Oliver flushed deeply as he tried to tug the toilet paper out of the back of his pants. He had also realized that in his drunken stupor, he had tied up Twinky and put her in the oven. He hoped that she was not burnt to a crisp when he came back home because that would surely be a fine from the Ministry. He was sure it was crime to cook your house elf.

Not really. That's not how the story goes. Poor Twinky.

--------------------------

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 Six:

Closet Revelations

"How long have you been dating my old Chaser?"

His voice radiated with anger, his eyes flashing dangerously. His nails dug painfully into his palms as the fury bubbled inside him. His grip tightened around the neck of the firewhiskey bottle; the bottle groaned painfully in his hand, emitting ominous creaks from under his fingers.

"Aren't we possessive? Your Chaser, eh?" Gimpsky drawled, amusement dripping from every word he uttered. Oliver blinked, flushing deeply.

"Well, she was my Chaser--I was just stating the facts, I mean…she used to be on my House team--" Oliver stopped amid his blubbering, his face turning a deeper shade of red. He frowned slightly, staring up at Gimpsky's shadowed face.

"Is that all you wanted--the reason you pulled me into this closet?" Gimpsky pushed away a battered cloak from his face, coughing as the musty odor from the cloak wafted over his face. His face glowed in faint light falling through the cracks of the closed door. The laughter and talk of the party was muffled in the dark, cramped closet. Oliver shook his head, sliding down the wall and slumping on the floor, balancing the bottle of firewhiskey on his knees.

"I found the perfect girl for me," he said. The words felt odd tumbling out his mouth; for some odd reason, he did not feel ecstatic or completed like he thought he would be. "She was everything on the list." He glanced up at Gimpsky's face, a knowing, smug smirk twisted on his lips, illuminated by the crack of light falling through the door. He ran a hand through his head, doubtful thoughts running through his mind. It didn't feel right.

"Well, who is it?" Gimpsky said, swatting away a cloak from his face impatiently. He looked quite certain of himself, his smirk widening. He settled down on the floor after battling a cloak furiously, his darkened face staring at Oliver with anticipation.

"You know…Prudence Wilson," he said, his voice rather unconvincing to his ears. He thought he saw an alarmed, astonished look pass Gimpsky's face, but when he looked again, the light showed Gimpsky's smirking face.

"Good job, mate," he said heartily, leaning over and smacking Oliver's shoulder. "Happy for you. Finally getting that girl. Well, I think I'm going to get out of this closet--it's getting rather cramped in here and uncomfortable. Besides, Kates is waiting for me out there. If I'm lucky, I might convince her to stay at my flat--"

Oliver's hand gripped tightly around the neck of the bottle. "What?" he said tersely. "You can't do that!"

"Why? Do you fancy her or something?" Gimpsky joked.

"Don't--" he began jerkily, his eyes narrowed dangerously. His hand balled into a tight fist, yearning to sink into Gimpsky's grinning face.

"Do you? I thought you liked Prudence," Jonathan said his grin spreading across his face, the corner of his eyes crinkling. "Are you jealous?"

Oliver gaped, astonished. His cheeks burned furiously. "No!" he said immediately. "I just--I don't like hearing that you…well--that my old Chaser and you will…" His stomach twisted at the thought, and his grip tightened around the firewhiskey bottle.

"Okay, then," Gimpsky said climbing to his feet and twisting the closet door open. Blinding light fell on Oliver, revealing his reddened face and his pale knuckles on the firewhiskey bottle. His brown eyes were flashing with fury. Gimpsky obliviously stared down at Oliver with a large grin.

"Well, good luck with Prudence," he said walking towards the noise of the party, leaving Oliver stretched on the floor of the closet, his hand squeezing the firewhiskey bottle forcefully. It wasn't until an old, wizened witch hobbled to the closet to retrieve her cloak that Oliver left the closet, earning a curious stare from the witch.

He sidled beside Prudence again, staring into her face as she gabbled on, drinking her firewhiskey heartily. And although she was everything he thought he wanted, something felt terribly wrong. He could not seem to shake off the anger that coursed through him every time he thought of Jonathan Gimpsky and Katie Bell.

"What is it?"

Joscelind Wadcock stared at him irritably, a bite of impatience lacing her voice. She carefully balanced her broomstick over her shoulder, tossing her long, muddy brown ponytail behind her. She glanced wistfully over her shoulder at Griffiths and Bloor, laughing loudly at the something Eric Johnson was miming wildly with his hands.

"Sorry, Wood, but I think I played pretty well today. So don't even think about making me stay behind--frankly, I don't think we shouldn't even have practice because we just had our game two days ago and--"

"No, it's not that," Oliver said his face flushing slightly. "I need to talk to you."

Joscelind read his face with her eyes carefully. "Oh," she said comprehension dawning on her face, her expression softening considerably. "Leaky Cauldron?" Oliver nodded. "Alright," she said patiently. They walked down the sloping hills of the deserted moor quietly, brooms over their shoulders, solemn expressions on their faces. Without waiting for the rest of the team, they Apparated to the warm ambiance of the pub.

"Spill," Joscelind demanded as soon as they sat down at the scrubbed table with their drinks before them and their brooms propped against their chairs. She ignored the buzz of excitement from the group of teenagers, their eyes widening and their hands digging hurriedly into their pockets for spare quills and parchment.

"I found someone," he began uncertainly, "but…I just…it doesn't feel right. She was everything I wrote down on…"

"On what?" Oliver had forgotten that Wadcock knew nothing of the list. Embarrassed, his cheeks burning considerably, he extracted the crinkled ball of parchment out of his pocket. She furrowed her brows as she smoothed the parchment out on the table, torn at the edges from wear. It was a mark of her respect for him that she did not laugh, but he saw her struggling face.

"Oh, Wood," she sighed. "So this girl, she's everything on here?"

"Yeah…" Oliver squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, his face warm.

"Maybe…" She stared up at him wearily. "Maybe fate's trying to tell you something--don't interrupt and tell me you don't believe in fate--just listen. You're not meant to be with this girl, even if she meets the requirements of this--" She shook the list. "Besides, Wood, I don't think the perfect girlfriend is even this list. It's kind of a pathetic list with a lot of holes in it," she added apologetically.

Oliver tapped his fingers on the table, struggling with himself. He stared at Joscelind's earnest face. "And well, I'm mad at Gimpsky. But it's completely…" He stopped, searching for a word. "…crazy, for a lack of a better word…" She stared at him patiently, sipping her mulled mead carefully. "I'm mad at him for no reason. I'm mad at him because he's dating my old Chaser from the House team, Katie Bell. I've been seeing her everywhere, too. I…don't know. It made me furious when I saw them together. Sick to my stomach…am I mad?" He stared up at her as he dug his hands through his windswept hair.

He liked talking to Wadcock; she was the most sympathetic and least judgmental of his friends. She listened to him with such uncanny patience that it scared him sometimes. He stared up at her, surprised at the knowing smile on her lips. "Are you jealous, Wood?" she said smiling brightly. "How do you feel about Katie Bell?"

The question caught him off-guard. Slightly surprised, he blinked up at Joscelind's face, her eyes innocent and her smile intact. "She's easy to talk to," Oliver said, startling himself. "She can just talk about nonsensical things and I'll listen. She makes me laugh. I feel like she knows me sometimes…you know, maybe because I knew her in Hogwarts. But I used to just see her as my Chaser. Just that girl who scores points for Gryffindor. But lately, I've been seeing more of her lately. She's smart. Whenever I see her--" He paused. "--this sounds terribly…cheesy and I might be a bloody wanker for saying this but--whenever I see her, she literally…she really does make me breathless." He winced at the words tumbling out his mouth. "My stomach does this flip when I see her. She's pretty."

A scoff escaped Joscelind's lips, but she waved her hand impatiently as he stopped. "And…I don't know. It just made me so angry to see her with Gimpsky."

Joscelind's smile, if possible, widened even more, her eyes sparkling and wrinkles forming round her mouth. "You fancy her, Oliver," she said quite seriously, despite the smile on her lips. "Isn't it obvious?"

Oliver did not protest because a sickening realization crashed down upon him. "And she was right underneath my nose," he voiced the thought running through his head with a trace of bitterness.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, eh?" Joscelind said waggling her brows. "I mean, seeing her out of the blue…all the time. And now Gimpsky dating her. Oh, Oliver." Her smile faded from her face.

They finished their drinks in silence and began to part ways. Oliver placed his aviators on his face and turned to Joscelind, who smiled at him. "'Till next time?"

"Yeah," Oliver said.

He listened to the crack behind him, staring at the spot where Joscelind Wadcock disappeared. He wandered toward Quality Quidditch Supplies, his thoughts muddled in his mind. An ironic smile crossed his face as he mulled over everything. He glanced at the small crowd huddled around the glass, the small boys pressing their noses on the window to peer at the display of official Puddlemere United robes. He smiled slightly to himself as he walked into the comforts of the store. The bell jingled happily as he pushed open the door.

"Hi, can I help you?"

The familiar witch beamed up at him, clutching a large box of gloves. Her eyes fell on his face, her brows knitting above her nose. "No, just looking today," he said quickly, walking quickly into an aisle, pulling off his aviators in the safe, secluded aisle. He glanced at a shiny wooden chest, opened to display the red Quaffle inside. He picked up an issue of Which Broomstick carefully, flipping through its pages in deep interest.

"Wood!" A loud booming voice brought him out of his reverie. He jerked his head toward Gimpsky, a large grin on his face. He frowned slightly as the burly figure bounded up to him, controlling the anger threatening to well up inside him.

"Hi," he said stiffly, putting the magazine back on the rack reluctantly.

"'Course, you would be here," Gimpsky said beaming brightly.

"Talk with me, will you?" he said suddenly.

"Where?" Gimpsky looked puzzled as Oliver weaved through the aisles, spotting a closet in the far corner of the room. "Oh, damn. Not another one--" Oliver dragged him into the closet, closing the door shut behind them.

It was dark and musty. He blindly groped into his pocket and extracted his wand. "Lumos," he murmured to the tip. A burst of light emitted from the tip, illuminating their faces. Gimpsky stared at him with amusement. "Alright. I need to tell you something." He swallowed, feeling the cold sweat on his forehead. He perched on a wooden crate, staring at the old, battered broomsticks leaning against the wall. Gimpsky followed suit, the crate creaking ominously as he sat on it.

"I think I like Katie…no, fancy her," he blurted out immediately.

He peered up at Gimpsky, expecting him to jump up and tell him that he was a bloody wanker. However, he was quite astonished to see Gimpsky burst out into a relieved grin. "Oh, Merlin!" he said laughing loudly.
"What?" Oliver said stunned. "Why are you laughing?" He nearly dropped his wand, but tightened his grip around it.

"Took you a while, didn't you?" Gimpsky said his laughter subsiding.

"What do you mean?" Oliver asked, terribly confused.

"Oh, Oliver," Gimpsky said shaking his head soberly. "You see--"

The door swung open, revealing the overly excited witch, her black locks falling down her shoulder. Her eyes widened at the sight of them, perched on the crates and staring up at her with flushed faces. "O-Oliver Wood and Jonathan Gimpsky!" she said excitedly. "Oh…wow, what are you doing in here? Can I have…" She was brimming with excitement as she dug hurriedly into her robes to extract a spare piece of parchment and a quill.

Oliver stared curiously at Gimpsky, wondering what he was going to say as he scribbled absentmindedly across the parchment, handing it back to the witch.

"Now I have two autographs from Oliver Wood! And one from Jonathan Gimpsky. Oh wow…"

A/N: Short. So to make it clearer if I didn't make it clear enough, Ollie did NOT realize he liked Katie the last chapter--instead, he realized Prudence was everything on his list. I tried to make Oliver as…well, masculine as possible, but sharing his feelings with Joscelind is like a little ritual they have because Joscelind is understanding and doesn't tease him much about things.

Hopefully, this was a good chapter. It was shorter than usual, I know.

Thanks to:

Me (Thanks, I'm quite flattered), MoonShine Fairy (Yeah, Quidditch matches are hard. I had to pull out my Quidditch Throughout the Ages and HP-Lexicon…that site is everything Harry Potter. Crazy), readswim04 (sorry, I hate being left hanging but then again, I love writing cliffhangers haha. Adds to the suspense), Meshugenah (oh, look at you speculating. What is Gimpsky going to tell Ollie? I think you're on the right track hehe), Ghostwriter626 (nope, but he did realize that later on), amazoness (haha), Celi, Ara7, imakeeper (seriously? As dramatic as Laguna Beach? Haha), Hey There Delilah (Haha toilet paper. I love Ollie too), mind on sleave (quick enough of an update for you? Haha), TooSweet4Words, zoechandler (3 in the morning? Now I'm really flattered!), MiSs WeStHoFf HeRsElF (yes, he realized he was gay. Haha. I loved your guesses), and sweet-sternchen (Thank you! I think your English is really good actually. I'm hopeless with other languages).