand. "Impedimenta!" The boy froze inanimately in the air less than two feet from falling onto Angel, a look of worry on his ruddy cheeked face and his brown eyes wide. Oliver was immediately at her side and just managed to stop himself from reaching out to pull her up to him, instead kneeling beside her. "That was quick thinkin'! Are you alright?" "I'm fine. I suggest we pull the boy down so I can free him from the spell." "Oh, right. Bobby." Standing on tiptoe, Oliver reached up and caught the hem of the boy's black robe and tugged hard toward him. Bobby's motionless body fell hard to the grass next to Oliver as his professor grimaced. "Hope he wont feel that." Muttering under her breath, Angel didn't answer as she freed Bobby from the spell. Tumbling from the broomstick, the boy smothered a yelp and rolled in the grass before jumping upright. "Sorry, Professor Hyland! I..." "No harm done, luv. Don't worry." Angel soothed with a smile. "Go join the class, Bobby. They're practicing some more at the kick off." "Yes, sir!" The boy scampered off, broom in hand and Oliver watched him for a moment before turning back to where Angel sat, an amused smile on her face as she followed the boy's run. "What're you up to?" Oliver asked, dropping down to the blanket beside her after picking up a pile of papers. He glanced over them and raised an eyebrow. "Pogrebins?" "Yes...I don't know how to show one to the students though. They grasp the concept, but being under the effect to the hopelessness that a Pogrebin projects is quite different in truth than they can imagine." She was frowning, flipping through the essays and Oliver tried to ignore how cute the expression of frustration made her look. "Try a boggart perhaps?" He suggested, handing her the papers he held. "That'd be difficult...If any student thinks of something other than a Pogrebin..." "I'm sure you could keep the boggart a..." "Not really." Angel interrupted with a smile. "I don't and never have feared Pogrebins." "Really?" Oliver looked impressed, making Angel blush slightly, but she didn't look away as she slid papers into her leather briefcase. "Yeah...At this point, I'd probably turn the boggart to Pierre. Frightening the students with an icy, haughty French-Canadian wizard, who's handsome in a cold, blonde, snobbish sort of way." She smiled dryly, but the smile faded as Oliver grimaced and fidgeted uncomfortably. "Oliver? What's wrong?" "Handsome, was he?" Oliver asked, his eyes flashing with hurt and jealousy. Angel was tempted to smile at what that look meant about his feelings for her, but smothered it, knowing he would be hurt if she did so. "I couldn't lie and say he wasn't good looking, but he never really was my type. He just...Wore me down until I said yes, I think." She admitted honestly. "Not for blondes? What's your type then?" Oliver unconsciously leaned closer to her, searching her face and Angel smiled warmly, meeting his gaze squarely. "I'm fond of British accents...Particularly Scottish. Blue eyes are excellent...Athletic, classically handsome and perhaps fond of Quidditch." "C'moan!" He shot back with a grin, flushing slightly. Sighing with an amused look, Angel watched him under her lashes. "True, and it's a good thing we've got this wall just now or that grin would get me into loads of trouble." Inhaling sharply, Oliver's eyes darkened and he moved quickly to kiss her. To the pair's surprise, he was brought up short by the barrier at a distance from Angel's face that was an obvious distance it had never been as far as. "What was that?!" Oliver demanded, rubbing his forehead with a confused look. They heard giggling then and turned to see his students watching, laughing at how he jerked for no reason in their eyes. "Class is over, you lot! Leave the brooms and go to lunch!" He hollered, the threat obvious and causing the students to scatter quickly for the castle. After they'd disappeared, Angel turned back to Oliver with a pained and thoughtful expression. "I suppose that you were brought up short that way because of....your intentions, yeah?" Groaning, Oliver dropped back on the blanket, covering his yes with his arms. Angel remained silent, admiring how his long legs stretched out casually, the robe laying smooth over his flat stomach and the profile of his handsome face as he dropped his arms over his head. "I've never been so frustrated in me life." He exclaimed, turning his head to look over at her. "Yes, it is physically..." "No! Physically, mentally and emotionally! This is worse than when the Quidditch cup was cancelled my sixth year 'cause the Chamber of Secrets was opened!" Angel quirked and eyebrow in amusement and Oliver's expression immediately became repentant as he moved to lean back on his elbows. "I didn't mean to say you're the same as a sport! I only..." "Darling, don't fret! I know how you meant it and am flattered since I'm aware how much you enjoy the sport. I get the compliment!" Relaxing, Oliver lay back again, his hands behind his head. "So it's just the curse at work again. Have ya been workin' on reversing it?" "I...no." Angel admitted. "Classes have taken more of my time than I thought. This weekend, with the third years and above at Hogsmeade and my papers graded, is my first free one." Rolling to his side, Oliver propped his head on his hand, looking up at her. "I have to practice some Quidditch...Still on the Puddlemere United reserve team. But after that I can help look for a...reversal spell or removal or something. It's serve that bastard right if we sent it back at him and he was left untouchable by the opposite sex." Oliver finished bitterly. Nodding, Angel knew Pierre could care less about finding his 'true love' and that letting no woman touch him would be a spell he'd resent, but that's not what the reversal of her curse would do.
She'd led him to her own apartments and as Oliver dropped into a comfortable arm chair, he looked around with unconcealed curiosity. Irish themed afghans lay folded over the backs of both chairs. Figurines and knickknacks from all over the world decorated the shelves and there seemed to be books on any free surface. "Overflow books form my library upstairs." Angel explained as Oliver picked one up off the table and opened it to discover it was full of handwritten pages. "Oh yeah." Angel showed slight embarrassment as she sat down in the matching chair across from him. "Some of them are journals of my writing." "That's a gift I don't have." Oliver said with a smile, putting her at ease as he set the book aside. "I know its still morning, but I need this." Angel pulled out a maple wand with cherry wood handle and waved it slightly, causing a complete tea set to appear on the table between them. "Cream and sugar?" She asked, pouring him a cup from the silver teapot. "Sugar only...two cubes." Oliver answered, thankfully taking the china cup and saucer from her with care. "Now about this curse..." Angel tensed immediately, but found herself putting her cup of tea down because the pain in her shoulder was making holding anything difficult.
'Every time he speaks...stabbing pain.' "Ex-boyfriend." She stated with a dry smile. "Wizard, I assume?" Oliver commented, his voice tight with jealously. "More like a sorcerer, the bastard." Angel muttered, pleating her robe and missing Oliver's lightened expression at her statement. At that moment, a small black fur ball seemed to fly up into Angel's lap and she smiled absently as it promptly began purring contentedly. "A Puffskein?" Smiling at Oliver, Angel nodded. "This is Puggles." "Ah." "Anyway, Pierre couldn't just let go and move on. I was telling him how I didn't wish to see him again when he muttered something and I was hit with a spell that knocked me out. When I woke up, I had a mark on my shoulder and Pierre was smiling like the Cheshire cat." "A mark on your shoulder?" Oliver asked hesitantly, setting down his tea. "It's a..." Meeting his eyes, Angel was caught hypnotically in the intensity of the gaze and she swallowed hard. "S-Shall I show you?" Nodding slowly, Oliver watched wide eyed as Angel got to her feet and took off the wizard robe to reveal that she wore Muggle jeans and a button down, silk white shirt. Turning her back to him, she unbuttoned the shirt and dropped it over her left shoulder just low enough to show the mark. Oliver gasped sharply in surprise and Angel glanced over her shoulder at him. He pointed at the mark silently with a perplexed expression and Angel spun to where a mirror hung over the fireplace to look at her back. "Why's it..." Oliver broke off as the mark seemed to be etched in lines of fire and the lines brightened as he spoke. "Damn...I knew it hurt when you spoke, but I had no idea it was..." "It hurts when I speak?!" Oliver repeated, jumping to his feet, obviously furious. "Um...yes." Crossing to her, Oliver reached to grab her arm and spin her around and realizing he'd be unable to touch her, Angel turned to face him. "Why?! This mark is of the bloody curse, but what does the curse entail?!" "We cannot touch and the mark of the heart feels like a...stabbing every time you speak. That's all Pierre told me." Angel explained, her blue eyes wide as she pulled her shirt up on her shoulder. "Why me...Or is it any person? No, you touched Helen." Oliver mused. "Just men? Males?" "Um..." Her mind raced and Angel quickly decided not to tell him about the bond between them. "Men." She lied finally. "Are you going to get it removed?" Oliver asked more calmly, suddenly noticing her unbuttoned shirt and distracted by the sight of her bra and breasts. "I'm hoping Dumbledore can help. P-Part of w-why I came here." Oliver looked up to meet Angel's eyes and found hers were dark with desire as well. Unconsciously moving to kiss her, Oliver swore as he came just to touching and slammed into the barrier again. "I'm sorry, Oliver." Angel whispered, "But we'll have to be just friends." Leaning like he was laying his forehead against hers, Oliver smiled and nodded. "For now perhaps, aye."
It was an extremely warm fall day and during her free period, Angel sat on a blanket on the lawn. She was grading papers on the Russian creature, Pogrebin and how to defeat the stone-looking dark animal as she watched Oliver teach Helen's flying class.
'Hermione: "A" as usual. She's such a good...' "Angel, look out luv!" Oliver's Scottish brogue called out frantically. Glancing up, she saw a first year boy hurtling toward her with obvious lack of control and she quickly flicked out her wand. "Impedimenta!" The boy froze inanimately in the air less than two feet from falling onto Angel, a look of worry on his ruddy cheeked face and his brown eyes wide. Oliver was immediately at her side and just managed to stop himself from reaching out to pull her up to him, instead kneeling beside her. "That was quick thinkin'! Are you alright?" "I'm fine. I suggest we pull the boy down so I can free him from the spell." "Oh, right. Bobby." Standing on tiptoe, Oliver reached up and caught the hem of the boy's black robe and tugged hard toward him. Bobby's motionless body fell hard to the grass next to Oliver as his professor grimaced. "Hope he wont feel that." Muttering under her breath, Angel didn't answer as she freed Bobby from the spell. Tumbling from the broomstick, the boy smothered a yelp and rolled in the grass before jumping upright. "Sorry, Professor Hyland! I..." "No harm done, luv. Don't worry." Angel soothed with a smile. "Go join the class, Bobby. They're practicing some more at the kick off." "Yes, sir!" The boy scampered off, broom in hand and Oliver watched him for a moment before turning back to where Angel sat, an amused smile on her face as she followed the boy's run. "What're you up to?" Oliver asked, dropping down to the blanket beside her after picking up a pile of papers. He glanced over them and raised an eyebrow. "Pogrebins?" "Yes...I don't know how to show one to the students though. They grasp the concept, but being under the effect to the hopelessness that a Pogrebin projects is quite different in truth than they can imagine." She was frowning, flipping through the essays and Oliver tried to ignore how cute the expression of frustration made her look. "Try a boggart perhaps?" He suggested, handing her the papers he held. "That'd be difficult...If any student thinks of something other than a Pogrebin..." "I'm sure you could keep the boggart a..." "Not really." Angel interrupted with a smile. "I don't and never have feared Pogrebins." "Really?" Oliver looked impressed, making Angel blush slightly, but she didn't look away as she slid papers into her leather briefcase. "Yeah...At this point, I'd probably turn the boggart to Pierre. Frightening the students with an icy, haughty French-Canadian wizard, who's handsome in a cold, blonde, snobbish sort of way." She smiled dryly, but the smile faded as Oliver grimaced and fidgeted uncomfortably. "Oliver? What's wrong?" "Handsome, was he?" Oliver asked, his eyes flashing with hurt and jealousy. Angel was tempted to smile at what that look meant about his feelings for her, but smothered it, knowing he would be hurt if she did so. "I couldn't lie and say he wasn't good looking, but he never really was my type. He just...Wore me down until I said yes, I think." She admitted honestly. "Not for blondes? What's your type then?" Oliver unconsciously leaned closer to her, searching her face and Angel smiled warmly, meeting his gaze squarely. "I'm fond of British accents...Particularly Scottish. Blue eyes are excellent...Athletic, classically handsome and perhaps fond of Quidditch." "C'moan!" He shot back with a grin, flushing slightly. Sighing with an amused look, Angel watched him under her lashes. "True, and it's a good thing we've got this wall just now or that grin would get me into loads of trouble." Inhaling sharply, Oliver's eyes darkened and he moved quickly to kiss her. To the pair's surprise, he was brought up short by the barrier at a distance from Angel's face that was an obvious distance it had never been as far as. "What was that?!" Oliver demanded, rubbing his forehead with a confused look. They heard giggling then and turned to see his students watching, laughing at how he jerked for no reason in their eyes. "Class is over, you lot! Leave the brooms and go to lunch!" He hollered, the threat obvious and causing the students to scatter quickly for the castle. After they'd disappeared, Angel turned back to Oliver with a pained and thoughtful expression. "I suppose that you were brought up short that way because of....your intentions, yeah?" Groaning, Oliver dropped back on the blanket, covering his yes with his arms. Angel remained silent, admiring how his long legs stretched out casually, the robe laying smooth over his flat stomach and the profile of his handsome face as he dropped his arms over his head. "I've never been so frustrated in me life." He exclaimed, turning his head to look over at her. "Yes, it is physically..." "No! Physically, mentally and emotionally! This is worse than when the Quidditch cup was cancelled my sixth year 'cause the Chamber of Secrets was opened!" Angel quirked and eyebrow in amusement and Oliver's expression immediately became repentant as he moved to lean back on his elbows. "I didn't mean to say you're the same as a sport! I only..." "Darling, don't fret! I know how you meant it and am flattered since I'm aware how much you enjoy the sport. I get the compliment!" Relaxing, Oliver lay back again, his hands behind his head. "So it's just the curse at work again. Have ya been workin' on reversing it?" "I...no." Angel admitted. "Classes have taken more of my time than I thought. This weekend, with the third years and above at Hogsmeade and my papers graded, is my first free one." Rolling to his side, Oliver propped his head on his hand, looking up at her. "I have to practice some Quidditch...Still on the Puddlemere United reserve team. But after that I can help look for a...reversal spell or removal or something. It's serve that bastard right if we sent it back at him and he was left untouchable by the opposite sex." Oliver finished bitterly. Nodding, Angel knew Pierre could care less about finding his 'true love' and that letting no woman touch him would be a spell he'd resent, but that's not what the reversal of her curse would do.