Fixing to Fly
Chapter Twenty-Four
Author's Note: Wow. Just realized that I write a whole lotta author's notes. Oh well. This chapter: It's the big one! And all I have to say is, drama drama drama! You need a box of Kleenex nearby as you read this, as I needed several as I wrote it (probably because I have a cold ;). And I just want to say another huge thanks to all the wonderful people reading this. I've got a good handful of repeat reviewers, and you all know who you are, who are just the most amazing, supportive, patient people ever, and I will forever be in your debt for the kindness you've paid me. That said, I give you the only gift I can: a new chapter.
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Hidden in the shadows of the Quidditch stadium, the predator waited, sharp eyes focused on the chocolate-eyed boy standing beneath the goal posts. Oliver was tending affectionately to his broom, clipping away stray twigs and smoothing a polish over the fine grain of the handle. He was completely unaware of his precarious situation, and the slight smirk that lit the face of his stalker as he gazed absently off at something in the distance.
This was the moment. The prey was distracted. Long, agile limbs propelled an athletically-muscled body out of the darkness, sprinting powerfully toward the oblivious Keeper. Oliver never saw it coming, until…
Darcy pounced upon the fourth-year like a playful feline, tackling him backward to the ground. She used the element of surprise to her advantage, managing to pin his arms down before he could react, and as she sat lightly straddling his chest, she grinned brilliantly at her subdued Keeper. "Pinned ya," she announced as Oliver regarded her with a sort of startled amusement.
"Only because you cheated," he shot back as he tested the yield of his blonde-haired captor, flexing beneath her grasp. Both knew it would take only a slight effort for him to free himself, despite the strength of Darcy's Quidditch-toned body, but he made no move to do so, apparently content with having the elegant seventh-year poised atop his torso.
Feigning offense, she protested, "I do not cheat, Mr. Wood. In fact, as your teammate and captain, I find the very notion that I would cheat an outrage, and demand you apologize this instant."
He grinned impishly. "What if I don't?"
"I don't believe you're in a position to deny my requests at the moment," she replied smartly, letting the silk curtain of gold hair fall around her face, "seeing as, at any given moment, I could simply do this." And instantly her fingers found his ribcage, running frantically up and down his sides as Oliver cried out in protest.
"Hey! N-no f-fair!" he managed to gasp between fits of laughter, his attempts to gain a hold on her wrists continually unsuccessful as she merely increased the rate of her tickling torture. Finally he gave up, and yelled out weakly, "S-sorry, I'm sorry!"
Just as swiftly as she'd pinned him, she was back on her feet and holding out a helpful hand to the fourth-year who lay grasping his aching abdomen. "It's getting rather late," she remarked conversationally as she pulled him up and straightened his rumpled Quidditch robes. "We'd best hit the showers, don't you think? I've got a twenty-inch paper due tomorrow for Charms that I haven't even started, so I'll probably be up half the night writing that. And I'm surprised you aren't dead on your feet yet, Ollie. You really went all-out tonight, for only your first practice back."
"I am dead on my feet," he countered as he plucked his abandoned broomstick from the ground. "I just hide it really well."
Darcy laughed, leading the way into the locker rooms as she enjoyed the company of her favorite fourth-year. Even now, over a week after he'd come out of his Bludger-induced coma, she still found herself amazed at how much she had missed him in his absence. At the doorway of the locker room, she gave him a playful shove then darted in before he could catch her, dodging away to hide behind Brian.
"If you think I'm going to protect you, DC, you're sadly mistaken," commented the Beater, though he was grinning as Oliver at last found his way into the room.
She emerged from around her friend, shaking her head sadly and clucking her tongue. "There's loyalty for you." Giving him a passing punch to the shoulder, she turned her attention to the Keeper, who was smirking in amusement at his two teammates. Darcy glared at him. "All right, prat, get out of here. I want to see you looking perky and alert first thing tomorrow morning, understand?"
Exaggerating a bow, he replied cordially, "As you wish, your Royal Quidditch Highness," and hurried off to the showers before she could retaliate.
The room's only other occupant, Kotter, watched this entire exchange with an almost-peculiar disinterest and, without a word, he gathered up his uniform and pads and disappeared out into the night. Brian watched him go with a single curiously raised eyebrow before trading a look with Darcy, the Seeker having seated herself to strip off her shin guards.
"Is it just me, or has he been acting a little creepy lately?" he queried, slicking a hand through his freshly-showered brown hair.
Glancing up from her task, she frowned and replied, "Mmm, I don't know. He has been kind of quiet, hasn't he?"
He nodded. "Have you talked to him lately?"
"No, not since…" A thought suddenly struck her and sent her stomach lurching for the floor. Anxiety settled into the back of her mind like a bad toothache.
Noting the changes in his friend, Brian quickly prodded, "Since what, Darce?"
"Since…" and she told him about her and Kotter's library chat of the previous Friday night, and all the thoughts on Oliver she'd foolishly spilled to him. She'd had many a misgiving afterward about that conversation, and a constant sense of unease she'd been unable to really put a finger down on, a transient wariness she couldn't quite flush from her system.
As she finished, Brian shook his head and fixed her with a concerned expression. "That was not a smart thing you did, DC. I know you know that now, but still… damn it. I don't like this at all. Something's not right here."
"Oh Bri, you're just paranoid," she countered in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone.
"Am I?" he replied sarcastically, a touch of annoyance entering his voice. "I mean, after all, we're just talking about Kotter here, the guy who's managed to verbally abuse you, control you, and stab you in the back on countless occasions. But hey! What the hell! Let's just give him the benefit of the doubt for the millionth time and then act totally surprised when he proves to be his usual asshole self."
The sharp cynicism of her friend sliced straight to Darcy's core, throbbing like an open wound. She stared up at him with hurt in her sapphire eyes.
As quickly as his fit of anger had come, it soon passed, and Brian's hardened scowl melted into an apologetic smile. "Oh honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I'm just tired of seeing you bow down to that bastard all the time, when you've got a perfectly good guy waiting just a few feet away." He nodded in the direction of the shower room, where the sound of running water indicated Oliver's presence. "It's just… frustrating, okay? Especially since I know how close you are to getting away from him." He let his hands fall to her shoulders, gently kneading the tense muscles there. "I'm sorry, Darcy. Forgive me?"
She glanced at him upside-down, a hopeful smile twitching at the corners of her lips. "You really think I'm close to getting away?"
"I do," he affirmed, then paused a moment to let her confidence rebuild before adding in a more serious tone, "But just be careful for a few days, okay? Paranoid or not, I'm still not keen on Kotter's behavior right now. That guy's like a cobra; you never know when he's going to strike." He leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead. "I gotta go."
Sighing, the Seeker replied, "Yeah. Me too. Got that Charms paper to write."
He gathered up his equipment, shooting her a last smile as he stepped out of the locker room. "Just remember what I said, huh? I'll see you tomorrow, DC."
"Night," she replied, and after a long moment spent staring thoughtfully at the ceiling tiles, she at last shuffled off into her dressing room, trying to shake the feeling of foreboding that had settled itself into the pit of her stomach.
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Darcy's vision blurred as she scribbled her name untidily across the top of her finished Charms essay. Around her, the Gryffindor locker room was filled with shadows, only a single flickering torch giving any illumination to the girl as she collected her scattered books and returned them to her backpack. A long, squinting glance at her watch revealed the time to be a few minutes after two, and she was glad she'd chosen to stay in the locker room to complete her essay. If she'd been in the library, Madam Pince would have kicked her out hours ago, and she would've had to attempt to concentrate over the clamor of the common room. Now her only true task left was sneaking back into the castle without being noticed, which she'd done enough times it no longer proved a challenge for the seventh-year.
Snuffing out the torch, she took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dark before sneaking out into the night, her pack slung low over one shoulder as her hands kept her robes closed against the chilly air. Keeping to the shadows, she managed to arrive undiscovered at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.
"Aureate scarlet," she whispered to the Fat Lady, who snorted and woke with a start, blinking owlishly at the midnight-oil-burning seventh-year.
"Whatever you say, dear," the portrait murmured back, and promptly commenced snoring as Darcy crept her way into the common room. The fire slowly dying in the hearth cast a soft red glow across the room, creating a world of shadow quite similar to her previous locale, the locker rooms. If it hadn't been for the slight sound of sniffling from a nearby couch, she would've passed obliviously up to her dorm, unaware of the lone Gryffindor left in the common room.
The noise elicited a startled little jump from the Seeker, and instantly she began scrolling through a repertoire of excuses for her late entry… but every last word died on her lips when her gaze met the sight awaiting her on the couch. Grasping for her wand, she directed it at the nearest torch and muttered, "Incindiare." Flames instantly danced to life across the room as every last torch was illuminated.
The figure on the couch blinked at her with irritation. "Wha' choo do tha' for?"
"Oliver?" she gasped, appalled at the haggard state of her friend. His skin was ashen save for the dark bruises lurking under his eyes, which were bloodshot and bleary as he goggled up at her. In one hand he held a bottle to which Darcy didn't even have to guess the contents as the strong smell of alcohol hung off the fourth-year like a haze. She gaped at him, caught between confusion and rage. "What are you doing?!?"
Lurching unsteadily to his feet, he poked an accusatory finger at her, spilling droplets of his drink across the floor in the process as he slurred, "No, the queshon is, what're you doin'?"
Caught off guard, she stuttered, "Well, I-I ah—"
But Oliver continued on as though she'd never spoken. "One minute, yer actin' like ya love me, an' you know somethin'? I liked it. I liked it cuz I like you. Somethin' special, that's wha' you are, Darcy. Pretty an' smart an' funny an' jus' what a guy like me could want. An' the best part? I actually believed you liked me back! Tha's funny, huh? But now I know the truth, an' I know what you really think. That Kotter, he may be a big stupid git, but at least he told me the truth." He paused to take another drink of his liquor, grimacing at the taste.
The uneasy feeling that had been lurking about Darcy's belly all night at last exploded into full view, and something like slow fire began to spread through her veins as horrible pieces of realization fell slowly into place. "What did Kotter tell you, Oliver?" she demanded.
Frowning at her, he snapped, "You know wha' he told me. You told him, an' he told me everything, every nasty little detail. He told me everything…" he trailed off, and a devastated look came over his young features as tears sprung to his chocolate eyes. He moaned, "Oh god! I can't believe… why would you do tha' to me, Darcy? Huh? I thought you liked me…" The fourth-year flung himself forward, forcing her to catch him as he began to sob in earnest.
As his moans and wails filled the air, she again took out her wand and quickly cast a silencing charm over the whole of the common room. Then she looked down at the boy in her arms and suddenly felt sick to her stomach; she was almost certain what had caused this disaster, what had pushed Oliver to this end… but she had to hear the words. To be sure. Again, in a softer voice, she whispered down to the distraught Keeper, "What was it Kotter told you?"
He lifted his head weakly off her shoulder, gaping at her for a moment as though she'd just asked him to describe the painful death of a family member. Slowly, through hitching sobs, he related, "He told me… that you think I'm a pest… that I only ever bother you with stupid questions about Quidditch… an' that you think I'm just a dumb jock… an-an-an' I have no depth… an' that I follow you around like a stupid lost puppy… an' that you're disgusted by my crush on you… that you said you'd never ever in a thousand years love me back…" and he broke into sobs once more, crumbling back into Darcy's arms.
The sickening feeling in her stomach worsened as her worst fears were confirmed, but it was nothing compared to the slow ache that had settled into her heart. She now knew exactly what Kotter had done: he'd taken every nice, sweet thing she'd said about Oliver that Friday night, and he'd twisted them all into a pack of terrible, destructive lies. And somehow, he'd convinced Oliver that it was all true…
"You-you don't understand," she tried to explain, but a lump had developed within her throat and refused to be swallowed down. "I never said—"
"Oh no. Oh no." He staggered suddenly away from her, a fearful expression coming over his features as he gazed desperately around the room. "I think I'm gonna be sick…"
Immediately she was in motion, dragging the drunken fourth-year into the nearby bathroom and to the toilet, and just in the nick of time. Oliver fell to the floor, hugging the porcelain bowl as the contents of his stomach made a swift, violent reappearance. The Quidditch captain winced against the bitter, acidic smell of vomit as it filled the small space, forcing herself to take slow, small breaths through her mouth. At last he was down to dry heaves, and collapsed exhaustedly to the cool tiles of the floor as she stepped in to flush the toilet.
"Why… why…?" he whimpered, fresh tears cutting a path down his pale cheeks.
A short, shuddery little gasp escaped Darcy as she kneeled down and gently took his head in her lap. She rocked him slowly, brushed her fingers through his wisps of soft hair and, leaning close to his ear, she whispered, "Listen to me, Oliver. You've got to listen to me. All those things Kotter said… they were lies, okay? Just lies." Her vision blurred as tears of her own suddenly caught on her lower lashes.
"No…" he moaned weakly, shaking his head.
Desperately she insisted, "Yes! Yes they were, Oliver. Because you know what? You know what I told him? I told him… that you were amazing. I told him that I have never met anyone so intelligent, and that people who think you're just a… a 'dumb jock'… they don't know the real you, because you're brilliant. And I love that you ask me questions, and listen to me, like what I have to say is important." She paused, swallowing away the emotions attempting to overcome her. "And I told him… I told him that I have never been more flattered to have the affections of a guy as I am with you, because… you could have any girl in this school, Oliver, you know? And you chose me… I don't know why… I don't deserve it. But you did, and you don't know how much it means—how much you mean to me. Oliver, I… I…"
He blinked slowly up at her, those gorgeous chocolate eyes wet with tears, and a hand crept up to touch her cheek. She could feel his pleading thoughts: Say it, Darcy. Just say it.
"I… I love you, Oliver…" she whispered, and in that instant, a weight lifted off her shoulders, a burden she'd been carrying for five long years fell heavily away. She inhaled deeply, as though she'd never breathed before, and said it again, more certain this time. "I love you, Oliver Wood. I love you."
A lopsided smile found his face, his eyelids drifting shut, and as he faded off into the world of sleep, he murmured, "I knew it…"
A single tear drop fell upon his face, but this time it belonged to the gold-haired Gryffindor gently cradling the boy as he slumbered. And there she remained all through the long night, as her Keeper slept off the terrible nightmare her own ignorance had caused. When the first rays of sunshine slipped through into the cool tiled room, Darcy resolved to repay Kotter for all that he had done.
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All right, there she is. You must write me a review and let me know what you think, as this is one of the events I've building up to for some time now. Well, I suppose you don't have to write me a review… but I will personally perform a traditional Irish dance for anyone who does! Plus, believe it or not, reviews keep me motivated, as they feed my muses. And a well-fed muse is a productive muse! Also, I would really love to hit 200 reviews within the next two chapters or so. Wow, I never thought I'd be saying that: me with 200 reviews! *Adele goes momentarily light-headed* Again. Wow. And of course I never would've got there without all you awesome reviewers! Absolutely spiffing, you all are!
Lots o' love and virtual hugs to you all ~ Adele