Oliver Oblivious
Oliver reevaluates his life to find that something's missing. On his quest for the perfect girl, he keeps bumping into Katie Bell. If only oblivious Oliver Wood would know that what he was searching for was right under his nose.
Chapter Three:
Meet Sarah Wood
He darted to the right hoop, his fingers gripping tightly around the Quaffle. A groan escaped Joscelind Wadcock; his hands managed to catch the Quaffle every time she threw the red ball toward the hoops. He easily thrust the scarlet ball toward the discouraged witch, her dark eyes narrowed in frustration. "We're going to keep playing until all of you," he said loudly, addressing the three, hovering Chasers, wearing the same dark expressions on their faces, "score at least six goals past me." A collective groan echoed through the Quidditch pitch.
"Seriously, Wood," Jonathan said lowering his club and zooming forward toward him. "The Magpies are going to be easy to beat…besides, we have the best Chasers…Wadcock, Bloor, and Griffiths. Besides, how can they get a goal past you? You're possibly the greatest Keeper of the century." Unbeknownst to Gimpsky, Oliver caught the discreet (and yet, not so) wink he gave to the rest of the team, who immediately murmured in agreement.
He grinned at Gimpsky, who looked particularly proud of himself. "Unfortunately," he said dropping the grin, "flattery doesn't work on me, Gimpsky." Jonathan scowled nastily at Oliver; he failed to mention that a Bludger was whistling toward Oliver's head. Fortunately, he ducked out of the way, glaring nastily at Gimpsky. "For that, we're practicing for an extra hour after you get those six goals."
Everyone groaned. Joscelind smacked Gimpsky on the arm before darting away with the Quaffle tucked safely underneath her arm.
When the tired, weary team descended, streaks of orange and purple painted the skies as the sun descended behind the hills. "You're evil, Wood," Gimpsky said irritably as he tossed his sweat-drenched robes onto the bench.
"Well, considering you almost let a Bludger hit my head," Oliver said smoothly, folding his dirty robes carefully and tugging on a gray sweater onto his bare torso.
"How's the search coming along?" Jonathan asked smirking slightly.
"Horrible. I found a pretty, smart girl at the Dragon's Breath--turned out she thought Quidditch was mediocre!" he said. "Isn't she mad?"
"I think you're mad," Gimpsky pointed out. "She was pretty and smart--you should've given her a chance. My mum doesn't like Quidditch, too."
"Raving," Oliver said ignoring Jonathan, deciding to leave the details of his angry outburst out of the conversation. He tugged on a pair of rugged jeans, a nasty rip on the knee from the time he tripped on a mud puddle on the Quidditch pitch. "I made a list," he added unnecessarily.
Jonathan smirked, his eyes twinkling. "Really? What kind of list?"
Oliver dug a hand into his pocket, retrieving the parchment he had taken to carrying everywhere with him. He handed it to Jonathan who unfolded it recklessly and began reading it, his smirk widening as his eyes fell on every word.
"You're so desperate, Wood," Gimpsky laughed handing back the parchment.
"Shut up," Oliver snapped.
"So…this girl didn't get past number one on the last, did she?" Jonathan snorted, placing the parchment into Oliver's hands and throwing on a white shirt easily. "You know, if I help you find this perfect girlfriend of yours, will you cancel Quidditch practice tomorrow?"
Oliver narrowed his eyes. "Maybe," he said grudgingly, staring down at Jonathan's outstretched hand.
"I promise I'll have you on a hot date by tomorrow night," Gimpsky said with a wide grin. "If not, you and I can have an extra Quidditch practice at dawn. Promise." Oliver slipped his hand into Jonathan's, shaking it briskly before tucking the list back into his jean pocket. Gimpsky smirked.
"Look, mate, I found someone perfect for you!" Jonathan's voice floated into the kitchen.
"Did Twinky let you in?" Oliver groaned burying his head in his hands. "I'm telling her not to invite you into my house anymore."
A grinning Jonathan Gimpsky strolled into the kitchen, his hands stuck into his jean pockets. "She's perfect for you. Obsessed with Quidditch and loves the Puddlemere United so she'll be excited about seeing you," he said smirking. "Pretty decent…I mean, her nose is a little off-center, but it's going to be fine."
Oliver's lip curled slightly. He was never the one who agreed to friends setting him up with a girlfriend. "I am desperate," he said frowning deeply. "I can't believe I let you set me up with a girl."
"I thought your life was incomplete," Gimpsky mocked. "Besides, I told her you'd meet her at the Three Broomsticks at nine."
"She better not be a raving lunatic," Oliver grumbled. "It's eight…forty-five now." His eyes fell on the grandfather clock in the corner, basking in the glow of light radiating from the crackling fire in the hearth.
"Better get going before she thinks you showed her up," Jonathan chimed. "Maybe if you're lucky…she'll come back here." He winked.
"Shut up or I will schedule that break-of-dawn Quidditch practice," Oliver threatened. The smirk would not fade away from Gimpsky's face. He glanced at the mirror on the wall, examining his brown hair.
"You look radiant, dear," it drawled lazily, earning a snort from Jonathan. "Absolutely dashing."
"Radiant," Jonathan mimicked. "Cute as a button." He pressed his finger on Oliver's nose. "Adorable."
"Stuff it, you git," Oliver snapped. "And don't touch me. Merlin knows how much germs are on your finger…I wouldn't be surprised if you have fleas."
"I love you, too." He extracted his wand from his pocket and flicked it, a bouquet of flowers falling onto the table. "First cardinal rule of dating…bring her flowers. Good luck, my dearest. I'll let myself out." Oliver glared at his back as he disappeared through the entrance room. "Goodbye, Twinky!" he said loudly as he slammed the front door behind him.
Oliver rolled his eyes and got to his feet. He walked toward the doorway, but doubled back and grabbed the flowers grudgingly. After he bade Twinky goodnight, he walked outside of his house, breathing in the calm, still autumn air, the moon glowing in the dark skies. He closed his eyes, his body compressing tightly. He was unable to breathe until--
He opened his eyes and grinned at the familiar Hogsmeade. He glanced up at the glowing Three Broomsticks, walking through the doors into the familiar, comfortable atmosphere of the bar. He spotted Madam Rosmerta clicking away on her turquoise heels, sliding a tankard of butterbeer toward a group of rowdy wizards. She laughed at the joke one wizard was telling, something about a hag and a unicorn. Oliver glanced about the bar, glancing at the booths carefully. A squeal alerted him, and he jumped quickly as a pair of arms wrapped around him.
"I can't believe this!" the shrill voice shrieked loudly into his ear. "Oliver Wood! I can't believe it…wow!" He gasped as the arms tightened around his body. He struggled in her grasp and pushed away her arms, but they continued to snake around him. He sputtered and choked, managing the words--"Getroffme!"
"Oh!" the arms loosened and the figure stepped back. He panted heavily, catching his breath as he stared at the woman, clasping her hands together in excitement. Her caramel locks cascaded down her face in curls, her face round and rosy. Her blue eyes stared at him admiringly, and her large lips were curved into a huge smile, revealing her straight, white teeth. His eyes fell on her nose; Gimpsky was right about her discreetly, skewed nose.
"I'm Sarah Jenkins!" she said excitedly. "I love Quidditch and the Puddlemere United. They're my favorite team!" Oliver nodded as she continued gabbling on about the several Puddlemere United posters she plastered on her bedroom wall. His head throbbed from her excessively shrill voice as they headed toward the bar. He glanced down the crushed bouquet of flowers in his hand. He handed them to the chattering Sarah who accepted them with a squeal and plowed on with her story.
He smiled at Madam Rosemerta who gave him a mingled look of pity and amusement. "A firewhiskey…and what are you having, Sarah?" Oliver asked politely.
"Oh…um…I don't like to drink," Sarah said pausing slightly. "I'll have whatever you're having though…anyway, like I said, my brother would be so jealous if he knew that I was with you…you know, captain of the Puddlemere United! He's supported the team since he was born, practically. You know, I can't wait until that Magpie match that's coming up. Have you been practicing a lot?"
"Yeah," Oliver said relieved she had stopped talking for a moment. He took the glasses of firewhiskey that Madam Rosmerta passed across the counter toward him gratefully and handed one to Sarah. "Cheers." He swallowed down a large gulp.
Sarah sniffed the firewhiskey and took a small sip gingerly. Her face blanched. "I don't like it," she said shaking her head. "Too strong."
"Oh, that's fine," Oliver said. "Gillywater, then? Not too strong."
"No, that's okay, Oliver," she said bristling with excitement as she said his name. "I can't wait till my brother sees you! He'll die…I mean, me dating the captain of the Puddlemere United? I mean, my brother will just die…and to think, you'll be his brother-in-law in a few years…"
Oliver choked on his firewhiskey. She happily patted him on the back. "Wow, Sarah Wood. It's much more exciting than Jenkins," she said scowling slightly. "My name is so ordinary, don't you think?"
"Sarah W-Wood?" Oliver managed his eyes watering as he hacked wildly.
"I play Quidditch all the time with my brother. I always play Keeper, too," Sarah gabbled on. "Like you," she added happily. "I'm dating a professional Quidditch player! You got on the cover of Witch Weekly, too."
"Yeah, I know," Oliver said unnerved.
"That is so cool. You're…famous," she said relishing the words. "I'm dating a famous person!" She burst out into peals of shrill, high-pitched giggles. Shivers ran down Oliver's back at the sound.
"And I saw Jonathan Gimpsky! That was exciting. I mean, I was just eating ice-cream at Florean Fortescue…when he just came up to me. Wow, that was exciting. I almost fainted…"
"…and he's pretty cute, too. Are you two friends? That is so cool…"
"Hey, Sarah, you know what?" Oliver said loudly, cutting over her. She stared up at him with admiration. "I'm getting tired. I usually go to bed at…" He glanced at the clock in the far corner, squinting slightly to read it. "…at nine…and it's ten now so I'm exhausted, you know."
"Oh! Okay. Well, I figured you stayed up late…but I suppose it's 'cause of all the Quidditch practices and stuff, right?" Sarah said giggling. "So when can I see you again?"
"I'll…erm…owl you," Oliver coughed.
"Oh, okay!" Sarah said chirpily. Oliver quickly jumped to his feet and nearly ran for the door. In his haste to leave, he bumped into the figure walking toward the Three Broomsticks.
"Oh!" he said hurriedly moving out of the way. "Sorry…"
"Hey, Wood."
"Why do I keep bumping into you?" Oliver asked, astonished as he blinked at a grinning Katie Bell.
She shrugged. He glanced down at her, her dark locks pulled into a messy bun perched atop her head. She wore a black, empire-waist dress, gentle pleats forming underneath her bust. A black herringbone trench coat topped her dress, and the heels of her black boots crunched into the pebbles on the ground.
"What's the hurry?" she asked.
"I was…on a date with a girl," he said hesitantly. "She was crazy…and I think she might chase after me if I stay outside any longer…"
Katie quickly comprehended and snatched his arm, dragging him down the path. "I usually come to the Three Broomsticks to catch up with Madam Rosmerta every Saturday night," she explained. "But we can go to the Hog's Head for some drinks…if you want, anyway," she added, glancing up at Oliver. He shrugged.
"So, how was the hot date?" she asked with a smirk.
"Horrible," Oliver said shaking his head. "She kept talking on and on about how her brother would be so excited to see that she was dating a Quidditch star and how I was a Quidditch star. And her voice was awful. She only seemed to be interested in the fact that I was a professional Quidditch player…and she wouldn't stop talking…and oh yeah, she said that her name would be nice as Sarah Wood."
Katie burst out into her laughter. "Sounds horrible," she agreed. "At least she liked Quidditch this time. You really don't have a knack for women, do you?" The door creaked open as she twisted the knob open, the dusty atmosphere of the Hog's Head engulfing them. Oliver had only been the bar twice; he had brought his own glass and breathed through his mouth because of the overwhelming odor of goats. He wrinkled his nose; the odor had not seemed to have faded in the last few years.
The bartender stared up at them as the door closed, a flurry of dust washing over them. He gave them a grumpy look through his glasses, his silver hair falling down his shoulders, intertwining with his long, swaying beard. A dirty rag was gripped tightly in his bony, wrinkled hand, wiping a particularly dirty glass with the rag. Oliver winced slightly.
Katie noticed this and smiled. "Yeah, we had dusty butterbeers here once," she said with another laugh. She walked over to the counter and smiled brightly at the bartender, undaunted. "Can we have two firewhiskeys please? But wait--" The wizard glared at her as she waved her wand, two clean glasses appearing on the counter. He disappeared underneath the counter, fumbling with something loudly.
"Is that all you like to drink, firewhiskeys?" Oliver asked curiously. Katie shrugged.
"It gives you a nice kick," she said simply. "Like fire," she added with a chuckle.
"Besides, I could tell you needed something more than a butterbeer," she said smirking, "after that date…"
"Yeah," Oliver said as the grumpy bartender pushed the glasses of firewhiskey toward them. "Luckily, I had some at the Three Broomsticks, too…you know, to drown out her voice." He gulped down the drink, the familiar burning lingering in the back of his throat as he swallowed it.
"So besides Quidditch, what have you been up to?" Katie asked.
"Hm. Drinking at the Leaky Cauldron…this desperate quest for a girlfriend," he answered lazily. "Exploding Snap--lost ten Galleons last time. How about you?"
"Writing articles. Dull ones, mind you," Katie said rolling her eyes. "Cheese cauldron bottoms. I expect that the Witch Weekly will publish something about your recent escapades with girls. Especially that last one…you know, with the mediocre Quidditch-hater? I told you that already, didn't I?"
He frowned. "Yeah, I didn't think about things like that…"
"Well, that's the price you pay for being famous, Wood," Katie said obviously. "Oh well, it'll die down. You're a good Keeper…they won't heckle you for that long anyway. Not when their happiness depends on this upcoming Magpies match. Training your team to an oblivion like you did to us?"
"I do not train them into an oblivion!" Oliver said defensively. "And I didn't train you into one either!"
"Whatever Quidditch Nazi," Katie rolled her eyes. "You nearly killed us with those break-of-dawn practices. At some points, I really wanted to hex you." She caught his gaping mouth. "But I didn't 'cause you didn't win the Quidditch Cup after all those years and I knew you wanted it really badly. I guess it was worth it when we won…"
"Of course it was!" Oliver cried. "We won!"
"Ron wasn't as good as you," Katie contemplated. "Though, he did get better at the end of the year, but still…you were a good Keeper. Harry wasn't as much of a madman as you, though. That was good. Close your mouth, Wood. Don't act so surprised. You really are a piece of work."
"I don't think I can take any more insults," Oliver said grumpily.
"You brought it upon yourself," Katie said impatiently. "You're hard-working, determined, stubborn, crazy…all the qualities of an overachiever."
It was funny that he was sitting in the Hog's Head with Katie Bell, the girl he didn't look twice at in Hogwarts, listening to her list his flaws (apparently, he had many) over a glass of firewhiskey. Katie Bell, the Gryffindor Chaser, who he rarely had a true conversation with unless you counted, "C'mon, Bell! Score a damn goal, for Merlin's sake!"
He gave a small chuckle. She stopped talking and stared at him with her wide, dark eyes. "What? Why are you laughing?"
"You," he said truthfully. She scowled.
A/N: I absolutely love all of you and all the support you've been giving to this little story. It's going to be pretty short about seven or eight chapters. Like many of you said, Oliver is a complete lunatic and is not going to get any less desperate in the next few chapters, I'm sorry to say.
You guys are awesome! I love you.
Lots of thanks to: shadowkid1313, MoonshineFairy (ugh, I hate when my laptop dies on me! Glad you sorted it out), Celi, Lia06 (aw, poor guy. Probably scared by the wrath of your ranting…just kidding), Ashley (yes, Ollie is a nerd), imakeeper, TheBrassPotato (yes, after a few more chapters, the light bulb will go off), Meshugenah (unfortunately, Katie is still writing boring articles like cauldron bottoms so no, she will not be writing about Ollie's outburst), Miss Anthrope (yes, Oliver is blind…but he'll get it soon. Hehe), sweetblonde14 (Yes, I continued on with this story. See? Look at this chapter! Hehe), starry-eyes184 (hopefully, Oliver and Katie interacted more in this chapter), lilu05, Ghostwriter626, Lady Arre (Glad I'm off the hook! Hehe), and TooSweet4Words (ELITE! That sounds exciting).
Thanks again.