Fixing to Fly
Chapter Sixteen
Author's Note: Sorry about the bit of extended wait on this one. My social life decided to make a surprising reappearance in the last few days. I said two chapters this weekend, and well, technically, it is still my weekend (go Martin Luther King Day!) Anyway. Seventeen should be up later this evening, I imagine. I just wanted to give you this now to tide you over.
I'll warn you now, it's a bit angsty toward the end and delves a little into psychology (but not so deeply that your average Jane like me couldn't understand it). This chapter is mostly for Christi, who voiced some very intelligent concerns in her last review. Hopefully, this'll help her, and all of you, to understand the many unanswered whys of our dear Darcy Reed. And for dracos-gurl, two of the most entertaining Oliver-centric stories, in my opinion, are Chasing Mr. Wood by iloverupert13 and How I Hate Loving Oliver Wood by Kira Ashkelon, if you haven't yet read them. They're both done in Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging-style (a book I have yet but definitely desire to read.
Blahblahblah. Enough from me! Here is your chapter.
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Sunday afternoon found the Gryffindor locker room in a bustle of excited activity as the seven Quidditch players prepared for their scrimmage. Darcy, who had taken her lunch on the pitch as she drew out a few last plays—she often got bursts of inspiration before games—rested now on the room's raised platform, watching her teammates get ready. Though her gaze followed around the scarlet-and-gold-clad players, her mind wandered elsewhere, as had become common practice for her as of late.
Unsurprisingly, her thoughts were of Kotter and Oliver. Do I ever think of anything else these days? she mused to herself, as she reached back to braid her long gold hair. Kotter had behaved all the previous night and into the next morning, but her intuition was still unsettled by her boyfriend, yet another occurrence that seemed to be a regular part of her life.
None of their friends had said anything yesterday when Kotter had walked back into the Three Broomsticks with a swollen jaw. Neither he nor Darcy had offered any explanation, and he'd gone to see Madam Pomfrey upon their return to the school. The only reminder of their fight had been healed in a matter of minutes, but the rest of the Quidditch team continued to watch their famous couple with concern—well, concern for Darcy, suspicion for Kotter. At some point or another over the course of Saturday night, all five of Darcy's other teammates had approached her to ask if she was okay. Only Brian had gotten the full story.
Of all those to check up on her, she felt worst about lying to Oliver. Poor, sweet Oliver, whose only concern was her happiness and welfare, and she couldn't even tell him the truth, as it revolved too closely around him. Poor, poor Oliver, she thought again, finishing a French braid down one side of her head and switching to the other. Innocent Oliver. Kind Oliver. Sexy Oliver. Loveable Oliver…
"Shut up, you," she hissed at the voice, which giggled infuriatingly back at her.
"What?" demanded Keely, who'd been passing by as the captain had spoken. "I was just telling you the truth! The stadium's almost full, I was just out there!"
Darcy stared at her, confused. "You were talking to me?"
For a second the Beater looked annoyed, but then worry swept over her features. "Are you sure you're okay, DC? You've not been yourself since Hogsmeade yesterday…" She sent a suddenly venomous look over her shoulder where Kotter sat oiling his arm guards. "You are absolutely positive he didn't do anything to you…? Because if he did, I swear by Merlin he will never be able to sit down the same way again…"
Despite her troubled thoughts, the blonde had to smile. "I'm okay, Keely, I promise you. But thanks anyway for having my back, sistah." She reached out and locked hands with her friend, a gesture of support and assurance that satisfied both.
"I've got to go lace up my pads," said Keely, nodding toward her dressing room, "and get ready to bust some Ravenclaw heads."
"All right, girl. Just remember, save the worst of your wrath for Slytherin, huh?"
Keely gave her hair a toss and flashed the Quidditch captain a sassy smirk. "Honey, you underestimate just how much wrath I possess."
Laughter broke over Darcy as the Scottish Beater strode off to her dressing room. The blonde had to marvel at the remarkable people that were her friends; she knew that was part of the reason she hadn't yet been broken by Kotter's possessiveness. As strong as her own will proved to be, it was often the support of her friends that kept her going through the days.
A glance at her watch indicated five minutes until they were due on the field. She stood and was giving the laces of her protective gear a last tightening when Loren burst into the locker room, panting as though he'd run the whole way. "Ze pitch, it iz insane!" he announced, swiping a hand across his sweat-soaked brow. "Ze stadium iz filled avec tout l'ecôle!"
"I take it that means it's full?" Darcy queried of Brian as the male Beater walked by.
"You got it, girlfriend. I guess everybody just couldn't wait till November for the actual season to start." He shrugged, thoughtfully eyeing his club, which he'd just finished oiling. "Or maybe they just can't wait another month to see the Quidditch Queen back on her broom."
The captain sighed, annoyed. "Don't make me kill you, Brian."
"Hey, it was just a thought." For a second time he shrugged. "Maybe it's actually Keeper Boy here they're looking for." Brian caught Oliver with an arm around the neck as the fourth-year passed and gave him a brotherly punch to the shoulder. "Which is just fine with me, because Wood here's gonna show 'em how we kick ass Gryffindor style. Right, Wood?"
"Um, sure!" Oliver returned with an amused smile.
Brian gave his back a hard slap, knocking the Keeper forward a step. "That's what I like to hear! Five minutes left, right DC?"
Darcy consulted her watch. "Righto."
"Sweet. Think I've got just enough time to buff this thing again…" He wandered off to find a chamois cloth for his much-beloved Beater's club while the Seeker and Keeper exchanged amused glances.
"I think that thing will fall apart one of these days," she mused.
"Wouldn't doubt it." Oliver laughed, and joined her on the cool wooden floor. She shot him an attractive smile.
"So what do you think, Ollie? You nervous?"
He considered for a moment, then shook his head. "No, not really. For some reason, I feel totally confident about today. I don't know if it's that we're playing Ravenclaw… or if it's just you make me—make us all feel so confident, like we're the best team in the world." He flushed a bit at the slip of his own tongue.
"That's because we are the best team in the world," she replied in complete seriousness.
Oliver smiled, rose to his feet, and offered a hand to Darcy, pulling her easily off the ground. "You know, when you say it, I think I actually believe it," he admitted, and tugged playfully at the girl's twin braids. "I also think it's time we hit the field, you know?"
"I do know," she laughed, and to the Gryffindor team as a whole, she announced, "All right, guys; it's go time!"
* * *
Gliding just inches above the grassy pitch, Darcy lay stretched out along the length of her Nimbus, with only her legs locked around the stick to keep her on her broom. Both arms were extended before the girl as she sped after the wildly fleeing Snitch. Above and all around her, the Quidditch stadium was drowned in cheers as spectators anxiously watched the field.
Her fingertips grazed over the cool golden ball, and seconds later, she held the struggling thing in her grasp. The Seeker sighed; it was just too easy. They'd only been playing for thirty minutes, and the past twenty had involved only her in pursuit of the Snitch—the Ravenclaw Seeker had succumbed to the Wronski Feint early in the game.
Straightening up on her broom, she hovered back up into the air, the Snitch extended for all to see. A collective groan came from Ravenclaw and their supporters while the rest cheered for Gryffindor's victory. The final score was announced: 210 to 30.
"Geez, that didn't last long," commented Keely as she flew up alongside the captain. "I only got to knock two people off their brooms!"
"Listen to the crowd though; I've never heard them so noisy," Brian interjected as he joined his teammates. "It wasn't even a real season game! It's not like we won any points for the House or anything." He paused, considered, then amended, "Well, I guess that's not entirely true. McGonagall did give us thirty points for leadership and initiative…"
"But Flitwick gave Ravenclaw thirty too, for accepting the offer," Toby pointed out. All seven scarlet-robed players were now gathered together on the ground, waiting for the Ravenclaw team to regroup and meet them centerfield for the customary good-sportsmanship post-game handshake. As they filed past the Ravenclaws in their blue and silver robes, the two captains were the last to shake.
Evan Rockford smiled good-naturedly at Darcy. "Not half bad, Reed, for only a month's worth of practice. Your new Keeper's a real sharp one, too."
"Thanks, Rock. Sorry I crashed-and-burned your Seeker, by the way."
The Ravenclaw laughed. "Don't get too cocky yet, your Royal Quidditch Highness. Just wait till the season begins. We'll see who's still smirking after we beat your pink-wearing asses."
"It's scarlet, not pink," she shot back, and grinned. "You're starting to smell a little ripe there, Rock—think it's time you hit the showers."
"Right back at you, Reed," replied the blue-clad captain, and the two teams parted and headed away to their respective locker rooms.
Darcy found her team waiting for her when she entered the room, and received a welcoming round of applause while she eyed them all with weary skepticism. "What? I didn't tear another hole in my pants, did I?" she demanded, immediately checking her uniform for any embarrassingly-located rips. She still remembered all too well the game against Slytherin two years previous when she'd played the majority of the match with her bikini-style blue silk panties on full display to the crowd.
"DC, you're paranoid," said Keely with a laugh, throwing one of her shin guards at the captain. "We're just trying to show our Seeker that we appreciate her job well done."
"Oh, don't you even," the blonde countered, shooting the female Beater and all the rest of her teammates a sharp glare. "I don't want any congratulations, okay? Because they all go to you guys, I'm serious. I am so totally blown away with you all right now. I mean, I know it wasn't exactly a hard match, but you were all incredible! I'm so proud of you guys!"
Modest protests met her praise as they all sat down to strip off their pads and robes.
"I'm serious though," Darcy added as she loosened the laces of her shoes. "You guys played like World Cup champs. I have absolutely no comments or suggestions about your playing style today—which, as you know, is like a solar eclipse, happening about one every fifty years."
The team chuckled at their captain's own admission to her desire for perfection. "So do something else that only happens once a lifetime and give us some compliments then," Keely hinted through the material of her uniform sweater as she slipped it over her head, revealing a pale gray t-shirt beneath.
"What, you think you need an ego trip, Beater Girl?" the blonde laughed. "Nuh-uh, you don't get anything, and do you know why you don't get anything? This is why." She stripped off her uniform sweater to reveal an immense black bruise that spanned the entirety of her left shoulder as well as a portion of her back, though the full damage was partially hidden by the blue tank top she wore. "Yeah, you were trying to be a hotshot and show off for the good-looking Ravenclaw Beater with the Bludger Backbeat—which, I will give you credit for, is a very difficult move and you pulled it off nicely. But you didn't do a very good job of aiming the Bludger after you hit it."
Keely snorted, obviously amused. "Sorry about that, DC," she said, and reached out to give the injury a swift poke. "Does it hurt?"
"Ouch!" Darcy slapped her friend's hand away and rubbed gingerly at her bruise. "Yes it hurts, you dumbass! Christ…" She attempted to flex her shoulder, and gave a slight hiss of pain, the true depth of the injury at last making itself known as her muscles began to grow stiff.
Oliver, seated closest to her, brushed soft fingertips across her injured fleshed as he demanded, "Are you okay? Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey?"
Gazing into his guileless chocolate eyes, she had the sudden crazy urge to laugh at the expression of horrified concern on his young face. Instead she replied, "Nah, I'm fine, hun. Trust me, this is just a scratch in comparison to some of the hits I've taken. Besides, I've got something I have to say to you, Mr. Wood, and that is… that I was totally impressed by your performance today. In fact, my wonderful Wonder Boy, you did such a great job for your first match that I've decided we can skip this Monday's and Wednesday's practices. And your teammates can thank your skill for that."
His features melted from apprehension to delight during the course of her words, and now he blushed as Brian, Keely, and the rest thanked him with hearty slaps to his back.
Darcy showed her own appreciation by grinning broadly at him before slowly rising to her feet, careful not to over-flex her tender shoulder. Gathering her shed uniform and pads, she announced, "Okay, you prats, everybody hit the showers. We've got a couple hours left till dinner and I officially give you my permission to screw off."
She left them to their own devices and retreated to her dressing room, where she performed a quick cleansing charm on her uniform. Then she sat down in her plush red chair, clad only in her blue top and panties, closed her eyes, and let her mind fall quiet for the moment, existing only in the sensations of her body as it came down off a natural high. The rush of blood through her veins, each slow inhale and exhale of oxygen, glowing warmth throbbing in her muscles; she drank it all in greedily. When at last glittering azure eyes flickered open, their mistress was at peace, and far happier than she'd been in some weeks' time.
With towel and toiletries rolled beneath one arm, she emerged to find an empty locker room and only the light trickling sound of running water from the showers. She entered the white tiled room and it's lone occupant, Oliver, stared curiously back at her over the top of his privacy barrier before blushing and ducking down. Through the mostly-opaque barrier walls, she could see by his shadow he was attempting to cover himself.
The Seeker laughed. "Don't worry, Oliver," she said, "no one can see anything more than your outline through those things." She stepped up to one of the showers herself and activated the barrier, screening her own body up to the shoulders. "See?"
Blushing more fiercely at his naiveté, he answered, "Oh. Yeah," and returned uneasily to bathing himself.
For her part, she more or less ignored the Keeper's presence as she peeled off the last of her clothing, tossing the garments over the barrier with one sleek, honey-fleshed arm. She then flicked on the faucet and stepped beneath the steamy hot water, wincing slightly as it pelted her injured shoulder. From the corner of her eye, she could see Oliver watching with interest.
Without warning, the devil in Darcy made itself known, and a sinfully delicious idea popped into her wicked little mind. She was allowed to have fun, after all, and she wouldn't be hurting anyone… The opportunity was simply to golden for her to resist.
Mischief quirked up the corners of her lips as elaborately, she plunged herself beneath the shower's warm flow, keeping in mind that Oliver could see the outline of her water-slicked body. Slowly, sensually, she explored her hands over the delectable contours of her own form—smoothing up lean calves and toned thighs, gliding over the flat muscled wall of her stomach, curving around the gentle swell of her breasts, and at last sleeking back her gold hair that now hung down the length of her back.
"Mmm…" the purr crept deeply up from her throat, "this is exquisite…"
From beside her, a thick gulp could be heard, followed by his slightly trembling voice, "Y-yeah, it's, uh, great t-to be, ah, clean."
Her reply was another dangerously erotic moan as she massaged a fragrant lavender-scented shampoo through the length of her locks. Instantly the perfume filled the air, and was joined a few short moments later by the mouth-watering aroma of freshly-baked cookies, emanating from the body wash she lathered across her silken flesh. Oliver couldn't suppress a desirous whimper as the girl again rubbed over her curvaceous physique.
Darcy stifled a playful giggle, and dared sneak a look over at her male counterpart to witness the effects of her work. A noticeable… growth had appeared on his outlined torso, though the Keeper was obviously trying his best to conceal it.
To compound her performance, she threw in another low growl, and grinned when she discovered her own pulse was racing at the result of her actions. Hmm… came an intrigued voice through her mind, it seems that turning Oliver on in fact yields results for me as well… She couldn't help a chuckle as she sluiced the sugary-sweet soap off her frame.
She spent five more seductive minutes caressing and ministering to her slick flesh, which glimmered as though oiled in the low light of the shower room, ever aware of the increasing pants and mewls of the fourth-year. White-knuckled he clutched at the edge of his privacy barrier, not even bothering to mask his wide-eyed stare.
The final drop of water trickled down her muscled back as she shut off the shower and proceeded to dry herself with graceful, long swipes of her white terrycloth towel, which she then wrapped around her body. At last she deactivated the barrier and, stooping to quickly gather her shed clothing and shampoo bottles, she purred, "See you later, Mr. Wood," and departed the shower room with a triumphant smile on her face.
"You know you're evil, right?"
Darcy jumped, startled at the voice that sounded directly beside her ear as she stepped into the locker room once more. She spun and glared fiercely at Brian, who had a strange look occupying his features. "Don't do that!" she snapped.
"He's gonna have blue balls for like, a month," the Beater continued as though she'd never spoken. "Probably longer, since it was you, DC."
"Oh, stop!" she said, annoyed.
Innocently, he raised his hands to his chest. "Hey, I'm just telling it like it is. You've got to be some kind of evil genius mastermind, Darcy, pulling what you just did. Christ, it was hard enough for me to keep cool; I had to keep imagining Marcus Flint in a thong. That kid stood no chance against your sex-tacular bod and you knew it. Pure evil." Brian grinned.
Allowing a smirk of her own, she acceded, "That was pretty naughty, wasn't it?"
He nodded as the blonde giggled impishly, and with a smirk still fixed to his face, he asked her suddenly, "Why do you lead him on like that?"
"Beg pardon?" she asked, continuing to grin herself, though the mirth was quickly leaking from her features.
"You heard me, Darcy." An instant, startling sobriety hardened his words. "Why do you do things like that? You're completely leading him on."
Taken totally off-guard by her friend's shift in demeanor, she attempted a flustered response. "I-I don't… lead him on, Brian, I mean… I have no idea what-what you're talking about!" She laughed weakly. "I mean, i-is this supposed to be some sort of joke?"
Studying the barely-clothed Quidditch captain, Brian gave a sigh, much in the fashion of a parent whose unruly teenage child simply refused to listen. Before she could react, he took her by the elbow, and pulled her into the sanctity of her own dressing room, securely locking the door behind them and muttering a quick silencing spell to encompass the tiny room. Then he rounded on Darcy like a predator. "Okay, this has gone on far too long. It's time for you to answer some questions for me, Darcy, and no more bullshit. Now would you like to tell me you insist on leading Oliver Wood on, even though you've got a boyfriend?"
She said nothing, only stared back at him, her sapphire eyes wide.
"Okay. Fine. You don't want to answer that. Okay. How about this: why do you keep going back to Kotter over and over again? And don't tell me it's because he treats you well, or because you love him, because we both know that's a lie."
"Why are you doing this?" she blurted out, tears pooling on her lower lashes.
"Because it needs to be done," he replied coolly. "Are you going to answer my questions or not?" Though her chin quivered as she fought her tears, Darcy set her jaw and glared defiantly at him in silence. Brian sighed again, as if pained. "So you want to do it the hard way. Fine, if this is the way it's got to be. I'll tell you why you do the things you do, Darcy. It's because you need to be in control."
She barked a laugh. "You are so far from the truth," she sneered.
"Oh am I?" he replied, his gaze boring into the girl until she looked away. "Because I think I'm right on. Would you like to know why?"
"Please, astound me with your profound psychological analysis of my life." Her voice was laced with bitter cruelty, a tone she'd never before used with her best friend, and one which surprised the girl greatly.
Brian was quiet for a moment, apparently as stunned as Darcy herself. Then in a low, calm voice, he said, "I've known you for seven years, Darce. Seven. Since that first day at King's Cross, when out of all those hundreds of other kids, you were the only other one who didn't talk with a funny accent. You've been my best friend for seven years, and I've come to know a few things about you. I understand that a lot of things in your life have been out of your control. Your intelligence, which ended up forcing you into the position of Prefect, and then Head Girl. Your beauty, which gets you much more attention than I know you're comfortable with. Your skills on the Quidditch field, which have gained you both popularity and pressure, as now they all look to you to win for them. And, of course, your family, who has more money than most of us could dream to see in a lifetime. None of those things are your fault, DC, and I know you've tried to hide them as best as you can, but some things just can't be concealed. Or controlled. So you had to find something you could control, and you found Kotter."
"But he controls me!" she cried, twin rivers of tears at last coursing down her cheeks.
"Yes, it does seem that way, doesn't it? To the world, he controls you, but in truth, you're the one controlling the relationship. You get to choose what everyone else gets told about what happens, what everyone else believes. For five years, you've had the whole school, not to mention your respective families, convinced that you and Kotter are the happiest, most perfect couple on the face of the earth. Look how you've fooled them all! How you've controlled what they know! But now things are starting to fall apart, aren't they? People are starting to see the truth, and your control is slowly slipping, especially with Oliver."
Each new barrage of his words hit her like a tidal wave, and Darcy sank slowly to the floor, folding in own herself like a scared child. "Oliver…" she murmured softly.
"Yeah, Oliver. He's screwed things up pretty royally for you, hasn't he? Made you see what you were missing by giving in to Kotter all the time."
A sob choked its way out of her throat. "Please no more…" she pleaded.
Brian knelt down, and took her hands within his own. "I've got to finish this Darcy, for both our sakes. Because I've known you too long to let this keep going on. I mean, I love you, babes, and it kills me to see you like this! I remember back before Kotter, and how happy and easy-going you used to be, but he's sucked all that out of you over the course of just a few years! I can only imagine what'll happen if this goes on much longer!" He'd become frustrated, and his grip on her fingers was tightening painfully. "Christ, Darcy, you're so beautiful! Of all the guys in the world you could have, why did you have to pick the one who would treat you worst? Who would never be able to see how… how… amazing you really are? Who would only ever look at you as a fancy possession, something to be displayed and polished, but never loved?"
Her body shook as she cried, harder than she had in a very long time, and through her tear-blurred vision, she could see his face, nearly agonized with his concern for her. Despite hitching sobs, she managed to whisper, "I-I d-don't know w-w-what to do…"
"Oh babes. I can't tell you that. The only thing I can tell you is that I've seen the way you look at him—at Oliver. I know what you're feeling… and I know he feels it, too. And I also know how terrifying it must seem for you right now, stuck between what your heart wants and what your mind wants. Because, although you may control Oliver right now, by feeding his affections for you and stringing him along, in the long run, you know he's always going to be governed by his own free will, whether you're in the picture or not."
She gave a low, long keening wail, burying her face in her hands as her tears came harder yet. Slowly Brian stood.
"Right now it's all on you, Darcy, and what you're prepared to do. The choices are all yours. If you want Oliver, you've got him. If you want Kotter, you've got him, though I know that's not what you want. I always thought it would take something big, and likely terrible, on Kotter's behalf before you finally chose to break from him. It hasn't happened yet, but I get the sense that's it's going to be soon, and it's going to cause you all more heartache than that bastard's worth. But you've got to do what you've got to do. Just remember that I've got your back, always, no matter what." He leaned low and kissed the top of her gold-curled head. "I've got to go, Darcy. I'll see you."
And then he left her on the floor of her dressing room, clad only in her towel, crumpled and crying like a broken child's toy.
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Yay for long chapters! I'm really proud of this, especially Brian and Darcy's conversation, and I hope you all enjoyed it as well. And I have a challenge for you, my dearest readers and reviewers: I'd love to be able to hit 100+ reviews before Chapter Twenty, so tell your friends, encourage new readers and reviewers! I also promise to R/R the story(stories) of anyone who asks me to do so. Of course I'm NOT going to stop writing this story until I get my hundred—yeah, right, that's funny. Me, stop writing this story? Hahahaha! But I know a lot of people do that though, and I think it's foolish, as you're only hurting your readers. Again, thanks a million times to everyone who is reading, reviewing, and hopefully enjoying this story.
My love and respect to you all! *~Adele~*