A/N: Ok, I've decided that I'm going to go through this whole fanfiction to add and cut as I see fit because this is my baby and I'm not happy with it. There needs to be much more description for one thing!
It's been knocked down to PG-13 because in all honesty, it doesn't need to be R...there's little in it that makes it an R really, few bits of violence, some innuendos and a little swearing here and there.
Just a note – I've cut Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco and Ginny from this because at the time, I didn't want to write for 'proper' characters...just felt weird. It's strange but it works for me, at least I haven't got tons of characters to write for!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize – just my OC's. Although sometimes I wish I did own Oliver Wood...tee hee.
Chapter One - Start of the End.
"It's our last year," Paris Knightley sighed to herself. She rested her chin on her knees and looked into the gold pink sunset. The sun could just be seen beyond the mountains, giving them a hazy golden glow.
Paris looked left toward the Forbidden Forest, its mass of trees looking quite threatening. Some birds flew into the sky, making distant sounding caws. Paris shivered under her thick black school robe even though it was a warm evening. To her right, the lake reflected the sun, giving the surface a pinky sheen. Its waters were still and calm, the complete opposite to the Forest.
"Percy! Don't scratch the bottom of my trunk!" Marino Morrissey screeched at Percy Weasley, who was looking very frustrated and having a very hard time lugging two rather large trunks up the stone steps that Paris was sat at the top of.
"I'm trying not to," Percy said through gritted teeth as he heaved Marino's trunk to the very top of the steps. It landed with a dull thud next to Paris, making her robes flutter.
"Honestly, I should've just done it myself!" Marino flustered and retrieving her wand from her own robes. "Locomotor trunk!" She commanded and the trunk instantly hovered off the floor and obediently followed Marino into the castle.
"Did she? Did you just see?" Percy stuttered, staring after Marino who had disappeared into a crowd of students, her blonde curls bobbing under her pointed black hat.
"Sit down," Paris said softly and Percy collapsed next to her, panting with exhaustion and anger. His long legs dangled down at least five steps.
Paris watched the student's mill around, all chatting excitably about their summers and laughing at new haircuts or styles. It would be the last time Paris would ever start a new year at Hogwarts and she wanted to make the most of it.
"Head Boy? Oh Head Boy? Where art thou?" a very familiar voice called in a sing-song voice. Percy groaned and pressed his palms into his eyes as he rolled over onto his stomach.
"Well looky looky, it's the Head Boy and Girl. I feel honored Fred," George Weasley said to his twin. They were identical down to the last freckle and were the bane of their older brother Percy's life.
"Such an honor to be in your presence, your graces," Fred Weasley said, bowing deeply and smacking his forehead on the stone. "Ouch!"
"Serves you right," Paris said but she was grinning in the same fashion as the twins. Fred rubbed his forehead and sat down also. George was looking around, his hand shielding his eyes from the failing sunlight.
"Shouldn't you be yelling at midgets?" Fred asked Percy, leaning back to look at him casually.
"Don't call them midgets," Paris said mildly, watching what George was doing.
"Why? Going to put me in detention? Make me do lines? Cane me? Oh please let it be the latter," Fred said in a slimy voice. Paris rolled her eyes and without a backward glance, cursed Fred with a tickling charm.
Whilst Fred was writhing on the steps, laughing hysterically and making quite a scene, Paris got up and left, jogging down the stone steps of the castle easily. She had spotted who she was waiting for.
"Oliver," Paris said softly as she approached him. Oliver Wood looked up at her, grinning slightly. His face was unusually tan and he seemed taller.
"Well, if it isn't the Head Girl. Better watch my step," He teased. Paris grinned and threw her arms around him.
"Good to see you," Paris said when they parted. "How was your summer?"
"Good thanks, I went to Greece," Oliver said as they began walking back toward the castle.
"I can see that," Paris said, looking at him again. She couldn't believe slightly browner skin could make someone look so...good.
"How about you?" Oliver asked.
"Working mainly. Spent most of my spare time playing Quidditch with Fred and George," Paris said, knowing she'd just scored some Brownie points.
"What I like to hear, my team practicing," Oliver said proudly.
"Alright there, Wood?" George cat-called. Fred was still hysterical.
"George," Oliver said with a nod. "What's up with Fred?" He said in an undertone to Paris.
"I cursed him. Fin ," Paris said pointing her wand and stopping the invisible hands tickling Fred's ribs.
"You...bloody...bitch..." Fred panted, clutching his sides.
"You didn't just swear did you, Master Weasley?" Paris said, pointing her wand at him again. "Do I have to leave the spell on a little longer?"
"No! No! Sorry! No more!" Fred said frantically, scrabbling away. Paris smiled at Oliver before heading into the castle herself, to help the first years settle in.
"And I thought Old Perce would be the nasty one," Fred said, standing up, clutching his sides. "She's a maniac."
"Yeah, she certainly has, er, changed," Oliver replied, staring after Paris who was surrounded by students wanting to know passwords or ways to common rooms. He ruffled the back of his short brown hair, watching Paris answer questions and laugh with the new students.
"There's Angelina! My life, my soul, my love!" George called to a tall black girl who did not look impressed.
"Please," Angelina Johnson said scathingly before turning to Oliver with a changed expression. "Hi Oliver."
"Hi Angelina," Oliver replied, trying not to snicker at the crestfallen George.
"Katie! Alicia! My other loves!" George then called at the two girls following behind Angelina, clutching his heart and beating his eyelashes wistfully.
"Nice try," Katie Bell said, walking past him. "Hi Oliver."
"Hello," Oliver replied, laughing slightly and folding his arms.
"Paris has taught me that tickling charm," Alicia Spinnet warned George, poking him in the chest with her wand. "Alright, Wood?"
"Hello Alicia," Oliver said, putting a hand over his mouth so he could laugh openly.
"Another great year for the ladies, I suppose," George said sarcastically as the three girls bee-lined for Paris.
"Well not for you perhaps. I'm the cute twin," Fred said, now fully recovered.
George rolled his eyes and all four boys entered the castle with a great sense of pride. They all walked in like they owned the place, heads held high and proud.
"Quick Perce! A second year using magic in the corridors!" Fred said, pointing to a group of boys who were levitating someone's underwear. Percy put on his best strict face and marched over. They could already hear him bellowing and handing out detentions.
"Come on, shall we go to the Feast?" George asked Paris when they reached the girls who were chatting in a corner, away from all the hustle and bustle.
"Yeah, we were then going to -," Paris was cut off by a cold, sneering voice.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the new Head Girl. Who are these, your body guards?" Marcus Flint leered, striding toward the group. Andy Warrington and Adam Montague followed in his wake.
Paris turned to look at Marcus, disgust wrinkling her pretty face.
"If it isn't Marcus Flint and his traveling circus. Want a banana, boys?" Fred said sarcastically with a smile. Warrington and Montague stiffened, tightening their fists.
"Why don't you sod off, Marcus?" Angelina said, her black eyes flashing menacingly. A cold smile curled on Marcus' lips.
"Why don't you make me?" He said quietly to Angelina. "Or will Paris put me in detention if I don't?" He smiled sarcastically at Paris.
"The last thing I'd want is to supervise you in a room for three hours," Paris spat, folding her arms defensively across her chest.
"Never know, you may just enjoy it," Marcus replied, raising his eyebrows and smiling horribly.
"That's it," Fred said, drawing his wand from his wands and pointing it at Marcus in one fluid movement.
"Don't!" Paris warned desperately, pushing his wand away immediately. She was surprised to see Oliver had done the same. "Oliver, don't. Please," Paris pleaded. She really didn't want to be in the middle of a duel on her first day as Head Girl.
"Come on Wood, let's see you duel. If your Quidditch is anything to go by, I doubt it'll be a problem," Marcus taunted, also pulling his wand. Now there were wands pointing everywhere, from everyone.
"Go into the Great Hall Marcus, now!" Paris ordered, motioning him away with her own wand. No-one moved.
"Now!" Paris shouted but he still didn't budge.
"I don't take orders from Mudbloods," Marcus said in a dangerous whisper.
Everything then happened in a blur. Angelina, Katie and Alicia made noises of disgust, Fred lunged at Marcus but missed and ended up fighting with Montague, George helped his twin brother and Oliver punched Marcus square in the face. Curses and hexes were flying everywhere and soon, most of the corridor was involved.
"What is going on here?" a woman's voice commanded angrily. Paris closed her eyes, it was Professor McGonagall. Paris knew she wouldn't be pleased that the Head Girl was in the middle of a riot.
"Expelliarmis!" Professor McGonagall shouted, disarming the whole corridor. Around thirty wands clattered at her feet. "Miss Knightley! Explain yourself!"
Her mouth was set in a thin line and her eyes were narrowed straight at Paris. Her face was very white and she was practically shaking with anger.
"It was Flint!" Fred piped up, shoving Montague from him.
"He was causing trouble! And saying horrible things," Angelina added.
"Someone hit me with a curse!"
"I got punched in the stomach!"
"My leg is a chicken!"
The corridor was all talking at once and Professor McGonagall was getting angrier and angrier.
"ENOUGH! Those hurt or in need of medical assistance, hospital wing! Everyone but the Head Girl, go!" She demanded and everyone obeyed, picking up their wands silently.
"But Miss..." Fred tried but Professor McGonagall glared at him and he hurried away.
"What on earth went on here?" Professor McGonagall inquired when the corridor was empty.
"Slytherin's getting out of hand. You know how they rile the Gryffindor's up," Paris sighed feebly. She should've controlled the situation properly but she wasn't prepared to start telling tales on people.
"As Head Girl it is your duty to stop corridor duels, not start them. You are a seventh year who should be setting examples for younger students who will look up to you. I'm very disappointed Paris," Professor McGonagall said, shaking her head. Paris felt awful, something Professor McGonagall was very good at making people feel.
"Sorry Professor. It won't happen again," Paris said.
"Take your wand and on your way," Professor McGonagall said and Paris obeyed, feeling humiliated and a disappointment to her Head of House.
"Are you alright Paris?" Fred asked when Paris entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table. He sounded genuinely concerned.
"Why'd you lot have to do that?" Paris scolded, slumping down between Marino and Angelina.
"He called you a, a well you know," Fred said indignantly. "What do you expect us to do, shake his hand and say well done?" Paris rubbed her eye with her fist wearily.
"He's right Par," Marino said quietly, which was rather unusual. She very rarely agreed with anything the twins said.
"It's just an insult, it doesn't matter to me. What matters is you lot getting into trouble and me getting the blame!" Paris snapped. Everyone went quiet.
"Why didn't you tell me you were Muggle-born?" Oliver said softly. Paris looked across the table at him.
"Does it matter?" Paris said defensively.
"No," Oliver replied with a half shrug. "It's nothing to be ashamed about though." Paris stared at him, open mouthed at his comment.
"I'm not ashamed," She said quietly. "It's my business, not yours."
"But we're your friends," Angelina interjected.
Paris felt frustrated. Why was everyone making a big deal out of it? She didn't want to be teased or felt sorry for because of it.
"My parents are Muggles then, I'm a Mudblood," Paris said loudly.
"Don't say that," George said, looking around. "You're not a Mudblood, you're Muggle-born. Better still, you're a witch and it's all that matters."
"Right so let's forget it," Paris said and turned her attention to her roast beef.
- - -
That night, when Paris was in her dormitory and all her things had been packed away, she lay in her luxurious four poster bed and drew the hangings, hiding her from Marino and the other girls she shared with. She snuggled down in the velvety scarlet bedcovers and began to think.
There was one question on her mind. How had Marcus found out about her parents?
The only people that knew Paris was a Muggle-born were The Weasley family and they wouldn't've told anyone, especially Marcus. Fred and George were overly protective and Percy just wasn't the type to tell secrets.
"Actually," a small voice in Paris' head said. "The Diggory's know too."
The Diggory's were the other wizarding family that lived near Paris and the Weasley's. Their son, Cedric was the same age as Paris but he was a Hufflepuff. They were most surprised when Mrs. Weasley told them Paris had received her admissions letter. Surprised but happy for her.
"Cedric wouldn't've told Marcus," Paris said to herself. She was good friends with Cedric and knew he hated Marcus. Plus he wasn't the gossipy type; he wouldn't spread that sort of stuff about Hufflepuff Tower. Never.
Being a Muggle-born was fairly rare, less and less magical children were being born into Muggle families but it happened. Many people didn't like the fact Muggle-born's were allowed at Hogwarts, to be taught along side pure-bloods.
Paris rolled over and cleared her mind, something she was getting very good at. She began to think about Oliver instead. How he had pulled his wand on Marcus straight away when he had threatened her, how nice he looked when Paris saw him earlier, all tanned and stronger looking.
She and Oliver had never been particularly close, they had been on the same team for seven years but that was the extent of it. They chatted and Paris considered him a friend but not one she'd go out of her way for. When Paris saw Oliver earlier today, she felt something inside her shift. Her mutual respect and tolerance had turned into something much deeper and Paris liked it.
"And he was actually smiling, for once," She smiled to herself.
Pulling the duvet right up to her chin, Paris squeezed her eyes shut and with a dozy smile, hoped for a dream involving Oliver Wood, saving the day.