Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I took the idea of flying Wizard
trains from a fic that was Hermione/Fred. I forget the name. I do own
Olivia, Leo, Nigel, and Nancy though.
A/N: Well, this chapter we meet the people from whom Oliver sprang. Does that scare you or what? I had fun writing them. Tell me if they need some tweaking, ok? Thanks.
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Five
The next morning, Oliver rolled over in his bed, his face on something that crinkled. A soft hooting sound woke him up.
Under his face was a letter, addressed to him, from Hermione. He picked up a pocket knife off of his nightstand, and opened the letter.
Dear Oliver, it read.
So sorry that I had to leave. Had an urgent owl from Harry, and couldn't stay any longer. I imagine that you are scratching your head going, "What? Why'd Harry owl her here?" Anyway. Please give my apologies to Olivia and Leo, and tell them I'm very sorry to have not been able to have lunch with you and them, as planned. Also, I've a raging hangover. Anyway, Oliver, dear, I'll miss you, and please write back. Hope to see you soon.
Yours,
Hermione
Oliver blinked, looked at Mynos, who was perched on his bedstead, put the letter on his nightstand, and went back to sleep.
Two hours later he woke again to Mynos pecking his forehead.
"Hoot, hoot," said Mynos, flicking his wing towards the mini fridge.
"Oh, are you hungry?" asked Oliver grumpily.
"Hoot!" hooted Mynos, jiggling.
Oliver climbed out of bed, and trudged over to the fridge. Opening it, he pulled out a box marked 'Owl treats' and carried it over to Mynos. He handed the small barn owl a few treats as he settled under the covers again.
Unfortunately, a knocking noise came from his door a few minutes later.
"Bugger off!" yelled Oliver, towards the general area of his door.
"Oliver Wood!" came the voice outside it. "How dare you talk to me, your mother, like that!"
Upon hearing his mother's voice, Oliver jumped out of bed, pulled some pants on, and hopped over to his door. "Mum! I'm so sorry," he told his mother, hugging her and trying to do up his zipper. "I thought you'd be Gerald or Eddie, or someone. Please, forgive me."
Nancy Wood smiled at her son. "Of course, dear." She kissed his cheeks. "We heard all of your game on the WWN yesterday. Now," she said, looking into his room, "where is that lovely young woman you sister said you came with?"
Oliver's eyes popped open. "You mean Hermione? Oh, she had to go. Urgent owl, you know." He looked shrewdly at his mother. "Why are you looking in my-Oh." He blushed hard. "She-We-Oh, God." He looked heavenward. "Why me?" Looking back at his mother, he pulled her into his room. Sitting her down on his bed, he looked into her eyes. "Look, Mum, Hermione and I are just friends! She was in room 217 and, look, I'm in 235! Besides, she isn't really dating right now, since everyone who askes her out just wants 'Hermione Granger, the Girl Who Saved The World', not just 'Hermione Granger'."
He looked at his mother, who had plastered a lok of innocence on her face.
"I'm not dating her, Mum," he said, going to his dresser and pulling out a shirt. "And that's final."
"Good," said a new voice, coming from the door region. Oliver looked over to see his dad, Nigel Wood, standing there. "Because you don't have to if you don't want to, right Nancy?"
Nancy nodded sullenly. "Fine," she said, looking out the window. "I don't see why you can't date a nice girl for once, though." She looked sharpley into her son's eyes, examining them. "You aren't gay, are you?"
Oliver's mouth dropped open. His cheeks turned as red as the Gryffindor banner. "God, mother! No, I'm not gay!" he said, looking imploringly at his father, who sighed.
"Nancy, what did we talk about?" quried Nigel, putting his hand on his wife's shoulder.
"Don't ask horridly personal questions," said Nancy, sounding like she had said this a million times.
"Good job," said Nigel, handing his wife a gummi bear.
Oliver grinned. His parents were so funny. "So, Mum," he said casually, knowing Olivia had told them about Hermione and not about the baby, "did Olivia tell you that she's pregnant?" He enjoyed his mother's expression, knowing that Olivia had most likely spoken to her that morning and not mentioned anything.
"No, she did not," said Nancy, looking daggers at the section of wall that was in the path of her to Olivia. "She did not. And I spoke to her only this morning, too."
"Well," said Oliver cheerfully, "isn't that lovely. You and dad should probably go talk with her and Leo, eh?"
"Yes, I do believe we will," said Nancy, picking up her purse and heading for the door. "Come, Nigel."
Nigel Wood followed his wife out the door looking amusedly back at Oliver, who was waving cheerfully at the shrinking backs of his parents.
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A half hour later, Oliver was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, and a Gryffindor sweater. He left his hotel room, and went to the lift. Pushing the down button, he leaned against the lift doorway, day-dreaming.
Ding! The door opened, and a voice intruded on Oliver's revelry. "Going down?" asked a bemused June Weatherby, looking at Oliver's spaced-out expression.
"Yeah," he said, smoothing his sleeves. "Get some breakfast, you know. Get ready for the trek to America." The team was heading to the United States for their next game. Unfortunately, the Chaser that Katie Bell substituted for had broken her leg eight weeks earlier. So she was moved to third- string point Chaser.
"I'm thinking of getting an omelette," said June, before looking around, frowning. "Where's Hermione?"
Oliver batted an invisible something away with his hand. "She left last night. Got an owl from Harry, they needed her back in London."
"Ah," said June, leaning on the wall of the lift.
Ding! The doors opened onto the lobby. They went into the dining room and sat with the rest of the team.
"So, what's up?" asked Eddie, across the table from Oliver. "Heard you yelling at your mum this morning." He elbowed his brother. "What'd Mum do if we did that, eh?" They laughed.
Oliver glared at them, angry. "Don't talk about my Mum like that, you tweasels," he said sharpley.
They blinked at him. "Tweasels?" they said, in unison after a moment or two.
Oliver shrugged, rage dissolving. "Eh, it's all I could think of at the time."
They grinned. "Eh, good enough." And then they scootched their chairs backward to tease someone at the table behind them.
Oliver looked at Gerald, who shrugged. "Don't ask me. I'm not the one who played on their House team with them."
"That'd be me," said Simon. He wrinkled his nose. "I had the mispleasure to be on the team with them in my fifth, sixth, and seventh years." He was immediately cooed and pitied over, because the Alister twins were horrid in their school years.
They ate the rest of their breakfast discusing the game coming up.
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Dear Hermione,
Hope you're well. I'm currently on a Wizard train (they fly, unlike the Hogwarts trains) to Washington D.C. Apparently the Quidditch pitch is around there somewhere. I know I'm looking forward to seeing the famous Capitol Walkway (American version of Diagon Alley). They've got the best Quidditch shop ever there. It's called Goalposts and Brooms. It's the best store ever, and, hint hint, you could buy my Christmas present there.
Mum stopped by my room the morning I got your letter. My mum's a bit of work, and you'll need at least a shot of something before I introduce you. By the by, I'm inclosing three tickets to the game here. If you, Harry, and Ron want to come, that'd be brilliant. Anyway, it's midnight our time, but it's six o'clock their time, and we're getting ready to land. I'll write soon. Also, this is my new owl, Xaiver, isn't he gorgeous?
Cheers,
Oliver
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Oliver and the team stepped into the Millard Hotel, the only Wizard hotel in Washington D.C. Actually, it was just outside of Crystal City, a small business town that was next to the Pentagon.
Oliver glanced at his teammates. They all walked up to the registration desk together.
"Hello, welcome to the Millard Hotel, how may I help you?" said a blonde witch at the counter.
Oliver smiled. He was so tired. "Hi. We're the English Quidditch team, we'd like to go to the rooms we reserved."
"Your names?" asked the uber-polite receptionist.
Oliver made a face at his friends. "Oliver Wood, Simon Hartfield, Eddie and Ian Alister, June Weatherby, and Katie Bell. Katie, June, Simon, and I all have our own rooms. Eddie and Ian would be under 'E.I. Alister,'" he said, as if reciting something.
The blonde smiled, and typed away. "Ah. Here are you reservations," she said. "Here are your keys, Mr. Wood, Mr. Hartfield, Ms. Bell, and Ms. Weatherby." She handed them keys.
"That's Mrs. Weatherby," said June. Everyone looked at her. "What? I'm married! You didn't know that? Right out of school, too."
Oliver shrugged, went over to the elevator, and pressed the up button. As he went into the small box that would lift him to his room, he sighed. It was going to be a long two weeks.
The elevator door opened, and he walked down the hallway to his room, number 273. He walked into his room after Alohamora'ing his door open.
Oliver dumped his bags on one bed, and stripped down to his boxers. Unzipping one duffel bag, he pulled a pair of scarlet pajama bottoms out of them. He put the pants on and went to the window, opening the curtains.
His breath caught in his throat. He had a clear view of the Washinton and Jefferson monuments. He had seen these buildings in books, since his mum had given him and his sister a Muggle education before Hogwarts, but he'd never seen them in person.
Oliver took in the sights before him, awestruck. This was a wonderfully historic city. Now that he'd seen it, he was glad he'd come.
Nevertheless, he was exausted. He went over to his bed, lifted the covers up, and crawled under them, yawning. Rolling over, he yawned one last time and went to sleep, aware that he had a busy--and long--day ahead of him.
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A/N: Ok, so the "Millard Hotel" is really a cop-off on this really swanky hotel in D.C. called the Willard. According to my brother, the all-seeing, all-knowing-- scoffs Yeah, right!--it's really famous. Also, A, if you are reading my story, I AM EMAILING DAD! BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU TO READ IT BECAUSE YOU DON'T APPRECIATE IT!!!!!! All right, insanity over. Anyway, to my friend Jacquline, I hope you like it!!!!!
Next chapter: the author shamelessly inserts herself into the fic. And has a speaking role opposite squee! Oliver Wood!
A/N: Well, this chapter we meet the people from whom Oliver sprang. Does that scare you or what? I had fun writing them. Tell me if they need some tweaking, ok? Thanks.
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Five
The next morning, Oliver rolled over in his bed, his face on something that crinkled. A soft hooting sound woke him up.
Under his face was a letter, addressed to him, from Hermione. He picked up a pocket knife off of his nightstand, and opened the letter.
Dear Oliver, it read.
So sorry that I had to leave. Had an urgent owl from Harry, and couldn't stay any longer. I imagine that you are scratching your head going, "What? Why'd Harry owl her here?" Anyway. Please give my apologies to Olivia and Leo, and tell them I'm very sorry to have not been able to have lunch with you and them, as planned. Also, I've a raging hangover. Anyway, Oliver, dear, I'll miss you, and please write back. Hope to see you soon.
Yours,
Hermione
Oliver blinked, looked at Mynos, who was perched on his bedstead, put the letter on his nightstand, and went back to sleep.
Two hours later he woke again to Mynos pecking his forehead.
"Hoot, hoot," said Mynos, flicking his wing towards the mini fridge.
"Oh, are you hungry?" asked Oliver grumpily.
"Hoot!" hooted Mynos, jiggling.
Oliver climbed out of bed, and trudged over to the fridge. Opening it, he pulled out a box marked 'Owl treats' and carried it over to Mynos. He handed the small barn owl a few treats as he settled under the covers again.
Unfortunately, a knocking noise came from his door a few minutes later.
"Bugger off!" yelled Oliver, towards the general area of his door.
"Oliver Wood!" came the voice outside it. "How dare you talk to me, your mother, like that!"
Upon hearing his mother's voice, Oliver jumped out of bed, pulled some pants on, and hopped over to his door. "Mum! I'm so sorry," he told his mother, hugging her and trying to do up his zipper. "I thought you'd be Gerald or Eddie, or someone. Please, forgive me."
Nancy Wood smiled at her son. "Of course, dear." She kissed his cheeks. "We heard all of your game on the WWN yesterday. Now," she said, looking into his room, "where is that lovely young woman you sister said you came with?"
Oliver's eyes popped open. "You mean Hermione? Oh, she had to go. Urgent owl, you know." He looked shrewdly at his mother. "Why are you looking in my-Oh." He blushed hard. "She-We-Oh, God." He looked heavenward. "Why me?" Looking back at his mother, he pulled her into his room. Sitting her down on his bed, he looked into her eyes. "Look, Mum, Hermione and I are just friends! She was in room 217 and, look, I'm in 235! Besides, she isn't really dating right now, since everyone who askes her out just wants 'Hermione Granger, the Girl Who Saved The World', not just 'Hermione Granger'."
He looked at his mother, who had plastered a lok of innocence on her face.
"I'm not dating her, Mum," he said, going to his dresser and pulling out a shirt. "And that's final."
"Good," said a new voice, coming from the door region. Oliver looked over to see his dad, Nigel Wood, standing there. "Because you don't have to if you don't want to, right Nancy?"
Nancy nodded sullenly. "Fine," she said, looking out the window. "I don't see why you can't date a nice girl for once, though." She looked sharpley into her son's eyes, examining them. "You aren't gay, are you?"
Oliver's mouth dropped open. His cheeks turned as red as the Gryffindor banner. "God, mother! No, I'm not gay!" he said, looking imploringly at his father, who sighed.
"Nancy, what did we talk about?" quried Nigel, putting his hand on his wife's shoulder.
"Don't ask horridly personal questions," said Nancy, sounding like she had said this a million times.
"Good job," said Nigel, handing his wife a gummi bear.
Oliver grinned. His parents were so funny. "So, Mum," he said casually, knowing Olivia had told them about Hermione and not about the baby, "did Olivia tell you that she's pregnant?" He enjoyed his mother's expression, knowing that Olivia had most likely spoken to her that morning and not mentioned anything.
"No, she did not," said Nancy, looking daggers at the section of wall that was in the path of her to Olivia. "She did not. And I spoke to her only this morning, too."
"Well," said Oliver cheerfully, "isn't that lovely. You and dad should probably go talk with her and Leo, eh?"
"Yes, I do believe we will," said Nancy, picking up her purse and heading for the door. "Come, Nigel."
Nigel Wood followed his wife out the door looking amusedly back at Oliver, who was waving cheerfully at the shrinking backs of his parents.
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A half hour later, Oliver was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, and a Gryffindor sweater. He left his hotel room, and went to the lift. Pushing the down button, he leaned against the lift doorway, day-dreaming.
Ding! The door opened, and a voice intruded on Oliver's revelry. "Going down?" asked a bemused June Weatherby, looking at Oliver's spaced-out expression.
"Yeah," he said, smoothing his sleeves. "Get some breakfast, you know. Get ready for the trek to America." The team was heading to the United States for their next game. Unfortunately, the Chaser that Katie Bell substituted for had broken her leg eight weeks earlier. So she was moved to third- string point Chaser.
"I'm thinking of getting an omelette," said June, before looking around, frowning. "Where's Hermione?"
Oliver batted an invisible something away with his hand. "She left last night. Got an owl from Harry, they needed her back in London."
"Ah," said June, leaning on the wall of the lift.
Ding! The doors opened onto the lobby. They went into the dining room and sat with the rest of the team.
"So, what's up?" asked Eddie, across the table from Oliver. "Heard you yelling at your mum this morning." He elbowed his brother. "What'd Mum do if we did that, eh?" They laughed.
Oliver glared at them, angry. "Don't talk about my Mum like that, you tweasels," he said sharpley.
They blinked at him. "Tweasels?" they said, in unison after a moment or two.
Oliver shrugged, rage dissolving. "Eh, it's all I could think of at the time."
They grinned. "Eh, good enough." And then they scootched their chairs backward to tease someone at the table behind them.
Oliver looked at Gerald, who shrugged. "Don't ask me. I'm not the one who played on their House team with them."
"That'd be me," said Simon. He wrinkled his nose. "I had the mispleasure to be on the team with them in my fifth, sixth, and seventh years." He was immediately cooed and pitied over, because the Alister twins were horrid in their school years.
They ate the rest of their breakfast discusing the game coming up.
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Dear Hermione,
Hope you're well. I'm currently on a Wizard train (they fly, unlike the Hogwarts trains) to Washington D.C. Apparently the Quidditch pitch is around there somewhere. I know I'm looking forward to seeing the famous Capitol Walkway (American version of Diagon Alley). They've got the best Quidditch shop ever there. It's called Goalposts and Brooms. It's the best store ever, and, hint hint, you could buy my Christmas present there.
Mum stopped by my room the morning I got your letter. My mum's a bit of work, and you'll need at least a shot of something before I introduce you. By the by, I'm inclosing three tickets to the game here. If you, Harry, and Ron want to come, that'd be brilliant. Anyway, it's midnight our time, but it's six o'clock their time, and we're getting ready to land. I'll write soon. Also, this is my new owl, Xaiver, isn't he gorgeous?
Cheers,
Oliver
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Oliver and the team stepped into the Millard Hotel, the only Wizard hotel in Washington D.C. Actually, it was just outside of Crystal City, a small business town that was next to the Pentagon.
Oliver glanced at his teammates. They all walked up to the registration desk together.
"Hello, welcome to the Millard Hotel, how may I help you?" said a blonde witch at the counter.
Oliver smiled. He was so tired. "Hi. We're the English Quidditch team, we'd like to go to the rooms we reserved."
"Your names?" asked the uber-polite receptionist.
Oliver made a face at his friends. "Oliver Wood, Simon Hartfield, Eddie and Ian Alister, June Weatherby, and Katie Bell. Katie, June, Simon, and I all have our own rooms. Eddie and Ian would be under 'E.I. Alister,'" he said, as if reciting something.
The blonde smiled, and typed away. "Ah. Here are you reservations," she said. "Here are your keys, Mr. Wood, Mr. Hartfield, Ms. Bell, and Ms. Weatherby." She handed them keys.
"That's Mrs. Weatherby," said June. Everyone looked at her. "What? I'm married! You didn't know that? Right out of school, too."
Oliver shrugged, went over to the elevator, and pressed the up button. As he went into the small box that would lift him to his room, he sighed. It was going to be a long two weeks.
The elevator door opened, and he walked down the hallway to his room, number 273. He walked into his room after Alohamora'ing his door open.
Oliver dumped his bags on one bed, and stripped down to his boxers. Unzipping one duffel bag, he pulled a pair of scarlet pajama bottoms out of them. He put the pants on and went to the window, opening the curtains.
His breath caught in his throat. He had a clear view of the Washinton and Jefferson monuments. He had seen these buildings in books, since his mum had given him and his sister a Muggle education before Hogwarts, but he'd never seen them in person.
Oliver took in the sights before him, awestruck. This was a wonderfully historic city. Now that he'd seen it, he was glad he'd come.
Nevertheless, he was exausted. He went over to his bed, lifted the covers up, and crawled under them, yawning. Rolling over, he yawned one last time and went to sleep, aware that he had a busy--and long--day ahead of him.
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A/N: Ok, so the "Millard Hotel" is really a cop-off on this really swanky hotel in D.C. called the Willard. According to my brother, the all-seeing, all-knowing-- scoffs Yeah, right!--it's really famous. Also, A, if you are reading my story, I AM EMAILING DAD! BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU TO READ IT BECAUSE YOU DON'T APPRECIATE IT!!!!!! All right, insanity over. Anyway, to my friend Jacquline, I hope you like it!!!!!
Next chapter: the author shamelessly inserts herself into the fic. And has a speaking role opposite squee! Oliver Wood!