"Bring your own beverage"
Oliver Wood has changed. He is no longer the sweet innocent Scottie that we all grew to love. Here, Oliver has faced more than one hardships. Watch him as he struggles loosing battles with his mother, his best mate and the love of his life. Will anyone be able to help him? Warning for use of drugs, mild swearing and adult content.
Disclaimer: The idea of the main characters parents were a creation of Hovizi and Oliver Wood, Katie Bell and all other Harry Potter characters and plots belong to J.K. Rowling and unfortunately… not me. Although, it would be nice, dammit.
A/N: SORRY IT'S SOOO LATE! AHH! I tried to make it extra long for you! But ya, suggestions for next chapter are welcome. B/C this is Katie's POV so should 24 be hers again?
You are aloud to hate me. I'm
sorry this is so late. I love you all for sticking with me! Thanks!
:D
I love... Mumma. And yo momma.
So... what's happenin? Last chapter! Snippet from the end:
"As soon as I was about to succumb to the pain and fade to black, it stopped again. It was déjà vu and it was relaxing. This time, I laid there, unable to physically push myself up. My muscles throbbed and ached and my hangover had come early this year.
"The pain subsided and the noise around me thundered back in quickly, rushing into my eardrums like water back into the sea. The smell burnt the hail in my nose like acid and it felt as if the air around me was heating up at a rapid degree. My breathing was scarce and I was confused, lost for once in my lost.
"At this point, I almost
lost it."
Katie's POV! It's gonna me a bit more angsty/more swearing! I should prob bump the rating.. haha jk. Anyway... Sorry about last chappie too, I know that that was sad.
So, I hope all's well in love and war. :D
1. A/N: this means that she's a little annoyed/pissed. This is how I get when I'm like that. I'm a little delirious, annoyed, and curse a lot LOL
Katie's POV
I looked down at my watch for what literally was the billionth time and sighed. All the bitches in hell shall receive my fucking wrath of death for thousands of shitty years, dammit. (A/N 1)
"Dammit, I'm outta here," I suddenly exclaimed. I received shocked expressions and some blank stares as I gathered my stuff and made out of the locker rooms. This was ridiculous. Oliver had called a meeting for us at 5:30 and the... bastard hadn't even bothered to show up. I sighed again.
I guess it wasn't just the fact that Oliver had never missed anything to do with Quidditch, ever, that worried me, especially if he had signed up for this meeting and threatened expulsion if we were absent, but perhaps that he had no reason not to be here. I had had a tutoring session and he said he would just be doing other stuff, although he did offer to come with me, and I figured that he would have played Quidditch or something. But this was unlike Oliver. Well, duh, but that's not the point.
"Wait, where are you going?" came a small voice from behind me.
Angelina was staring at me hard. She had been sick lately, just a little bit of the cold/flu thing that was going around. She had been more quiet and stern, but I didn't mind. I knew that she'd get over it lately. However, this was different. The way she was looking at me was something completel different. She didn't look sick, ragged and tired, like she had been lately, but instead held the look as if something was truly wrong--like something was out of place. It made me think.
"Away from here," I said shortly. I didn't feel like talking all that much. I was pissed. Oliver had decided to ditch for what? It wasn't just a blow on the team (which, although I wouldn't tell him sincerely, did really matter to me, unlike how he thinks that he is the only one that cares about the team) but it was a blow on me... a big one.
For some reason I felt like this was all my fault. I did something wrong. Should I have not gone to the study session? But, it was homework related and Oliver wouldn't want me to drop out and be kicked off the team. He insisted that I go to it! What was really killing me was what did he do while I was at the study session, because apparently that had cut into his oh-so-important fucking Quidditch meeting.
Suddenly, I realized that I was just standing there stupidly, lost in thought, as the other team members stared at me and considered their own options. Awkward a little...
I cleared my throat, "Well, I'm leaving. I don't know where the hell Oliver is.. and I'm not waiting any more for him. Thirty minutes late? Oliver isn't going to show up. This isn't like him. He must have just gotten tied up or something. I'm..." He has no real excuse of not being here. I think I should... "... going to look for him. Don't bother."
There. It was done and I was almost out the door when I felt someone come out behind me. It was Harry.
"I'll come with you, Katie," he said kindly. I frowned at him. When had the boy cared about anything outside of his friends and his life, which most certainly might end any second. What if it's with me... maybe he should stay here--
"We'll all come with you, Kates," Alicia said, following Harry with Angelina and soon the twins following her. "Team effort. He is our Cappie and if those fucking Slytherins took him or something, we'll all gonna whip their asses with their faces together."
She grinned devilisciously and I couldn't help but laugh at the wonderful mental image that had just popped into my mind. "Fine, together we're off. Lock it up, too, Lina."
The twins were the stragglers. It was apparent to everyone that they had somewhere else that they wanted to be. Well, they can go fu--
"Kates, do you know where he was going today? While you were at Potions?" Alicia said, delicately interrupting my thoughts. I shook my head. I wish I knew.
A red head popped into my vision. "Where shall we start, oh Mighty Expedition Leader, Captain Bell?" they saluted me. I threw him the bird and rolled my eyes. I think he took it seriously.
"Uh..." I muttered, thinking, "We should start with McGonagall or Dumbledore or something. It's not safe to just walk up to the Slytherin Common Room, or locker rooms, politely knocking, sticking our heads in and singing to them, 'Have you seen the dear little Olliekins, our Quidditch Captain? We've lost him! Silly us! Is he here? Hmm?'"
I laughed at my little joke as they kindly rejected it, the twins mock laughing (as in rolling on the floor, dieing with laughter... oh, they'll be dieing soon), Angelina rolling her eyes, and Alicia patting me on the shoulder, giving me condolences like, "It's okay, Katie. The medics will be here soon."
So, maybe it wasn't that funny... but it wasn't that bad! Jeez!
Right. I'm over it.
"So..." I said in an attempt to draw the humiliation away from me. "Where does Oliver usually hang out? The common room..."
"With us!" recited the twins, and then proceeding to do a funky little dance (which I shall repeat to no man) and high-five Angelina and Alicia.
"'Tards..." I muttered.
"Pardon?" growls Fred... playfully, I hope.
"Er, the library?" offered Alicia quickly, before Fred and George shredded me to pieces.
"Really? Well, maybe for Quidditch," Angelina thought aloud.
"She does have a point," I stated. "Kitchens? The Great Hall?"
"Er, Hagrid's? I dunno. I doubt he'll wander the yards, but it's a thought," offered Alicia.
"What about the Room of Requirement?" this was George.
We all stared at him for a while and frowned.
"Right, well, I think we should split up," I offered hastily. "Erm, some should go to the Room of Requirement--guys? And maybe, check those corridors, probably the Astronomy Tower and other rooms up there. Ange and Lich, you'll check the library and... the infirmary! Is McGonagall there too? Check her. Um, Harry and I'll go to the common room, Great Hall, kitchens and other random areas. How about we all meet back in the Common Room when we're done; try to go too late. Hit for an hour at the latest. Okay?"
"Sound good, Kates," replied the twins with gustow.
And we all were off, finally splitting at the Great Hall. Alicia and Angelina accompanied us on the rather tiresome and extremely short journey to the Great Hall, finding that there was some food in there and proceeding to "search for Oliver".
"To hell with it! I'm taking a pumpkin pastry!"
"Go Ange!" Alicia and I cheered on, watching out extremely hungry best friend nearly inhale a whole pumpkin pastry with as much dignity one who just swallowed a pumpking pastry can muster.
"Tag, you're it!"... Alicia? I glanced back, as they had walked a distance, quickly to watch them as they shoved each other into suits of armour and ending up rolling around ruthlessly on the stone floor. I chuckled softly when I hear Angelina exclaim that the suit of armour she was just pushed into was "a damn pervert!" Of course, if I had played I would have delcared "NO TAG BACKS!" as soon as I could... definitely before they shoved me into a perverted suit of armour.
Harry and I kept walking down to the kitchens. Behind us, there was a momentary lapse of silence before they were wriggling on the floor again. Well, they weren't going to find Oliver.
That was the last Harry and I heard after heading the opposite way. Strange. The witch was crazy, there was no doubt about that. Where had Alicia possessed this type of energy? I mean, Angie had an excussed, hence the pumpkin pastry, but I swear, Alicia is like her own time bomb.
After we tripped to the kitchens, Harry and I actually didn't have that many places to look, save for the common room, and simply resinged to checking random hallways and rooms. It was actually quite boring. I was trying to think of any games to play, kind of sharing Alicia's mind (i.e. entertaining us with cartwheels and failing handstands until Angelina's sugar-high kicked and insisted on us all singing, skipping through the halls and playing random games like "Find the Oliver! Bah!", as it always goes.)
Deep inside, however, a battle was raging. I was at a loss of what to do. It seemed that we'd have to wait until Oliver showed up on his own accord because I doubted that we'd find him any time soon. We'd end up camping in the common room waiting up all night until he showed up, from wherever he was, and interrogate him still he hexed us.
But something was off. I could feel it and not just the throbbing pain in my back from having to bend over a cauldron all day. Something like a woman's intuition had spurred in me a good while ago and, after the shock had worn over, I realized that Oliver was, or could possibly be, in danger. I wasn't sure of what or from whom, but I knew that something was off. All the evidence made it clear. And, seeing as I have nothing better to do, I'll make a list.
Evidence for Oliver's Disappearance:
Did I spell that right?
1. Oliver never, ever, EVER misses anything involved Quidditch, especially since he schedule the meeting (like always), had been repeatedly reminding us a month in advance, at least twice every day (until Alicia finally snapped and hit the poor soul), and wanders around muttering the plans for it like he was sleep-walking.
2. Apparently, there was some new play that he wanted to engrave in our head and had been trying to claim a spot for a strategies meeting for, well, months, which I didn't think would be that hard, but I guess those damn stretegy meetings are so demanding! Then again, McGonagall sure can be a bitch sometimes. So he probably was just too over-ecstatic about it the first 700 times he approached her and McGonagall, being the organized witch she is, would have told him to hold off it until the next day, during which Oliver could not stand and continued to berate the Headmistress, thus her being extremely, down-right pissed and delaying the meeting until she felt like, unbenownstedly killing a little bit of Oliver inside.
3.Oliver would have cancelled the meeting if something important came up -- which, according to him, there is nothing else more important to Quidditch and thus would not have cancelled it for anything -- and let us know, whether or not he could or not. Most likely by means of some poor little Gryffindor first year who happened to be walking past him at that moment. Even if the bloke (meaning Oliver... well, and the first year) had a fucking detention... with Snape -- you know, one of those four-hour doozies -- then Oliver would have rather been late. Even if he had been given the detention the moment it was (i.e. "You have a detention with me! Right now! Step on it, sucka!") the stupid wizard would have sprinted from the deathly grasp of the aforementioned Potions' Master, even including hexing, dodging and sliding if he may, to get out to human life (which is very far from the quarters of doom... which belong to that hooked-nosed geek) and tell someone or whatever.
4.Okay, so Oliver would have missed the detention for this meeting. He probably would have needed to move it someplace safer, like... ah, the Gryffindor Common Room. Ooh! And in the Girls' Dormitories too (Snape wouldn't dare...). And then come back like five hours later, begging the Potions' Master not to run to Wood's drill sergaent ("Please, sir, I got lost!") and thus lose thousands of points so that we may, indeed, gain them back by whooping Slytherin's ass. He always makes us do it the hard way.
5. Even if the boy did miss, he surely would have sent us notes and random babblings--
"OI!"
BAM!
It happened so fast that I had barely enough time to throw myself behind the large statue beside us. I could see Harry was against the opposite wall. However, seperating us was a giant, sphere like light that lit the length of the hallway until it hit a dead end. It was over before I knew what was going on and the hallway was too dark for this time of day. As I moved to peek around the statue, I noticed Harry removed his wand and I thought that that boy was the smartest person I had ever known.
Wand out, I timidly peered around the corner to address our attack, the blimey bastard. Who did he think he was? I guess I shouldn't have been so shocked when I saw that it happened to be a Slytherin, a rather crooked-teeth, massive-framed, bungy-haired troll: Marcus Flint.
He had a good group of cronies surrounding him, the damnable 7th year always was a coward at heart. Then again, it was the smart thing to do, so, dammit, I guess I was complementing the dickhead.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are, you little kitties! I know you're there!" his gruesome voice ringing through the stone hall.
"You little kitties?" I whispered, mockingly. Harry must have noticed because he was silently shaking with laughter from his hiding spot across from me.
I sighed. The arsehole had to always go and ruin things. Next thing you know, Voldemort will show up and, poor Harry, will have to defeat him again… wait—leaving me with Flint? NEVER!
Groaning (quietly) I quickly looked over to the amazing boy, questioning with my eyes, and a little mouthing, what the hell we should do. His eyes did some quick searching until he finally discovered what we were to do. With a nod of his head, he indicated that we, unfortunately, needed to move from our oh-so-comfortable positions. I rolled my eyes and prepared for the worst, mimicking the seeker as we both quickly jumped into the hallway, wands poised with a look of utmost hate and anger.
"What the bloody hell was that, Flint?" Harry growled.
… The boy can swear? When did this happen?
"None of your business, Potter," the gruesome, idiotic, self-infatuated, moron protested. "You mutts were in my way."
Like I said, the gruesome, idiotic, self-infatuated, moronic bast—
"None of our business?" Harry asked, resigning a little. "Alright, here, let me hex you. Whoops, I missed; don't worry about it."
"Do you have an animal fetish or something? Kitties, mutts… because I'm really sick of it. And besides, it sounds stupid," I exclaimed, finishing rather lamely.
He snorted. "Well, I'm glad I have your opinion, Bell."
I sneered back. "You should be honored," I said, growling.
He rolled his eyes. "I don't have this time to waste, talking to you, well, Gryffindors. And here I waste a perfectly deadly hex on the Gryffies most prize possessions." Waste... on Gryffindor's prize possessions? He thinks I'm a prize possession? Sweet! "Why don't you walk back to your little alcove and start shagging like everyone expects of the perfect little Potty."
…
What?
"Nice insults there, Flint, you really gave it to us," I said, glaring at the beast. "I mean, you couldn't have done any worse. And besides, isn't it you who has a new little pussy, play-mate every other hour? I'm surprised that you are actually out of the bedroom, or sewer system, whatever the hell you call that little hole down below the feet where I walk. You must be honored to be down there, essentially worshiping me."
He laughed. "Yeah, I love being under you."
My back tensed. "Bastard. You little piece of shit probably never been under, those poor sluts you ruin. Of course, you are very reputable… I'm surprised that your skanks aren't dead now," I retorted.
"Jealous, much?" he smirked and I was this close to wiping that smug look from his precious face. "Sounds like someone does know a lot about my reputation."
Bring it, bitch. "Yeah, us Gryffindors are actually smart… do you know what that is?"
"I know more than you could imagine, Bell. I'd watch your mouth." Smarmy little—
Returning that, I said, "Give me a mirror, then. It's much better than looking at whatever the hell I'm looking at now."
"Well, then you must be looking into a mirror," he was proud of that one.
I looked around. Uh… "You do realize that you just insulted yourself, right?" Pause…
I couldn't help it. It was just too tempting. That's right—I laughed right in Flint's ugly little face, laughing so hard that I almost pissed myself. Wow.
Five minutes later…
"Are you done?" No…
"Couldn't help it, Flinty. You're just so stupid," I said, chuckling. "I had to make sure I didn't pass that one up."
"Well, that's too bad, because it's the last time you'll ever do that again!" he raged, the fire burning in his eyes. I frowned, surely, he shouldn't be this pissed? Then again, I would be pissed too if one of my archenemies laughed a full five minutes directly in my face.
Okay. He can be pissed. I'll let it.
However, I played the game. I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Flint, just relax. Don't get so pissed. You would have laughed, so don't be such a hypocrite," I heard myself say harshly.
A sneering smile appeared on his smug little face. "Oh, but that's my job. Hypocrite, bastard, slimy git. That equals Marcus Flint," he said, voice gravelly. "I hex innocent Mudbloods in the hallways, shove little Firsties into the lake, knock Gryffie-wankers off their little brooms, poke fun at that treacherous gamekeeper, slap random Hufflepuff witch's arses… laugh in little Fourth Year Gryffindor's faces. Get used to it. Because I'm Marcus Flint."
I rolled my eyes. Typical Flint.
"Yeah," I snorted. "With an ego the size of London. You think you're so special. Oh, big bad Slytherin, Quidditch Captain, you rough up any one you come into contact with, shag every witch possible, get the best marks in your year—wait… oh, that's right, you repeated that year, huh. Oh, silly me."
Ooh, that hit a nerve… Go me!
"Flint, just back off. We don't want any trouble. Why don't you just slither back to where people actually want you," voiced Harry. Wow, I had forgotten he was even there. Oh, thank God. I had back up. However, at the same time, poor Harry didn't really understand what he just did there. I doubt that Flint will slither back to his hole anytime soon, especially after that remark. Oh well. It was bound to happen sometime.
"Don't want no trouble, eh?" the bloke laughed. He was good at that. "I think you're in a little too late, pal."
The wee little cronies stacked behind the mass were guffawing loudly. I had forgotten they were there also. It had been a vocal duel between the troll and I. Amazing.
"Of course, I'm sure you best be going on, now," he said nonchalantly. "You do have to find your precious little Quidditch Captain before it's too late."
My breath hitched. What did he just say? I felt my breathing become erratic and the blood pounding in my ears.
Harry didn't seem to be as affected by this as I was, but his back was tensed and he was prepared for a fight. "Where is he, Flint?" the boy questioned harshly. "What the hell have you done!"
Flint laughed. The bastard. "Me?" he inquired sardonically. "Why, I haven't done anything!"
"Where is he?" I yelled, snapping out of my reverie. This was no time to play games.
Flint shrugged. Harry was furious. "Flint…" the boy growled. "Tell us where Oliver is. We need to know."
"You do?" he said, raising his eyebrow in question. "No you don't. He'll be fine by tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow morning!" I shrieked. I couldn't contain it. I wasn't thinking properly—Oliver was in trouble and I didn't have anything to do. I had no idea where he was or who was with him, but I figured that somehow the Slytherins had gotten a hold of him. I was at a loss of what to do and Flint could care less…
…As he smugly grinned.
"What do you want?" Harry asked tiredly, finally getting the gist of it all.
"Me?"
"Yes, you, you smelly bastard," I muttered angrily, turning from him. I couldn't bare to look at him. My fists were clenched and teeth barred angrily. The bastard had known all along and couldn't give a fuck about him. Naturally. He was the enemy. He didn't have any right to help us and if he did then he was most likely high or something. Well... he probably was.
"You must want something. Money? Us to lose points? What is it, Flint?" Harry spat, his voice rising.
"Well, now that you mention it—"
"Just, where the hell is he, Flint?" I whispered brokenly. Oliver's missing was too much to bear and I wasn't sure how long I'd go before I curse him. I needed to know that he was all right.
Flint was silent for a moment, staring hard at me. Tears were threatening to spill and I knew that crying in front of Flint was not something that I wanted to do any time soon. He glanced away angrily. The rage shown through his eyes and I knew that he hated himself for this.
I stared right through him.
"Fine."
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A/N: Likey? I'M SO SORRY THAT THIS WAS SO LONG! AND NO! THIS STORY ISN'T OVER ANY TIME SOON! HAHA! Anyway, thanks so much for your reviews! Ta! heart.
.Emeliee