A/N : Yay! Loads of reviews for chapter four! Your reviews are my flesh and blood – so please don't stop! Well, I'm glad you all seem to like the whole Katie-thinking-Oliver-is-gay thing. And let it just be known that I have NOTHING against homosexuals – I don't want to offend anyone, okay? Oh, yeah, I happened to read this other Katie/Oliver fic the other day (Riding The Line Between Love And Hate) and I noticed that there are some similarities between my story and the author's. Since I have only just read that story, I hope you realize what I am trying to tell you – I am not copying or trying to copy anybody! Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Okay? Okay. And slight note : this chapter carries on from where we previously left Katie and Oliver, in the Quidditch stands.
Chapter Five : Baywatch Starring Minerva McGonagall
"So, Orli," I began oh-so-casually, "how have you been lately?"
Oliver sat himself down next to me and replied, "Fine, I suppose. And you?"
AHA.
Classic gay reply.
"Oh, I'm good," I responded, flashing him a quick smile. His eyes seemed to flash some sort of emotion for the teeniest second before he smiled back at me and I realized, once again, how handsome our Mr Wood had become. Isn't it awful how all the decent guys turn out gay?
"So why don't you tell me the real reason why you're here?" Oliver asked before I could begin The Grand Interrogation.
Oh, no, no one changes the subject on me, Oliver Wood!
The poor thing must be embarrassed. He must have been born with a psychic gene in his body and could sense that I was going to ask him about you-know-what, and decided to distract me! Awww. Poor ickle Orli.
I figured that I, in return for him having such a nice ass, would give him a chance to gather up his courage to tell me The Truth. I wasn't being perverted either, I swear, because you really should have seen his ass. Me-ow!
"Well, I was here to play Quidditch, but SOMEONE wouldn't let me. Gee. I wonder who it was," I glared at him.
Oliver waved my accusation aside and laughed.
He obviously missed my point.
"No, I mean, you're always the one starting a whole riot about practicing so much, and now you're just showing up when you have an extremely good excuse to laze about on your hands? Call me crazy, Katie Bell, but this is starting to look very much like a whole who-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-with-my-friend situation."
"Okay. You're crazy," I replied point blank. "Since when do I 'start a whole riot' about practices? I happen to like flying," I said defensively.
What was he going on about??? All his gayness was probably making him delusional. I do not recall a single time when I EVER protested about our practices. Well, maybe once. More or less. Yeah, three times, tops.
Okay, so I complain about practices thirteen times a day, SO WHAT?
"I never you said you didn't like flying; I know you do, and I know you're good at it, as well," Oliver replied.
Awww, stop, Orli! You're making me blush!
"You're better at it than me, you know...and trust me, that's about the biggest compliment you're ever going to get from me," I grinned and poked him lightly in the shoulder.
"Don't I know it?" Oliver laughed and poked me back. It was one of those Kodak moments and I half expected Colin Creevey (this freaky second-year boy who is practically married to his camera yes I am serious married to his camera!) to pop out of nowhere and take a picture of the two of us. I wouldn't have minded, though. Because honestly, that day was one of Oliver's better days, and he looked absolutely spiffing. His eyes were sort of twinkling as he looked at me, his cheeks were rosy like a little boy's, his smile was impeccable and his hair didn't look like a piece of crap.
Which was more than I could say for mine, which currently looked like it belonged more in a taxidermist's office than on my head.
"So come on, Katie – tell me why you're here," he continued, getting all serious again. There was something funny about the way he was looking at me, and all of a sudden I noticed that he was clenching and unclenching his right fist – something that he only did whenever he was nervous or under pressure about something.
My Oliver Is Psychic theory must have been right!
He does know what I'm going to talk to him about!
"Okay, Oliver...you've got me. I do have a reason for coming down here today," I finally admitted.
Oliver smirked and leaned back in his seat slightly, never looking away from me. "I thought so," he simply said. I noticed that he was still doing that fist thing.
"I came here today," I announced grandly, giving Oliver a superior look, "because I wanted to talk to you about something."
I saw Oliver's eyes flash for a split second and a hot flush rose in his cheeks. Before I could say anything, though, Oliver quickly asked, "You wanted to talk to me? About...something?"
"Yes, Oliver. About something."
Oliver was now blushing so much that I swear you could have fried an egg on his face. I was very tempted to try, for my wand was tucked into the shirt that I was wearing underneath my Quidditch robes, but I felt that he would be embarrassed enough with the whole coming out of the closet thing. Let's just add an egg on his face to the whole situation, why don't we? I mean, if you think about it, this whole thing is pretty screwed up as it is.
Right then, though, Oliver took a deep breath and I knew he was going to come out with something.
Something major.
Like a confession about his sexuality, perhaps?
Oooh.
Fun.
I decided to help him along.
"Come on, Oliver," I cajoled. "Just say it. I'll be right there for you."
The blush on Oliver's face darkened even more. Finally, he blurted out, "I...I know what you want to talk to me about."
I blinked. Well, it wasn't what I had expected him to say, but at least we were still on the subject. It looked like it was up to me to state the obvious – that he was a goddamn homosexual. I have to do everything around here.
I sighed. "Good, Oliver. It's good that you know. Because I, for one, don't think we should keep things from each other any longer. This type of thing may change things between us forever, but I can assure you that I will always try my very best to be there for you. Alright? I mean, there's nothing wrong in being a homosexual. Seriously. It's not your fault at all, you were just born that way –"
I stopped mid-consolation at the look on Oliver's face.
He looked like my mom did when she's realized that she's begun to menstruate and has completely run out of tampons.
However, I was pretty certain Oliver wasn't menstruating, so I could pretty much rule that presumption out.
But ya never know.
Oliver appeared to be struggling to say something; his mouth kept opening and closing again like my sister's pet goldfish back home in Dublin. Luckily, he was much more handsome than Bubbles ever would be. Thank the gods for small favours.
"You...you think I'm gay?" he finally spluttered.
Well yeah.
"Um...yes, I do. You don't have to be shy about it or anything, we're all friends around here -"
Oliver didn't seem to be appreciating my taking the time to counsel him about this because it didn't look like he was even listening to me. He was holding his head in his hands, muttering over and over, "She thinks I'm gay...she thinks I'm gay...she thinks I'm gay...she thinks I'm gay...she thinks I'm GAY!!!"
"Hey!" I exclaimed indignantly. "Are you even LISTENING to me?"
He looked up at me in one sudden movement.
"YOU THINK I'M GAY?!" he bellowed.
In the distance, I could see a few Quidditch-robed figures hovering in the air turn to look in our direction.
"Hush, Oliver, indoor voice, please..." I murmured nervously, having the grace to feel embarrassed for both Oliver and myself.
"But we're outdoors!" Oliver half-yelled, his face now such a deep shade of red I was half expecting it to blow up at any second.
"It doesn't matter!"
"Then why do you care?"
"Because – that's not the point!"
"Then why are we talking about this?"
"But we're outdoors!" I mimicked.
"That's completely beside the point!"
"But you asked!"
"You didn't have to reply!"
"Then why did you ask?"
"You could have kept a respectful silence!"
"Respectful to you?"
"Why,
thank you, Katie, I never knew you
had it in you."
"Do you want me to bleed, too?"
"Yes, that would be nice, thank you very much!" Oliver glared.
Both of us shot daggers at each other for a few tense seconds when I realized that I had absolutely no idea why we were bickering in the first place. I sighed and ventured, "Oliver..."
I looked at Oliver and felt a jolt in my stomach when I saw the expression on his face. There was something there...something that looked like – hurt?? But why would he be hurt? It didn't make sense at all...
Oliver must have sensed that I was looking at him, for he quickly rearranged his facial features into something that remotely resembled a smile and said, "Yes, Katie?"
Oh, Merlin.
I used to think that The Look was bad, but this was an entirely different Look he was giving me – and I did not like it at all.
What was going on?
I didn't have a clue, and I did not like it one bit.
"Oliver...are you okay?" I brought myself to ask.
I was severely tempted to take hold of his hand and comfort him from whatever was bothering him so badly, but something inside me stopped me from doing so – and I didn't know whether that was good or bad.
Why was I so confused?
I never had been in all the years I had known Oliver – things were always straight and done with him, not completely screwed up like the way they were now.
Something was changing.
And I didn't think I liked it.
"It's a lump of dung. I would bet on my life that it's a lump of dung."
"Don't be stupid, Fred, there is absolutely no way it can be a lump of dung."
"And why is that, Angie?"
"Because that's a lump of dung."
"What – ahhh. Forgive me, milady. I now see the error of my ways."
"Forgiven," Angelina giggled as Fred kissed her hand.
George and I exchanged looks across the table from each other and made slight gagging noises. No PDAs, please!
"You know, that's really unhygienic. Both of you happen to be eating," Lene pointed out, crunching on a celery stick. I still hadn't gotten around to talking to her yet, but I didn't think I needed any more stress after that day at Quidditch practice.
Dinner was a time for food, laughter, and discussions about lumps of dung – stress had no place in it.
Fred and Angie were actually trying to spot constellations on the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling – I highly doubted any of the constellations they were looking at even existed, but oh well, they could have their fun.
"At least we're eating, Lene. You've hardly touched a thing since breakfast," Angelina shot back.
To our surprise, Lene immediately pushed her vegetable-loaded plate away and snapped, "It's none of your business, Angie. It's mine, and I'm not hungry!"
There was an awkward silence for a while which Fred quickly broke with a, "And...er...that looks like Neville Longbottom's grandma."
Obviously, he was running out of ideas.
I left Fred and Angelina to their devices as I discreetly watched Lene look away from the four of us with an unhappy but strangely determined look on her face. I had known her for practically eons, and I knew for sure that something was wrong with her. It just wasn't clear what...
I was distracted by a sudden loud – very loud – shriek of laughter from Angelina. George was laughing, as well, while Fred looked at them with a puzzled look on his face. "What?" he asked innocently. "They do look like McGonagall's boobs!"
I immediately scrunched up my face in disgust and pushed my plate away. I wasn't feeling particularly hungry any longer.
"That is disgusting, you guys," I said loudly, trying to block out the voices of the three perverts around me.
"Katie doesn't like McGonagall's boobs," George sang loudly to the others, who immediately burst into hysterics again.
Through all my disgust, I noticed that Lene wasn't laughing with them – and she was normally the first to join in. I really needed to talk to that girl.
"Bounce, baby, bounce baby...b-b-b-bounce baby! Bounce, baby, bounce baby..." they started singing now, extra loudly just for my hearing pleasure.
"LALALA I'M NOT LISTENING," I yelled, scrambling to cover my ears.
"BOUNCE, BABY, BOUNCE, BABY..." they continued in even louder voices.
"HOGWARTS, HOGWARTS, HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS..." I sang as loud as I could.
Oh, bloody Merlin.
Their volume just increased with every word that I said until I finally gave up hope and realized that I was going to be stuck listening to them talk about Professor McGonagall's physical assets or lack thereof for the rest of the night.
"That is gross, people," Lene finally intervened loudly, the ghost of a smile on her face.
"Exactly!" I chimed in. "Some people here are actually trying to eat...and I would really appreciate it if boobs were not mentioned while I am having my dinner, if that isn't too much to ask..."
"Oh, no," Angelina said with a straight face. "Minervie doesn't have boobs to talk about, let alone bounce, actually. She ought to get some sisterly advice from Pamela Anderson and BUY HERSELF SOME CLEAVAGE, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!"
You would have thought she had said something even remotely funny, as she and the twins immediately cracked up again. At least this time Lene joined them. I was just feeling extremely horrified at the thought of Professor McGonagall in a tight red swimsuit, jogging along a beach in slow-mo...
"Oh, ugggggggh..." I groaned, and immediately dropped the Cauldron Cake I was about to sink my teeth into.
I didn't think I was going to be feeling very hungry that night.
Back to Oliver, he had jumped up and flew away from me as if I had the plague the second my watch beeped, signalling the end of practice. He hadn't even really said goodbye to me – just a quick yell of, "See you later!" and he was gone.
So not only was he stupid, but he was a snob, too.
Charming.
I'm sure his mother must be so proud.
That night we started his tutoring session rather awkwardly; neither of us saying anything much when usually we would be at each other's throats from the first 'Hello'. Metaphorically speaking, of course – we never ever did make it to hello.
We started with History of Magic that night, and somehow managed to survive until it was time for Potions. I seriously could not understand how Professor Snape was able to put up with him. I mean, you'd think a seventeen-year-old healthy teenage wizard from a good, self-respecting family such as his would know what the difference between a tablespoon and a teaspoon is.
Well, I'm not exactly sure, either, but that's totally beside the point.
Even if I am a girl and should know better.
"Does it even matter whether I put in a teaspoon or a tablespoon of shredded bat skin? For all you know, it won't even make a difference," Oliver finally said in frustration, running a hand through his hazel-brown hair.
"Let me put it this way, Oliver : you put in a teaspoon, you get a Soronea Potion. You put in a tablespoon, you get McGonagall Baywatch-style."
Oliver's eyes widened slightly as what I said sank deeeeeeeeeeep into his head.
I am pleased to say that he shut up after THAT visualization. Katie – one, Oliver – zilch.
Unfortunately, that was about the only remotely normal exchange of words we had, which, for some reason, bugged me to no end. I needed someone to annoy. And fast.
"Oliver...we need to talk," I finally got the courage to say, putting on a brave smile.
Hah.
I wish.
Instead, what came out was more of a, "Allvuhwenerdtolk," in an extremely squeaky voice; cue deep blush.
Oliver, who was in the middle of memorizing a list of ingredients for the Soronea Potion, looked up at me with an expression that I couldn't read. "I beg your pardon?" he asked coolly.
Oh, great.
Was he angry at me now?
I sighed. Well, I had already bitten the bullet...might as well go for it and just get it over with. "We need to talk, Oliver," I repeated, with only the slightest exaggeration on my enunciation of the five words. You see? I'm considerate.
Oliver folded the page of his Potions notebook that he was on and put it down on the table. "We're talking," he replied.
Oh, stop being a smart arse, you smart arse.
"We need to talk about what happened today at Quidditch practice," I continued, blatantly ignoring him. "I want to know why you're acting all weird on me when all I did was state the truth."
Oliver gave me The Stupid, Stupid Look. "The truth?" he smirked. "And what truth might that be?"
The boy has some serious acceptance problems. I think I should suggest to Professor Dumbledore that we need to get a school counsellor because Oliver here definitely needs one. Or more.
"Orli, how many times must I say this? There – is – nothing – wrong – with – being – a – gay!"
He shrugged and replied, "I know."
Well, you don't seem to be acting that way, are you?
"If you know, then why are you acting this way??" I asked him. I was seriously confused. I mean, the guy had more personalities than all the students in the school combined and it was giving me a major headache. Thanks to Oliver, I would probably die young. His great grandparents are probably turning in their graves right this second! But ew. No talking about dead people. That's just...eeew.
"Well, Katie dear, has it ever occurred to you that I may not be gay?" Oliver asked me in a voice so loaded with sarcasm someone as thick as – well, as thick as him would have noticed it.
Uh, now that you mention it, no, not really.
"You're not – you're not gay?? I mean, you're, you're really not...gay? Are you serious? No, as in really serious? But...but you're too nice to be straight. That's just not right. There has to be something wrong here – you have to be gay!"
"Really. I have to be gay. Well, I have to say, that's a new one on me, Katie, good job," Oliver said calmly, giving me The Look as much as he could without murdering me in the process.
Sniff.
Meanie.
Well, how was I supposed to know? In a way, he should have taken what I said as a compliment, about him being nice and all, but somehow he's managed to completely overlook that fact and blame this all on me. I am so sure this has anything to do with me at all. How positively insulting!
Then again, maybe I shouldn't have accused him of being gay...I mean, that had to hurt in the pride and all.
"Well..uh..whoops," I finally said sheepishly, scratching my cheek nervously.
Oliver gave me another Look before turning back to his book.
There was pin-drop silence, as the two of us were the only ones left in the common room.
A few minutes passed.
"So you're really not gay?" I blurted out. Sorry. I couldn't resist.
Oliver didn't give me a reply for a few minutes, so I assumed he was either too angry to talk to me or his Adam's apple had gone wonky (maybe turned into an Adam's papaya or something to that extent) because of all the tension in the room and therefore, he was not able to say a word.
I, however, was sadly mistaken (as always).
"Katie, are you a guy?" he suddenly asked, putting down his book and packing up his things, refusing to meet my eye while doing so.
Well, really, I knew he was senseless, but this was getting utterly out of hand.
"Er. No," I replied, not very sure whether it was some kind of trick question and if so, how I should answer it.
Oliver got up from his seat and finally looked me in the eye.
"Then I'm not gay," he said seriously.
What?
He walked out of the common room and climbed the steps to the boys' dormitories, leaving me alone in the deserted common room with my thoughts.
Oh.
My.
God.
What in the name of Merlin just happened??
A/N : Alright! Another chapter! Sorry if it's a bit late (I don't think it is, though) but I've been very distracted lately e.g. getting on the computer to type this story and ending up watching my anime instead. Hehe. I love Gensomaden Saiyuki. So sue me. Anyways, don't think I have to ask you, please review to tell me what you thought of this chapter! Good/bad reviews acceptable and are welcomed with open arms! ^_^ Must go now before I fall asleep right here. In the words of my I-wish-boyfriend Son Goku (from Gensomaden Saiyuki)... "HARAHETTA!"
