Whoo! I'm back and thirteen years old! Woot! Here's eighteen!

Chapter Eighteen

Word seemed to go around that Christina and I were dating. No big deal, really, except everyone would be whispering and the such. A bunch of Slytherins say she's sleeping with me to get better grades, even though she is the highest ranking student in the school. Snape hasn't talked to me since he found out, much to my liking. Hate the git.

"Get off," I muttered.

"No!" Christina said cheerfully.

"Get off before I fail you."

"...You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would." Reluctantly, Christina rolled off of me and onto the floor of the Common Room. I sat up on the couch and rubbed my back, which was still a little sore, even though the whole Dementor incident happened two weeks ago.

"You suck, Oliver."

"I do not! Jake, do I suck?"

"Yeah," Jake replied, the lousy moron. I rolled my eyes and looked around the Common Room.

"Oliver?" Chris asked.

"Yup?"

"I've been meaning to ask you. Why were there Dementors a couple weeks ago?" I grew silent. We weren't allowed to tell her. "Oliver?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe they were Rogues." Christina scoffed.

"Hardly. Dementors are loyal guards of the Wizarding prison Azkaban."

"Someone's been doing their research," I said with a smile. She crossed her arms.

"Come on, tell me."

"I seriously don't know, Chris." Christina pouted. She looks extremely cute when she pouts. God, I hate that look. "I'm serious! I don't know!" And we left it at that. She knew not to push it any further.

"Well... let's go down to dinner, then." I nodded my head and helped her off the floor. We went off to the Great Hall together, hand-in-hand, recieving the usual stares and glares (Glares to me from the guys, glares to Christina from the girls and the stares from teachers). We sat down at the Gryffindor table, greeting Harry, Ron and Hermione. Tristan already left.

"Ha oo doin', Wood?" Ron asked with potatoes flying out of his mouth and onto Harry.

"I'm fine," I replied through fits of laughter. We talked... talked some more... then the Slytherins came.

"Chris, can I talk to you?"

"You have some nerve coming up here, Zambini," I said calmly. (It has been brought to my attention that I've been spelling his last name wrong. I'm going to keep spelling it like this, however.)

"...In private?" he continued, keeping his eyes on me. I clasped Christina's hand tightly, not wanting to let go. She gently touched my shoulder, silently asking me permission. I cast a look of hate at Blaise and slowly released my grip. I watched as the Slytherins returned to their table and Blaise and Christina walked out of the Great Hall.

"She'll be fine, Wood," Harry said. I sighed and rested my head on the table.

Ten minutes later, they still didn't come back. Getting worried, I stood up and ran out of the Great Hall.

"CHRIS!" I yelled, desperately trying to find her.

"Think about what I said." Zambini. I ran faster down the corridors, past Firenze's Divination room and around the corner. Christina was standing their, looking at her ex's retreating back.

"Chris, are you okay? Did he do anything? Did he hurt you?" I asked in one breath, quickly scanning her for any type of injury. She touched her lips timidly. I grew tense. "Did he kiss you?" She slowly nodded her head; her eyes still not wavering out of position. "Say... say something, Chris... did you...like it?"

"I..." She grew silent. I ran a hand through my hair and briskly walked away from her. She liked it. She liked the fucking kiss he gave her. What if she was using me? Two days. That's all it took for her to get with me. Oh, God.

"FLINT!" I burst into the Slytherin Common Room. "FLINT, FLINT, FLINT, FLINT! MARCUS YOU DIPSHIT WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Oliver, what's wrong?" Marcus ran up the stairs.

"Sorry to be so feminine, but I'm totally freaking out."

"...This is about Chris, isn't it? Okay, let's take a walk outside in the grounds."

When we got back, Christina was lying down on the couch. Marcus raised an eyebrow at a bottle near here. Rum.

"Oh, shit," I said and walked to her side. I felt her forehead, checked her breathing, smelt her breath and coughed.

"Who the fuck gives a fifteen-year-old a whole bottle of rum?" Marcus grunted with a hint of anger in his voice. I don't blame him, he and Christina are like brother and sister.

"Well, why don't we just do a DNA test?" I asked sarcastically. "Check for fingerprints!"

"...Wood, you have been watching way too many CSI episodes. Damn Muggle televisions."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. Help me get her to her room and I can... you can ask her about it tomorrow. I'm still not talking to her until she gives me a proper explanation."

"When do you think she's going to wake up?" We stayed up there for about an hour, just watching her sleep. I shrugged and sighed outwardly. Marcus leaned back on a chair, still watching Christina. "I bet you it was Zambini."

"Why would you say that?" I asked. Marcus bent over foreward and cupped his mouth with his hands.

"He and his friends've been talking about Christina the past couple days. I should have told you." I glanced and Marcus, then riveted my eyes back to Christina.

"Zambini is dangerous, Flint. The whole family is."

"Do you think I don't know that, Oliver? He's in my bloody house. His room is right next to mine. I hear every word he and his buddies say."

"Do a good friend a favor, would you? Eavesdrop on them for me. Please."

"Yeah, of course. I care for Chris just as much as you do, Oliver."

"Whew, having a friend with Slytherin is awesome."

"Mm."