DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.
REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now)
========= STORY TIME! =========
Chapter 2 – It isn't the food that's weird (Boys do cry)
+
Luella and Geoffrey had been doing most of the talking with the occasional nods from Oliver and the "Oh really" 's from Hermione.
Oliver amused himself by drinking big, rapid gulps of water, while Hermione picked at her food. By the time Hermione decided that she wasn't hungry, Oliver had drunk ten glasses of water.
Luella and Geoffrey were in their own world, talking, gazing at each other, and talking again.
As Oliver gulped down his eleventh glass, he felt like his bladder was going to explode. "Excuse me, I'm going to the—" but he trailed off since no one was listening anyway.
He practically ran to the men's room. Hermione, on the other hand was tired of all this . . .flirting, if you could call it that. She excused herself, not like anyone cared anyway, and went out back to the restaurant's small but beautiful Japanese garden.
On her way there, she bumped into Oliver on his way back to the table. "Where're you going?" he asked. "I'm going to the garden out back." She answered. "Can't stand it there."
Oliver nodded. "You've got that right. I've never seen my mother act like this. May I come with you?" he asked. Hermione nodded. "Why not?"
They walked beside each other—though keeping a fair distance—to the garden. When they reached their destination, neither one of them could contain a sigh of admiration.
It wasn't fancy or anything, but it *did* make them feel as though they were in Japan.
The cherry blossoms danced to the beat of the wind, spraying flowers around the air ever so slightly. Oliver even noticed that there were some fireflies fluttering around.
Hermione and Oliver sat on a bench, admiring the Japanese garden. "Have you ever been to Japan?" Oliver asked suddenly. Hermione shook her head, still tracing the faint glow of the fireflies' light with her eyes. It was a miracle she could see them in the day.
"No. You?"
"No. My dad and I were planning to go one day but . . ." Oliver's voice faltered. Hermione turned to look at him. "What happened?" she asked. "How come your plans didn't work out?"
"Well . . ." Oliver gulped. "My father, he—well he got into an accident and. . ."
Hermione gasped. "Accident? When?" Oliver stared at the sky and began his sorrowful tale.
"It was in my fifth year. It was raining, but not that hard. My father and I were to play quidditch that day in our quidditch pitch." Oliver took a deep breath. His voice quavered. "I—I remember it so well."
``~Flashback~``
Oliver rushed to the living room and found his father sitting on his favorite armchair, reading a book.
"Dad!" Oliver made his way up to his father and shook his shoulder. "Dad you promised!"
Oliver's father, Huston Wood, lowered his book and gave his son a tired look. "Not today, Ollie. It's raining."
But Oliver wouldn't give up. "We planned this a month ago! You're always busy. Today's your free day and you *told* me you'd play quidditch with me. You told me so. I remember!" Oliver held up his broom.
His father sighed. "Maybe another time, son. It looks dangerous." Still, Oliver would not give in. "It's just a little drizzle. It won't kill you dad."
Huston Wood scratched his chin. "Ollie," he started, giving the boy a look of affection but firmness as well. But Oliver stopped him. "You always said a true quidditch man doesn't let rain or snow stop him. You said that."
Huston chuckled, his big belly bouncing slightly. The man looked exactly like Santa Claus, except he didn't have a big white beard. But he did have the bushy white mustache. "Aye," he said, nodding. "You remember what I tell you. Why aren't you ever forgetful like your mother?" They laughed.
"Alright, son. Just because you're my boy." Oliver's eyes lit up as he ran to the closet and pulled out his father's broom.
"Off we go then, Ollie."
As they stepped onto the quidditch pitch, Oliver's father frowned. "Looks like rain." He said, staring at the clouds. Lightning streaked the sky and the thunder boomed twice as loud.
"It's just a little drizzle. It won't kill you." Oliver repeated, seeing the look on his father's face. Huston put on a cheery smile though his eyes betrayed him.
They zipped into the air, and Huston was starting to have fun. Just like his son, Huston Wood loved quidditch. Sometimes, Luella, his wife, would scold Oliver and him for obsessing about quidditch too much.
Oliver and Huston were having the best time since the last time they had the best time (LOL) that they ignored the rain.
In time, the rain got stronger and stronger, and the thunder got louder and louder but neither one of them cared.
Oliver was just about to catch the snitch when he heard a crash. He gasped, his hair standing up.
Oliver, with all thoughts of the snitch forgotten, raced to find his father.
But the sky was so dark, and the rain fierce that it took him some time. He finally found his father lying on the ground next to his broom.
Oliver jumped off his broom, not caring that he broke a few bones doing it, and rushed to his father's side. Huston was motionless. Blood trickled down from his forehead and mingled with the rain.
Oliver's heart skipped a beat as he stared at his unconscious father. "HELP!" he cried, searching desperately for someone on the streets, but the streets were deserted except for a few cats looking for dry shelter.
He could fly his father to St. Mungos, but he didn't know where the hospital was.
"O-Oliver . . ."
Oliver held on to his father's hand, his face wet with the rain and salty tears. "Dad! Don't leave me! It's going to be okay dad," but Oliver didn't quite believe himself.
Huston struggled to get up, but instantly fell back down. His voice was hoarse. "Ollie—it hurts all over . . .I can't see too well—"
"Don't strain yourself, dad. Lay still. You'll be okay, dad, you'll be okay—" Oliver sobbed.
His father brought a shaking hand to his son's face and gave a weak smile. "Don't cry, son. Men don't cry." He said, though his voice wasn't clear. Huston coughed blood. Oliver held on tighter.
"Dad . . .I'm so sorry. I should've listened to you! I should have—"
"Ollie. My lovely Ollie. D-don't blame y-yourself. I had the b-best time with you t-today . . ."
Oliver managed to smile a little, and choked down sobs. Still his tears fell. "Please! Father! Don't go! I promise I'll never play quidditch again! I promise I'll never—" Oliver trailed off due to his heavy heart and huge sobs.
"I'll never play in the rain again . . .I promise, father . . ." His father gave him the most tender smile.
"Never . . ." he coughed blood again. "Never stop p-playing . . .n-never give up—be the b-best you c-can, son—b-be—" His father trailed off, his voice getting weaker. The rain grew stronger still, and the wind thrashed at houses and roofs. Dogs barked and cats shrieked. But Oliver didn't care. He strained to here his father's words.
"I . . .I love you, son—t-tell your mother so too—" Oliver sobbed louder. "NO dad! You'll make it! We'll be able to do this again! Tomorrow we can polish our brooms and—and—"
But Oliver felt Huston gasping for breath. "I love you dad! Please—please don't go! Fight it, dad! You're strong! You're strong—it's just a little drizzle dad! Just a little drizzle! It won't kill you! It won't!" Oliver cried, trying to convince himself.
But the hand of his father on his face fell to the ground. Oliver quickly caught it and pressed the limp hand onto his cheek. "N-no, dad. You can't be gone! Dad! Please! Wake up! Wake up, dad! Please . . ." Oliver's tears fell onto his father's face, mixing with the rain and the blood.
Oliver cried out for help. No one came. The storm rose, and the lighting cackled. "It's just drizzle, dad . . .you're not dead . . ." But he was. Huston Wood was gone. And Oliver could do nothing but lay beside his father in the cold, harsh storm, crying guiltily with a heavy heart.
"I love you too dad."
*
``~END FLASHBACK~``
Oliver was unaware that he clung on to Hermione, sobbing like a child. Hermione patted is back, stroked his hair and whispered comforting words into his ear.
Hermione too, was crying. Oliver sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Everything was still, except the two people on a bench, crying.
After a while, a long while, Hermione released Oliver. His eyes were red, and so was his nose. He stopped crying, but he was still gulping down sobs.
He looked embarrassed. "I—I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to—"
Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand. "It's okay, Oliver." She assured him, smiling, though tears ran down her cheeks.
"I feel stupid." Oliver muttered, not looking at her. Hermione put a comforting hand on top of his. "It's good to cry sometimes. It helps a bit." She said. He nodded, sniffing. "I still feel like a baby." He said under his breath. "I have never cried in front of anyone. Much less a girl."
Hermione started to say something when Luella and Geoffrey spotted them. "There you are!" Luella exclaimed, running over to Hermione and Oliver. "We wondered where you two were!"
Then Geoffrey saw the two tear streaked faces. "Good brooms! What have you two been up to?!"
Luella came to notice this for the first time. "Oh my word! Oliver, dear! You're crying! And Hermione! What on earth happened?"
Hermione sniffled. "Uh. . . a squirrel give birth." She lied. Geoffrey and Luella gave her a surprised look.
"Err—yes! It was such a lovely sight. You know, birth of a new life and stuff like that. Miracle of life." Oliver added. Luella and Geoffrey exchanged confused looks.
"Yes." Hermione nodded. "The squirrel was uh. . .female."
Oliver arched a brow and stared at her. Luella laughed. "Well . . . of course, dear. If she gave birth, I suppose she's female."
"Enough of these tears! Wipe your faces and grab your coats. It's getting late." Geoffrey said, trying to cheer the two up.
Oliver and Hermione gave their parents weak smiles and walked into the restaurant.
"Well! I never knew my son was so sensitive." Luella mused. "And I never knew Hermione could tell the difference of a male squirrel to a female squirrel." Geoffrey said.
Luella chuckled.
*
"Well. It was a very good lunch." Geoffrey said. "Thank you."
Luella blushed. "It should be me thanking you, Geoffrey." She said. "So thank you. I had a blast."
Geoffrey and Hermione walked Luella and Oliver to their door. "Uh, Luella?" Geoffrey's confident demeanor (A/N: use of words?) vanished and he looked quite nervous. "Would you like to do this again?"
Luella Wood looked shocked—and then like her birthday had come early. "O-of course, Geoffrey. I'd like that very much."
Oliver and Hermione watched at a distance. Then Oliver turned to Hermione. "Hey, Hermione?"
"Hmm?"
"About a while ago—"
"Don't worry, Ollie. I won't spill the beans on anyone." She giggled, and so did he. (Laughed, not giggled that is. Oliver doesn't giggle. Does he?)
"Well, thank you for uh, listening to me—and not laughing." He gave her a sheepish grin. Hermione couldn't help but smile back.
"Okay. Uh, see you." Hermione extended her hand for Oliver to shake. He took it with a heart-stopping grin.
Just as soon as their hands met, (for the second time) a wave of electric sensation washed over them. It felt good. Very good. Excellent, in fact. Not to mention shocking.
Hermione gasped. Oliver looked stunned.
Then, a smile crept from Oliver's lips as he shook Hermione's hand. "I'm looking forward to it." He said.
Hermione just nodded, quite bewildered. Neither of them let go. Then Hermione smiled too.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I know this chapter was kind of angsty or something. Maybe there was too much drama. But I'll never know, will I? Unless you review! Bwahahahahahaha! I promise, Oliver and Hermione will get together in the following chapters! I hope you liked this chapter! If you didn't well. . .then you didn't. LOL! =) Thanks to my reviewers!
(I hope I got everyone!)
Suicide-greeting – I give to thee, ice cream!
Diana in Texas – I give to thee, a lollipop!
GeekGoddess1 – I give to thee, chocolates!
Golden wolf 73 – I give to thee, apple pie!
Keaira Malfoy – I give to thee, cinnamon rolls!
REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now)
========= STORY TIME! =========
Chapter 2 – It isn't the food that's weird (Boys do cry)
+
Luella and Geoffrey had been doing most of the talking with the occasional nods from Oliver and the "Oh really" 's from Hermione.
Oliver amused himself by drinking big, rapid gulps of water, while Hermione picked at her food. By the time Hermione decided that she wasn't hungry, Oliver had drunk ten glasses of water.
Luella and Geoffrey were in their own world, talking, gazing at each other, and talking again.
As Oliver gulped down his eleventh glass, he felt like his bladder was going to explode. "Excuse me, I'm going to the—" but he trailed off since no one was listening anyway.
He practically ran to the men's room. Hermione, on the other hand was tired of all this . . .flirting, if you could call it that. She excused herself, not like anyone cared anyway, and went out back to the restaurant's small but beautiful Japanese garden.
On her way there, she bumped into Oliver on his way back to the table. "Where're you going?" he asked. "I'm going to the garden out back." She answered. "Can't stand it there."
Oliver nodded. "You've got that right. I've never seen my mother act like this. May I come with you?" he asked. Hermione nodded. "Why not?"
They walked beside each other—though keeping a fair distance—to the garden. When they reached their destination, neither one of them could contain a sigh of admiration.
It wasn't fancy or anything, but it *did* make them feel as though they were in Japan.
The cherry blossoms danced to the beat of the wind, spraying flowers around the air ever so slightly. Oliver even noticed that there were some fireflies fluttering around.
Hermione and Oliver sat on a bench, admiring the Japanese garden. "Have you ever been to Japan?" Oliver asked suddenly. Hermione shook her head, still tracing the faint glow of the fireflies' light with her eyes. It was a miracle she could see them in the day.
"No. You?"
"No. My dad and I were planning to go one day but . . ." Oliver's voice faltered. Hermione turned to look at him. "What happened?" she asked. "How come your plans didn't work out?"
"Well . . ." Oliver gulped. "My father, he—well he got into an accident and. . ."
Hermione gasped. "Accident? When?" Oliver stared at the sky and began his sorrowful tale.
"It was in my fifth year. It was raining, but not that hard. My father and I were to play quidditch that day in our quidditch pitch." Oliver took a deep breath. His voice quavered. "I—I remember it so well."
``~Flashback~``
Oliver rushed to the living room and found his father sitting on his favorite armchair, reading a book.
"Dad!" Oliver made his way up to his father and shook his shoulder. "Dad you promised!"
Oliver's father, Huston Wood, lowered his book and gave his son a tired look. "Not today, Ollie. It's raining."
But Oliver wouldn't give up. "We planned this a month ago! You're always busy. Today's your free day and you *told* me you'd play quidditch with me. You told me so. I remember!" Oliver held up his broom.
His father sighed. "Maybe another time, son. It looks dangerous." Still, Oliver would not give in. "It's just a little drizzle. It won't kill you dad."
Huston Wood scratched his chin. "Ollie," he started, giving the boy a look of affection but firmness as well. But Oliver stopped him. "You always said a true quidditch man doesn't let rain or snow stop him. You said that."
Huston chuckled, his big belly bouncing slightly. The man looked exactly like Santa Claus, except he didn't have a big white beard. But he did have the bushy white mustache. "Aye," he said, nodding. "You remember what I tell you. Why aren't you ever forgetful like your mother?" They laughed.
"Alright, son. Just because you're my boy." Oliver's eyes lit up as he ran to the closet and pulled out his father's broom.
"Off we go then, Ollie."
As they stepped onto the quidditch pitch, Oliver's father frowned. "Looks like rain." He said, staring at the clouds. Lightning streaked the sky and the thunder boomed twice as loud.
"It's just a little drizzle. It won't kill you." Oliver repeated, seeing the look on his father's face. Huston put on a cheery smile though his eyes betrayed him.
They zipped into the air, and Huston was starting to have fun. Just like his son, Huston Wood loved quidditch. Sometimes, Luella, his wife, would scold Oliver and him for obsessing about quidditch too much.
Oliver and Huston were having the best time since the last time they had the best time (LOL) that they ignored the rain.
In time, the rain got stronger and stronger, and the thunder got louder and louder but neither one of them cared.
Oliver was just about to catch the snitch when he heard a crash. He gasped, his hair standing up.
Oliver, with all thoughts of the snitch forgotten, raced to find his father.
But the sky was so dark, and the rain fierce that it took him some time. He finally found his father lying on the ground next to his broom.
Oliver jumped off his broom, not caring that he broke a few bones doing it, and rushed to his father's side. Huston was motionless. Blood trickled down from his forehead and mingled with the rain.
Oliver's heart skipped a beat as he stared at his unconscious father. "HELP!" he cried, searching desperately for someone on the streets, but the streets were deserted except for a few cats looking for dry shelter.
He could fly his father to St. Mungos, but he didn't know where the hospital was.
"O-Oliver . . ."
Oliver held on to his father's hand, his face wet with the rain and salty tears. "Dad! Don't leave me! It's going to be okay dad," but Oliver didn't quite believe himself.
Huston struggled to get up, but instantly fell back down. His voice was hoarse. "Ollie—it hurts all over . . .I can't see too well—"
"Don't strain yourself, dad. Lay still. You'll be okay, dad, you'll be okay—" Oliver sobbed.
His father brought a shaking hand to his son's face and gave a weak smile. "Don't cry, son. Men don't cry." He said, though his voice wasn't clear. Huston coughed blood. Oliver held on tighter.
"Dad . . .I'm so sorry. I should've listened to you! I should have—"
"Ollie. My lovely Ollie. D-don't blame y-yourself. I had the b-best time with you t-today . . ."
Oliver managed to smile a little, and choked down sobs. Still his tears fell. "Please! Father! Don't go! I promise I'll never play quidditch again! I promise I'll never—" Oliver trailed off due to his heavy heart and huge sobs.
"I'll never play in the rain again . . .I promise, father . . ." His father gave him the most tender smile.
"Never . . ." he coughed blood again. "Never stop p-playing . . .n-never give up—be the b-best you c-can, son—b-be—" His father trailed off, his voice getting weaker. The rain grew stronger still, and the wind thrashed at houses and roofs. Dogs barked and cats shrieked. But Oliver didn't care. He strained to here his father's words.
"I . . .I love you, son—t-tell your mother so too—" Oliver sobbed louder. "NO dad! You'll make it! We'll be able to do this again! Tomorrow we can polish our brooms and—and—"
But Oliver felt Huston gasping for breath. "I love you dad! Please—please don't go! Fight it, dad! You're strong! You're strong—it's just a little drizzle dad! Just a little drizzle! It won't kill you! It won't!" Oliver cried, trying to convince himself.
But the hand of his father on his face fell to the ground. Oliver quickly caught it and pressed the limp hand onto his cheek. "N-no, dad. You can't be gone! Dad! Please! Wake up! Wake up, dad! Please . . ." Oliver's tears fell onto his father's face, mixing with the rain and the blood.
Oliver cried out for help. No one came. The storm rose, and the lighting cackled. "It's just drizzle, dad . . .you're not dead . . ." But he was. Huston Wood was gone. And Oliver could do nothing but lay beside his father in the cold, harsh storm, crying guiltily with a heavy heart.
"I love you too dad."
*
``~END FLASHBACK~``
Oliver was unaware that he clung on to Hermione, sobbing like a child. Hermione patted is back, stroked his hair and whispered comforting words into his ear.
Hermione too, was crying. Oliver sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Everything was still, except the two people on a bench, crying.
After a while, a long while, Hermione released Oliver. His eyes were red, and so was his nose. He stopped crying, but he was still gulping down sobs.
He looked embarrassed. "I—I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to—"
Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand. "It's okay, Oliver." She assured him, smiling, though tears ran down her cheeks.
"I feel stupid." Oliver muttered, not looking at her. Hermione put a comforting hand on top of his. "It's good to cry sometimes. It helps a bit." She said. He nodded, sniffing. "I still feel like a baby." He said under his breath. "I have never cried in front of anyone. Much less a girl."
Hermione started to say something when Luella and Geoffrey spotted them. "There you are!" Luella exclaimed, running over to Hermione and Oliver. "We wondered where you two were!"
Then Geoffrey saw the two tear streaked faces. "Good brooms! What have you two been up to?!"
Luella came to notice this for the first time. "Oh my word! Oliver, dear! You're crying! And Hermione! What on earth happened?"
Hermione sniffled. "Uh. . . a squirrel give birth." She lied. Geoffrey and Luella gave her a surprised look.
"Err—yes! It was such a lovely sight. You know, birth of a new life and stuff like that. Miracle of life." Oliver added. Luella and Geoffrey exchanged confused looks.
"Yes." Hermione nodded. "The squirrel was uh. . .female."
Oliver arched a brow and stared at her. Luella laughed. "Well . . . of course, dear. If she gave birth, I suppose she's female."
"Enough of these tears! Wipe your faces and grab your coats. It's getting late." Geoffrey said, trying to cheer the two up.
Oliver and Hermione gave their parents weak smiles and walked into the restaurant.
"Well! I never knew my son was so sensitive." Luella mused. "And I never knew Hermione could tell the difference of a male squirrel to a female squirrel." Geoffrey said.
Luella chuckled.
*
"Well. It was a very good lunch." Geoffrey said. "Thank you."
Luella blushed. "It should be me thanking you, Geoffrey." She said. "So thank you. I had a blast."
Geoffrey and Hermione walked Luella and Oliver to their door. "Uh, Luella?" Geoffrey's confident demeanor (A/N: use of words?) vanished and he looked quite nervous. "Would you like to do this again?"
Luella Wood looked shocked—and then like her birthday had come early. "O-of course, Geoffrey. I'd like that very much."
Oliver and Hermione watched at a distance. Then Oliver turned to Hermione. "Hey, Hermione?"
"Hmm?"
"About a while ago—"
"Don't worry, Ollie. I won't spill the beans on anyone." She giggled, and so did he. (Laughed, not giggled that is. Oliver doesn't giggle. Does he?)
"Well, thank you for uh, listening to me—and not laughing." He gave her a sheepish grin. Hermione couldn't help but smile back.
"Okay. Uh, see you." Hermione extended her hand for Oliver to shake. He took it with a heart-stopping grin.
Just as soon as their hands met, (for the second time) a wave of electric sensation washed over them. It felt good. Very good. Excellent, in fact. Not to mention shocking.
Hermione gasped. Oliver looked stunned.
Then, a smile crept from Oliver's lips as he shook Hermione's hand. "I'm looking forward to it." He said.
Hermione just nodded, quite bewildered. Neither of them let go. Then Hermione smiled too.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I know this chapter was kind of angsty or something. Maybe there was too much drama. But I'll never know, will I? Unless you review! Bwahahahahahaha! I promise, Oliver and Hermione will get together in the following chapters! I hope you liked this chapter! If you didn't well. . .then you didn't. LOL! =) Thanks to my reviewers!
(I hope I got everyone!)
Suicide-greeting – I give to thee, ice cream!
Diana in Texas – I give to thee, a lollipop!
GeekGoddess1 – I give to thee, chocolates!
Golden wolf 73 – I give to thee, apple pie!
Keaira Malfoy – I give to thee, cinnamon rolls!