(PoA) CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Party Girl
"I want to throw a party," Ellie told Oliver after practice as they walked back to the castle.
"A party," he repeated skeptically. "You."
"Yeah, and not one of those G-rated dorm parties we throw in the common room when we win a game. A real party."
He looked amused. His arm was resting comfortably around his shoulder, like it so often was. "Okay. Any thoughts on where we'd be hosting said party?"
"Actually, yeah. Have you heard of the Room of Requirement?"
"Heard of, sure." He came to a stop, eyes widening. "You don't mean to say you've found it?"
"Actually, Dean Thomas found it. But he told me all about it in my first year here. If I opened it up with the 'requirement' that it was the ultimate party venue…"
"…then we wouldn't even have to make the preparations," he finished for her, grinning. "I like it. Only… who do we invite?"
"Whoever we want. But, more importantly, we can not invite whoever we want."
Two hours later, the party was in full swing.
Ellie had been selective about the invite list, though not altogether exclusive. Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't make the cut, but Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati did; Fred and George obviously didn't make the cut, but Angelina, Katie, Neville, and Ginny did.
And, of course, a dozen or more of Oliver's friends were there.
"I don't get it," Oliver said from her side as he watched her pseudo-sister and her "musical guru" enter the party. "Neville Longbottom?"
"I like him," she said firmly, taking a long swig of Firewhisky. She'd had quite a bit already. "So you have to be nice to him."
"Oh, really?" he asked, moving to stand in front of her at that. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Or what?"
Despite having "dated" for over a month by then, Ellie and Oliver had, for the most part, been more for show than for real. He was quick to act like her boyfriend in public, but more hesitant to make moves on her when they were alone. He knew she was still hurting, and he was trying to be patient. She appreciated it more than he knew.
But she couldn't keep sulking about Fred forever. She had a perfectly good boy right in front of her—one she should take advantage of while she still could.
So she kissed him.
Kissing Oliver now wasn't all that different than it had been when she was a first year, with one, significant difference: it wasn't her first kiss anymore, and it didn't scare her.
It wasn't like kissing Fred—magical, exhilarating, and life-changing. It wasn't like kissing Harry, either—warm, safe, and comfortable. But it was fun—and that was exactly what she needed.
By the time the last of their guests trickled out, Ellie had ingested another two glasses of Firewhisky and was starting to feel quite dizzy.
"Easy there, party girl," Oliver said with a chuckle when she stumbled back toward the long, black, leather sofa from seeing out Ginny and Neville. "I probably shouldn't have let you drink so much."
"Nonsense." She grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him down with her onto the couch and kissing him. Fun, she thought as she wrapped her legs around him. Fun. This is fun.
And it was fun—save for the part where, no matter how hard she tried to stay in the moment, she still saw Fred every time she closed her eyes.
And every time she felt lips on hers…
"Hey," Oliver said softly, pulling away from her. "We should probably put some ice on it, huh?"
"No," she said, keeping her legs firmly wrapped around him. "Who are you and what have you done with Oliver Wood?"
"Who are you and what have you done with Ellie Prince?" he countered, eyes glinting with playful amusement. "Should I take it as an insult that you're only this into me when you've had too much to drink?"
She laughed, but she felt a pang of guilt. "That's not true. I've always been into you. I've just been…"
"Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand dismissively, then sat up so that he was no longer on top of her. Still, he stretched an easy arm out across the seat for her, and she gladly curled up onto his chest. "Let's just get some sleep, party girl. There's still plenty of time for the rest."
Ellie woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a gurgling stomach, the latter of which she had to sprint to the washroom to take care of. Oliver showed up only a minute later to hold her hair back, but he wasn't doing significantly better than her. They hobbled back to the Gryffindor Tower together, where they split up to get showered and changed. As soon as Ellie emerged from the shower, though, she was accosted with questions from Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati.
"That was so much fun last night!" Lavender squealed as Ellie fished through her dresser for something to wear to practice. Lavender had basically adopted a "what's mine is yours" policy with Ellie as of late, but Lavender's wardrobe wasn't exactly practical for sports. "When are we doing it again?"
"Count me out," said Ginny. "Thanks for inviting me and Neville, but it wasn't exactly our scene. How late did you stay there, anyway?"
"And did Oliver stay with you?" added Parvati.
Ellie had half a mind to vomit all over all three of them. "Too many questions," she grumbled as she stepped into a pair of leggings and a fleece-lined shirt. She pulled a hoodie on over the shirt—it was still February, after all—threw her hair into a messy ponytail, and added, "There will be more parties."
Lavender and Parvati beamed as she headed back downstairs.
Oliver was waiting for her in the common room, pressing his fingers against his temples in what appeared to be a feeble attempt to get rid of his own headache. Together, they headed for the Great Hall for a quick breakfast, where Ellie wasn't able to take more than a few nibbles without fearing it coming back up.
"Remind me," Oliver said as they rose from their table and headed out to the Quidditch field. "Why did you feel the need to have that party the night before practice?"
"Remind me why you felt the need to have practice on a Sunday morning," she grumbled back. "I thought it would help get me in the zone again, is all."
"Right. The zone."
They were the last ones to the pitch. Angelina and Katie, despite having attended the party the night before, didn't look any worse for the wear. Harry, Fred, and George, who hadn't been invited, all eyed Ellie and Oliver with judgmental faces as they approached.
"Looks like you two had a late night," said Katie with a devilish grin.
Harry and Fred both cringed at that. Ellie just hung her head and tried to pretend she was somewhere else.
"Same deal as yesterday," said Oliver, not indulging Katie with a response. "I'll throw in."
They obediently got to their places and started to practice, but it wasn't pretty. Despite Ellie's assurances that she'd be "back to normal," she was anything but. Being airborne while nauseous wasn't a good combo, and the wind whipping through her ears didn't do much for her headache. But surrendering meant admitting she'd made a mistake, and she refused to believe that her actions the night before had been a mistake—not when they were just about all she had left. So she forced herself to get through the entire forty minutes of practice before Oliver blew his whistle and gathered them back up at the ground.
"Forty minutes," said Angelina, glancing at her watch. "Little short in your book, isn't it, Oliver?"
"Can we cut the crap here?" asked George hotly. "We all know why practice was cut short."
"Easy, Weasley," warned Oliver. "Everyone's entitled to a few mistakes. You'll be fine for the next one, right, Ellie?"
"I don't think anyone was blaming Ellie," snapped Harry surprisingly hotly. "Do you really us to believe whatever happened last night was her idea?"
"Actually, it was her idea. Just ask her."
But no one seemed interested in asking Ellie anything. "You're her boyfriend now," said George. "You should be taking care of her, not encouraging her to drink and party."
"And what about her best friends?" Oliver fired back. "Should they not be helping her get through a rough patch like this? Oh, wait—they're the reason for it."
Fred made a move toward Oliver at that, which George quickly restrained. Harry parted his lips to say something, but Ellie stopped him. She'd had more than enough.
"The party was my idea, so stop blaming Oliver. He did take care of me last night, but it's no one's job to do so—boyfriend or not. And I'm sorry to all of you for playing like shit today, but frankly, the rest of it is none of your goddamned business."
I know the whole party-in-the-room-of-requirement thing is a TAD silly, but who doesn't want a little splash of good, old fashioned teen drama with their Harry Potter fanfic, amiright? Tune back in soon for "The Two Firebolts," and don't forget to review!
