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 Seven:
Conspiracies Revealed
"Oliver, are you feeling ill?" He jerked out of his reverie, staring down at his hand clutching the silver spoon that was clanking feverishly in his steaming teacup. He stared down at the pink confetti floating in the murky depths of his tea, furrowing his brows. He raked a hand through his windswept, brown locks, shaking off the confetti that had settled among his tangled locks. Oliver glanced at the apprehensive face peering at him, her large, sapphire eyes sparkling with worry. He jumped slightly at the warmth brushing against his arm. He glanced down at her calloused hand cupped on his arm.
"Sorry," Prudence Wilson murmured, patches of pink on her cheeks. "I was just…you've been staring at nothing for a while now. Don't you like it here?" She gestured about the cramped, lurid tea shop. Oliver stared at her face; she seemed mediocre and plain compared to Katie.
"Yes," he lied. Madam Puddifoot's was less than charming with its tawdry, garish pink and the cherubs floating above their heads, throwing fistfuls of confetti down upon them. As another shower of confetti flew over their tea, he brushed down his robes as he climbed to his feet. "Listen, Prudence. Honestly, I…I've been thinking about someone else. I'm sorry." He accidentally bumped his leg on the table beside theirs, disrupting a couple, glued permanently to the lips. The witch shrieked as her cold cup of tea jumped into her lap.
To his surprise, Prudence did not throw her tea on his robes. She calmly climbed to her feet, brushing the confetti off her jeans with a sad, knowing smile twisted on her face. "It's that Katie girl, isn't it? I saw at the party," she said. "You only came here because you wanted to tell me that?"
Dumbfounded, Oliver nodded. He opened his mouth to speak--"You!" He turned round to stare at the livid witch, glowering at him. Her tasteless, white skirt was stained with brown tea. "You get tea on my skirt and you don't so much as apologize! Who do you think you are? The Minister?" She poked her plump finger into his chest painfully, her hand gripped tightly around her wand. Her loud screeches pierced his ears; he winced, staring at the couples tearing apart from the lips to stare at the commotion. Madam Puddifoot, herself, came hurrying over, her large hips smashing into the cramped tables, sending tea kettles and coffee pouring across the pink tablecloth.
Prudence grabbed hold of the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him out of the tea shop quickly. He stumbled out into the streets of Hogsmeade, walking quickly as Prudence dragged him down the path, far from the tea shop and the furious witch. "I thought that woman was going to murder you!" she gasped, her eyes large.
"You seem to be taking this rather well," Oliver said honestly.
"Well," she said her tone brisk, "you seemed preoccupied during the party. I knew you were jealous. I'm quite a good sport, aren't I? Quidditch has taught me that. Besides, we haven't even snogged yet." Her eyes twinkled as she said this, watching his face turn red.
"W-well," he sputtered.
She laughed, her laughter loud and raucous, reminding him of Gimpsky's laugh. At the thought of Jonathan Gimpsky, he wondered what he was going to tell him in the closet yesterday. After being harassed by the witch, Gimpsky disappeared before Oliver could resume the conversation. "Have you snogged that other girl?"
He flushed. "I take that as a no!" she giggled.
"Well, I didn't really realize I actually…fancied her. The realization sunk in yesterday," he said shaking his head.
"Men are thick," Prudence said smartly, ignoring the look he shot her. "Well, good--an owl." He furrowed his brows at her; she lifted up her hand, pointing at something behind him. He turned around, staring at the familiar, barn owl bobbing in the air with a messily, folded piece of parchment clamped in its beak.
"Gimpsky," he said simply, taking the letter from the owl. "Thanks, Bowman," he added the owl.
"Bowman?" Prudence asked as Oliver unfolded the crinkled parchment hurriedly.
"Yeah, named after the guy who invented the Snitch," he said absentmindedly, his eyes glued on the parchment.
"I'll just leave you to it then, Oliver," Prudence said formally, sticking out a hand. He shook her calloused hand vaguely, turning back to the letter with a burning curiosity.
Hello, mate,
Considering you like to drag me into closets to talk (by the way, you're lucky that witch was thick enough not to realize what it means when two grown men are in a closet together), I decided to just write you a letter to tell you. I also didn't know how you were going to react because I don't want you to strangle me as well. I'm much too pretty to be die that way. Well, Wood, you're thick, but let's start back to the beginning, shall we?
Well, think back to the Witch Weekly article. Remember when I said that that Katie Bell was a looker (which she is) and you got all mad? And the look on your face when she sat down with us…and when you two talked. It was so obvious. And your face when she kissed your cheek! That's when I smartly realized you must fancy her or something. Maybe you didn't realize it. I visited her with the list and she was everything on it (I snuck the list back into your pocket during practice. Sneaky, eh?). She said you two have been bumping into each other for a while now and maybe she fancies you a little…and I told her I think you fancied her too. Except you're too much of a thick git to really get it so I decided to get you to realize it. 'Course, the Quidditch match was coming up and all so I decided to take her as my date so you'd be spitting jealous. And you were. But then Prudence came into the picture. I knew you fancied Kates though because you kept staring at her. Oh, Woody, isn't it so obvious?
I knew you so well that I knew you'd come running to Joscelind for girl talk over tea and cookies. It's so cute that you share your feelings, Woody. I've know this for a while now because Wadcock can't keep a secret. But don't worry, I don't know what you guys talk about so it's not really that bad. I told her about Katie. And as planned, she got you to realize you fancied Kates. So really, the past few days was a conspiracy. Aw, Woody, it was really my necessary duty as a friend to get involved with your love life. Just as well because you were starting to scare me. I knew you were desperate, but really…
You're are grown up now, Ickle Woodykins. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. If it doesn't work out with you and Katie, we can always meet in a closet and profess our love for each other.
--Jonathan
Oliver rolled his eyes, folding the letter carefully, struggling to ignore the waves of shock crashing down on him. He should've known. "Prat," he muttered underneath his breath, tucking the letter in his pocket. But he couldn't wipe the smile that was widening across his face as he strode down the path in jaunty steps. He didn't even mind when a witch bumped into him, carrying a Mimbulus mimbletonia in her arms, and splattered him with something particularly stinky.
"May I interest you in some potions?"
Oliver jumped, staring down at the leering, mossy teeth and the gleaming eyes staring at him. His tattered robes fluttered around his thin frame as he circled Oliver, holding up glass bottles filled with murky, sludgy potion. The old wizard's warm breath washed over his face, the strong scent of firewhiskey hovering underneath his nose. He stumbled backward, hitching up a small smile on his face as he stared at the wizard, horrified.
"No, I'm fine," he said.
"But sir, it has rare dragon blood and protects you from--"
"No," he said firmly, turning around and walking purposely down the streets of Diagon Alley. His jeans had the faint scent of something putrid from the plant, and the smile he wore hours before slid off his face to make room for a deep frown. He had no idea where Katie Bell was; it seemed ironic that when he was not looking for her, she appeared out of the blue. Now, looking for her, she seemed impossible to find. He checked the Leaky Cauldron and the Quality Quidditch Supplies store, avoiding the fanatic witch by placing his aviators on his nose and ducking his head down. He began walking toward the Daily Prophet building, almost surpassing the height of Gringott's.
Oliver hurried down the street, pushing past the crowds of witches and wizards, reaching the building. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and strode through the glass doors, placing his sunglasses carefully on the top of his tangled, messy hair. A rather bored witch looked up at him from her desk, large letters on the blank wall behind her scrawling the words Daily Prophet. Her expression quickly changed, her eyes widening in shock and recognition. He inwardly groaned as he approached the desk, folding his arms across his chest and flashing the witch a small smile.
"Hi, how may I help you, Mr. Wood?" she asked in a rather shrill voice.
"Is Katie Bell working here today?" Her eyes widened to the size of plates; he did not doubt she had read the Witch Weekly article.
"She just left," the witch said slowly, her face stunned.
"Where'd she go?" Oliver asked impatiently.
"Home, I think," the witch said her wide eyes staring at him.
Oliver waved absentmindedly at her, striding through the glass doors. He stopped in the middle of the crowds; he didn't know where Katie Bell lived. He whirled around and strode back through the doors, the witch jerking up from a Witch Weekly to stare at him in utter disbelief and surprise. "Where does she live?"
She dived quickly underneath her desk, papers rustling as she withdrew a folder and opened it, revealing a smiling picture of Katie. His stomach lurched at the sight of her sparkling, dark eyes and her pretty face. Papers fell on the picture as the witch flipped through the folder, extracting out a single piece of yellowing parchment with a flourish. "The…Bodmin flats in London," she read from the paper. "Just around the corner…" But she never finished her sentence because Oliver's jittery legs carried him out the door and through the crowds quickly. The witch was right about the flats; as he turned the corner sharply, he stared up at the row of flats before him, painted a creamy white and adorned with black shutters. A particularly, gnarled oak tree cast shadows across the front entrance of the flats, a shadowed, glass door. He jogged up the stairs, his fingers brushing lightly against the curved railings. He tried the handle, groaning loudly as he jingled the locked door. "Do you live here, sir?"
He nearly fell down the stairs at the sound of the squeaky voice; instead, he stumbled and fell on his back, staring up at the house elf emerging from the shadows, its large blue eyes staring at him as it sunk down into a deep bow, its nose brushing against the ground.
"No," he said flushing, climbing to his feet. His buttocks would never be the same. "I'm looking for Katie Bell?"
"Sorry, sir. Ms. Bell is not home," the house elf squeaked, shaking its head grimly, its ears flapping wildly and hitting its long, slender nose.
"Oh," he said a tinge of disappointment in his voice. "Alright." He walked down the steps, irritated. He tipped his head up to the blue skies, the sun smiling down on his head. "Hilarious," he told the heavens. "Just peachy."
"Why are you talking to the sky?"
"Have you finally gone mental, Oliver?"
He jerked his head down to stare at the two, identical twins before him, their grins wide across their freckled faces and their red hair glowing brightly in the sun. Their fuchsia robes clashed horribly with their hair. "Fred? George?" he said incredulously. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, Ollie. We're here to visit our dear friend, Katie," one of the twins said. Oliver suspected it was George.
"George?"
"No, Fred!" the twin said affronted.
"Sorry," Oliver said quickly. "So, Fred--"
"Just playing with you, Oliver. It's George," George said chuckling. Oliver rolled his eyes.
"Katie's not home," he informed him.
"Just kidding, it's really Fred," Fred said. Oliver was having a headache; his fingers flew to his temples.
"So who is who?" he said with a large bite of impatience in his voice.
"You dolt." The twin (whoever he was) pointed at his chest, a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes pin shining on his robes with his name engraved on it.
"Fred," Oliver read. He turned to George. "George."
"Katie's not home, eh? Coming to visit her?" Fred said slyly.
"Yeah," Oliver said flushing slightly.
Fred and George exchanged knowing looks and went to either side of Oliver, slinging their arms around his shoulders and steering him down the street. "Katie's been talking about you lately, mate," Fred said with a grin.
"Wondering when you would realize you fancy her," George said nodding.
"Poor dear," Fred said shaking his head.
"Been crying her eyes out for a while now," George said clicking his tongue.
"Really?" Oliver stammered.
"Do you fancy her?" Fred said with a large, sly grin.
"I-I-" He turned red. "Yeah," he murmured quietly. Fred and George exchanged grins from across Oliver's shoulders.
"Aw, Oliver. Have you come to proclaim your love for her?" Fred said.
"Do you need to buy one of our love potions?" George added.
"No!" Oliver said irritated. "I do not need--"
"Well, do you need help finding Katie?" George asked kindly.
"It's Wednesday, isn't it, George?" Fred asked his twin, who nodded. "She'd be at the Three Broomsticks with Madam Rosmerta."
Oliver's eyes widened. "Oh! She did tell me that," he said trying to disentangle himself from the twins. "It's nice seeing you, but I guess I'll be off--"
"We're going with you," the twins said in unison.
"Great."
It was, indeed, great. They arrived outside of the pub, standing in the streets of the darkening Hogsmeade as Fred and George dug a comb through his hair and sprayed him with some strong cologne. He choked as George stuffed the bottle back into his pocket with a large grin. "And of course, flowers," Fred said conjuring up a bouquet of bright, red roses. He shoved them in Oliver's hand. "And a speech, of course."
Oliver was irritated. "I'm not proposing to her or anything--"
"Go get her!" Fred interrupted him, pushing him into the door. He smashed into the door, his head throbbing painfully.
"Fred, you have to open the door first!" George chided his twin as his hand pressed against the door and pushed it open. They pushed him into the pub, earning a few curious looks from the patrons. He caught a head of dark waves sitting at the bar with Madam Rosmerta, chattering incessantly with Katie. The woman suddenly nudged Katie, pointing at him. She turned around, staring at him with large eyes. She smiled and waved.
"Go on, prat!" Fred hissed into his ear, pushing him forward. He stumbled toward the bar, the roses crushed underneath his arm.
"Hi, Katie," he said his cheeks burning.
"Hi, Oliver," she said with a large grin. "What brings you here?" Her tone was innocent, but she exchanged a knowing look with a giggling Madam Rosmerta.
"Here," Oliver said shoving the roses into her hands. She smiled.
"Thanks," she said sniffing the roses. "Arggh!"
"Katie!" Oliver darted forward. She was doused in a sticky substance, her fuchsia robes dripping and the Daily Prophet pin no longer gleaming.
"It…it…" She wiped it from her face. Oliver whirled around, glaring at the chuckling twins.
"You!"
"New product," Fred said with a grin. "Had to try it out, Ollie. No hard feelings, Katie," he added to the dripping Katie.
"Fred," she growled irritably. "Scourgify," she murmured to herself, the slime disappearing from her robes and face. She looked as pretty as ever.
"Sorry, Katie," Oliver said his face glowing.
"Well, it was a nice gesture," Katie said, coughing slightly. "What is that smell?" She leaned over and sniffed Oliver.
"It's really…strong," she said wafting away the smell. Oliver coughed.
"It was them," he said venomously, turning to the twins. They smiled innocently.
"So, what'd you come here to tell me?" Katie said leaning backward from Oliver considerably, sipping her butterbeer.
"I-I…" He felt suddenly warm with all the eyes watching him. "I just wanted to tell you that…I think…I think I fancy you." He gulped. "And without sounding too terribly cheesy, you really…you're everything I expected in a woman. You like Quidditch, you don't call yourself Katie Wood ("Not yet," Fred muttered in George's ear behind him)…you don't pour tea on me. You kissed me on the cheek…and my cheek wouldn't stop tingling." He cleared his throat, his face quite red.
"I like you, Katie Bell," he concluded finally. "And I'd like to…date you, if that's alright." He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, his eyes staring earnestly into Katie's impassive face.
"Well, if that's the best you can do," Fred huffed. Oliver smacked him.
"Oh, and I'm sorry I've been a git," Oliver continued. "And that you've cried over me." A puzzled look crossed Katie's face.
"Cried?"
"That's what…they told me," Oliver said realizing the twins had lied. "Gits," he snapped at them.
"Well, Oliver," Katie said. He turned back to her. "Jonathan would be happy. He's been waiting for the day when you stopped this quest of yours…so--yes."
His heart soared; he felt like he had just won a Quidditch game. He wanted to scream and yell, but he contained his excitement with a large grin. And suddenly, he realized his life was completed. The restless feeling lingering in his mind faded away as he beamed down at Katie Bell.
"I would kiss you, Oliver," Katie said apologetically. "But your cologne smells awful." Fred and George snorted.
A/N: That's the end! The wonderful, wonderful end. Was it dumb? Unsatisfying? Disappointing? I'm sorry, I didn't have any other wonderful ideas! Tell me if it was rather disappointing. There will be an epilogue after this so it really isn't the end…
Thanks to all my faithful and lovely reviewers! I love you all.
Thanks to Ande Lawerence (I didn't thank you before because you reviewed for Chapter Two so I left you out. Sorry! I love your story and I love oversized sunglasses too!) , Ashley, Meshugenah (Now you know what all happened. Hope it is satisfying and not disappointing. Joscelind doesn't like Oliver. Hehe. She's like his older, wise sister), readswim04, MoonShine Fairy, Ghostwriter626 (if you don't remember from Chapter One, which you probably don't cause I barely remember myself, the witch saw him then and asked for his autograph), Celi (cute and stupid, a good combo hehe), sweet-sternchen (yeah, that fan and closet thing was really a spur of the moment thing), TooSweet4Words (yup, came to his senses alright!), The Marauders and Lily, amazoness (I was just waiting for that regal pose to write this! Hehe), MiSs WeStHoFf HeRsElF (I would be too. Closets? Two men? Luckily, that fan was an idiot), Lady Arre (thanks for both reviews for Chapter Five and Six! Glad I made you laugh. Hehe. I love closets for talking), imakeeper, and xprettyoux.
There will be an epilogue! Stay tuned my lovelies! Tell me if this chapter was horrible, honestly. Give me your opinions and praise (or insults)!