Fixing to Fly
Chapter Twelve
Author's Note: Greetings, all! A quickie note on Twelve before I let you get to it. This chapter was supposed to be one longer one, but it worked out that I could split it evenly into two parts. Instead of making all you, my wonderful readers and reviewers, wait until I finished the whole chapter, I decided to let you have this little beauty right now! Lots of good Oliver/Darcy action and fun foreshadowing! Hopefully when you get done reading this, you'll be begging for Chapter Thirteen! (Which should be up in another day, my schedule willing.) I've also decided to change the rating of this story to PG-13, as there's nothing more offensive in this story (as of yet) any worse than a little harsh language. There may eventually be an R-rated chapter when Darcy and Oliver get to know each other a little better… ahem. Anyway. A few more responses to various reviewers:
*Carolyn ~ As of January 3rd, I was 17½ years old. Pretty young, huh? But Merlin knows I have days when I feel much older… I call them Mondays… ;)
*Kat ~ Yeah, Darcy's based a lot off me—same physical attributes (hair, eyes, curves, etc) and her sense of humor is totally mine. I am the original graduate of the Sarcastic Girls' School of Smartassery with a degree in Witty Banter, so you and I would likely hit it off like old pals. ;)
*Christi, Jessika, and all the rest who've been waiting for Kotter to get a swift kick in the ass ~ It's coming up! Not this chapter, but the next—I know, that's not fair, I'm keeping you in suspense, but… Oh well, author's prerogative, huh? Hee hee, I'm evil…
Ready for some Twelve? Voila! Enjoy…
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Darcy finally caught up with Kotter at breakfast on Saturday morning. As the blonde-haired male Gryffindor appeared in the Great Hall and took his customary seat at her side, she felt a large swell of relief wash through her, and for the first time in recent memory, she was actually pleased to see him. "Where've you been hiding?" she queried cautiously, her gaze locked on his features for any subtle hint to his mood. "I haven't seen you since yesterday morning."
For a long moment he stared back at her, till a genuinely cheerful smile lit his face. "To be perfectly honest with you, baby, I was in a bit of a bad mood after the meeting. I decided I'd better stay in for the day so I didn't explode on anybody. But I'm better now."
Despite her best efforts, she couldn't prevent the look of perplexity and horror that swept over her features. She did, however, manage not to blurt out, 'Who are you and what have you done with my controlling, ill-natured boyfriend?' Instead, she banished the majority of her unbecoming, slack-jawed shock and managed in a semi-normal voice to relate, "Um… okay. Glad to hear it." After a moment of awkward silence, she added, "If you need notes from Potions, I can loan them to you."
His visage seemed to brighten at this. "Darcy, you're so sweet. I don't tell you that enough, but you are. Oh, I've got something for you," he said and, whipping out his wand, he turned away from her, so she couldn't see what he was doing. Over his shoulder he warned, "No peeking!" and gave his wand precise flick.
Just as the Quidditch captain opened her mouth to comment, she found a bouquet of a dozen gold—yes, gold—roses in her arms.
"I haven't given you any flowers in a while, and I know these are your favorite…" He was watching her anxiously, waiting for her response. "Do you like them?"
"Ah… they're beautiful," she replied honestly as the delicate floral scent of the gift tickled at and delighted her olfactories. "Thank you." She found an empty spot beside her on the table for the roses and sat staring at them as Kotter began to eat. A state of shock had settled over her, not to mention intense suspicion; something was very wrong about this unexpected gift, though she couldn't put her finger on it. What in the name of Merlin was he plotting?
A pleasant voice pulled her out of her musings. "Morning, Darcy."
She gazed up to find Oliver dropping into the spot on her left, where Keely usually sat. The Scottish girl had scooted over to make room for the fourth-year at his request. Turning her attentions to her newly-arrived Keeper, Darcy greeted him with a playful smile. "Hey, Oliver. You're looking alert and enthusiastic for our first practice this morning." She noticed Keely shooting them curious looks and added, "Maybe you can rub a little of that off on Miss Smiles-and-Sunshine over there."
"I hate you," growled the Beater in return. Keely was most certainly not a morning person, and not truly awake till she'd had her breakfast and orange juice. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. Did I mention I hate you?"
Unimpressed, Darcy contemplated her friend with a single raised eyebrow. "Once or twice."
At this Oliver laughed, and went about selecting his breakfast—until Kotter's gift caught his attention. He glanced between the roses and the blonde, then asked in a strangely flat tone, "Those yours, Darcy?"
"Hmm?" She was in the process of masticating a bite of pancake, which became suddenly difficult to swallow when she realized where Oliver's gaze laid. Her own voice took on an oddly unemotional timbre as she answered, "Oh. Those. Um, Kotter gave them to me, just a few minutes ago. As a gift."
"Oh…" he replied, and the tiniest shadow of disappointment crept into his features, dimming his earlier cheer. "They're very beautiful."
The sudden, insane urge popped into her mind to throw the flowers on the ground and stomp on them, at which point she would tell Oliver that no, they were not beautiful, they were the most despicable things she'd ever seen and likely just another bribe from the master of duplicity, her so-called boyfriend. But the only thing that passed from her lips was a weak laugh and the half-hearted comment, "Yeah, they're, ah… they're—"
"Darcy! Oh my Merlin!" Kotter's voice interrupted her, and she found herself being spun to face the male seventh-year. "These are the most wicked hash browns I've ever had! You have got to try some!" He thrust a fork toward her mouth.
Quickly dodging his hand, she said, "That's okay, you go ahead and enjoy them, I'll just get some of my own. Here, pass me the—"
Before she could close her jaw, she found the bite of food jammed onto her tongue, and Kotter staring expectantly at her as she began to chew. Rolling the substance around in her mouth, she noted that these hash browns were the same they'd served for the past seven years at Hogwarts, no better or worse.
"So, what do you think?" demanded the Chaser, smiling.
"They're um… pretty good?" she replied, with hopes of placating her boyfriend so he'd stop trying to feed her. Luckily, this answer seemed to please him, and as he turned to dish up more, no doubt for her consumption, she took the opportunity to bolt upright from her seat. "I, ah, think I'm plenty full for the moment," she announced, and prayed no one could hear the protesting growls of her mostly-empty stomach. "I'm going to head down to the locker room, get an early start. See you all there at ten sharp!"
"Yeah, yeah, Quidditch Nazi," Keely muttered into her biscuits and gravy as the blonde began a hasty retreat out of the Great Hall.
She'd gotten only a few steps when Kotter called out, "Darcy, your roses!"
With an effort, she returned, with a wooden smile painted painfully across her face. She accepted the bundle as he placed them once more into her arms. "Thanks," she managed, and left the room at a pace that could be described only as a controlled run as she fled for the comfort of the Gryffindor locker room.
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Of all the hundreds of places to be at Hogwarts, Darcy's all-time favorite was unquestionably the locker room. Five years of cherished memories existed inside the room that lay beneath the Quidditch stands, and every time she stepped through the doors, a sense of welcoming swept over her, as though she was being greeted by an old friend.
The long rectangular room was done entirely in a deep cherry wood, from the polished floors to the low vaulted ceilings, with varying banners of gold and red hanging on the walls to bring in a touch of color. Spanning the walls to the left and right of the doorway were fourteen equally sized dressing rooms, seven on each side, their doors also cloaked with the alternating Gryffindor colors. Occupying the middle of the room were several rows of benches where the team sat to lace up their protective gear or listen to Darcy pitch to them new plays from the raised platform that dominated the front of the room. On the platform—or, as Keely preferred to call it, Quidditch Queen Darcy's royal throne—stood a dry-erase board and a miniature model of the Quidditch pitch, complete with tiny lifelike models of each member of the House and reserve teams. A door beyond the platform led to the white-tiled shower room.
The Seeker entered the locker room and took a moment to gaze around appreciatively; the colored banners and deep, earthy aroma always reminded her of walking through the forest in autumn. She moved up to her platform and examined the mini-field, where only six little replicas sat at the moment, hers and the rest of the seventh-year team members, but with a quick wave of her wand, eight brand new characters were created to mirror the new reserve team and Oliver. She placed the Oliver miniature next to her own without even thinking about it. She then moved toward her private dressing room to change.
Inside, the wooden flooring changed to a soft red-and-gold carpet—her own addition, of course—and one corner of the room was lined with mirrors. Another corner was dominated by a large wardrobe, where her uniforms hung and her broom was normally stored, along with several other small personal effects such as her toiletries. Opposite this was a thickly padded red velvet chair where she sat to pump herself up before each game, and then cool down afterwards.
In a moment's time, she'd changed out of her school robes and reemerged in Quidditch gear, her leather arm and leg guards freshly oiled. When the first members of the team appeared at a few minutes before ten, they found their captain reclined across the front row of benches, a large red play book spread across her lap.
"Anything special on the agenda today, DC?" asked Brian once he was in uniform. He stopped to peer over her shoulder. "This your new stuff?"
"Mmm-hmm. But I'm not going to try and teach it to you today," she said, and let the heavy book fall shut. "I mostly just want us to get back in the habit… for those of who didn't get the chance to practice during the summer." Kotter had appeared in the locker room as she bitterly made this last comment. To Brian, she added, "I also want to see how well Oliver's going to mesh with the rest of the team."
Lowering his voice, the Beater queried, "You think Kotter's going to be any trouble?"
She sighed unhappily. "If he is, I'm going to kick his sorry ass off my Quidditch field. I've told him, as I've told all of you, I don't care what you think of your teammates otherwise, but when you step into the pitch, you better be treating them all like your brothers and sisters. Every last one of you is too good to be disrespecting each other."
"You know that's never mattered to Kotter…" His tone was apologetic.
"Well, it's gonna start mattering. He has no breathing room right now with me when it comes to his behavior, and I refuse to tolerate his mood swings."
To lighten his friend's sullen mood, Brian put on a playful smile and said, "Well, he seemed in a pretty chipper mood this morning; maybe you'll get lucky and he'll stay that way for a while. What was with the flowers, by the way?"
She shrugged. "Don't know. But I don't mind telling you I'm a bit wary. He's pulled stunts like that before, usually when he intends to—" She never finished her thought, as Kotter chose that moment to emerge from his dressing room. As he joined she and Brian, she said, "You guys can go on out to the field and start warming up; I've just got a few things to finish here."
"Okay, babe," Kotter replied, and then left her with a grin and a comment that made the girl very nervous: "I think we'll have an… interesting practice today."
An unsettling niggle found residence deep within her gut as she watched the Chaser stroll out to the field, but her mind was quickly forced to other things as Keely, Loren, and Toby entered the locker room and began to gear up. She put her attention back to finishing her play as she waited for Oliver to arrive; she wanted to have a word with him before they hit the field.
Five minutes later, the last member of the Gryffindor team came puffing into the locker room, an embarrassed smile on his face as he gasped an explanation to the captain. "Sorry I'm so late. I went up to my dorm after breakfast to get my broom, but I couldn't find it anywhere!"
It was Darcy's turn to flash an abashed grin. "Oops, my bad. I forgot to tell you: all the team members' broomsticks are transferred down here to the locker room on the first day of practice."
"Yeah, Percy finally came upstairs and told me that after I'd torn apart my half of the room. He isn't too happy with me right now," he told her with a laugh.
The Seeker snorted. "I'd imagine. Just tell him it was my fault."
"Oh, he already thinks it's partially your fault. So I guess we're both in the doghouse."
Seeing that her Keeper was back to his usual buoyant self despite their earlier awkward moment, she easily produced a dazzling smile. "We'll buy him dinner next time we all go to Hogsmeade," she suggested as she stood and tucked her play book beneath an arm. "Anyway. I wanted to give you a quick heads-up before we start practice today. First thing: this is your private dressing room." She led him to an empty room, the one conveniently next to her own. "For as long as you're on the Gryffindor team, this will be your room. You can put whatever you want in there: broomstick, uniforms, change of clothes, play books, etceteras. Bottom line—it's your room."
"Cool," said Oliver, stepping into the room and investigating its furnishings. As he opened the wardrobe doors to reveal a crisp and clean Quidditch uniform hanging within, he began, "Hey, I thought you said—"
"That's yours," she interrupted, pulling out the robes, "if you'd ever let me finish talking. There'll be two more up in your dorm, when you check. Made at Madame Malkin's, so they should fit you perfectly, as that woman never forgets a robe size for anyone. If they don't fit, well… you can take it up with her yourself."
He laughed. "I'm sure they'll be fine. Anything else I should know?"
"Mmm… nope. Other than watch yourself today while you're on the field. We're not doing anything fancy, just basic plays and warm-up exercises, but this'll be the first time you get to play with us all, so it'll take you a bit to get used to all our styles."
"What about you? What'll you be doing the whole time?"
She raised a curious eyebrow at this. Was he keeping tabs on her… or was he worried about Kotter's behavior, too? "For today, for the first half of practice at least, I'll be flying amongst you guys and just kind of watching, see how you all do. If it's looking good, not a lot of problems, then I'll bring out the Snitch and leave you guys to your own devices for a while."
"Can I ask you a favor then?" His expression was suddenly sober and intense, the face of a businessman, one who took his Quidditch very seriously. "I want you to keep an especially close eye on me, and everything I do that you think I could improve, any weaknesses you see, I want you to tell me, so I can continue to work on perfecting my game."
Barely preventing herself from gawking at the boy in surprise, she answered, "Of course, I'll do what I can." The wonder that was Oliver Wood never seemed to cease. She had never had any player ask her to openly criticize them in order to better their performance. And what was more, she was now allowed to stare freely at the attractive brown-eyed Scot…
Shut up! she hissed at the voice in her mind that dared to think such a thought. You're in enough trouble already with Kotter because of Oliver Pretty-Eyes Wood.
A short argument between her various personalities ensued, and when she finally drifted back to the locker rooms, the fourth-year was staring at her with an amused smirk spanning his features. Darcy felt the tips of her ears go pink. "Um, ahem. Yeah. Um, why don't you go ahead and change then, Oliver, and join us all out on the field when you're ready."
"Aye-aye, Captain," he teased, and disappeared into his dressing room.
The blonde gave her brain-voices one last warning to clam up, then made her own way out onto the field, trying to ignore the very persistent feeling that she was walking into trouble.
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Departing Note: Guess who bought the Signs DVD on Tuesday? Oh yeah, you bet I did. So you should be able to expect some sweet new chapters to my Signs story, Again—as well as tons of excellent new chapters for Fixing to Fly, of course. Chapter Thirteen should be up by tomorrow night, Saturday night at the latest, so shoot me a review and tell me what you think might happen, we'll see if you're right!
My deepest thanks, as always ~ Adele