"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.
A/N: I think I've
kept you waiting long enough… here you go! I LOVE YOU ALL:) It's probably a little sketchy. I have to leave btu I want you to read this. Enjoy!
I couldn't sleep.
The night was stupid and restless and it made me sad because I had been completely mentally exhausted. Dawn came fast but I was already up to see it. The orange, red sun was a blessing of a painting that still regained my sorrow; a red sun rises.
I was last one in the Great Hall for breakfast that morning. It was the rarest thing but I knew that I had to eat something. I regretted coming to the Great Hall, however, because for some reason people just had the urge to talk to me. Why? No clue.
There had been a reason for my lateness, haste and rushing. When I had been up at five in the morning (i.e. dawn) I had made the choice of packing some clothes and necessities because I would be leaving school today. There was nothing that my team, Dumbledore, or even Katie for the matter could do about it. I knew I had an obligation to my team and our practices, but I don't think that I could stand another day here.
"Hey, Ol."
I heard nothing as I sat there starring into my porridge. It was soppy and boring grays that just stared at me, daring me to eat it disgustingly.
I sat there mulling everything over. It was a strange thing to happen to me. I was lost. What should I do? Great. Here I had been completely assured a minute ago and now I'm—
"OLIVER!"
I shot of my seat like a rocket and turned around abashed to find a small, brown-haired sporting girl glaring up at me.
"Are you okay, man?" Katie asked. Ah, my sweet Katie. Always speaks so goddamn bluntly. Of course I was okay… now I just had to say that out loud.
"Y-yeah, Kates, I'm fine," I said quietly, turning back to my delicious porridge. Oh gods, I think I'm going to be sick.
She looked over at me still inquiringly and opened her mouth to ask a question but was quickly (and thankfully) interrupted by a flurry of the post. On a Monday? Ah, well. The many birds came flying down one by one. It was amazing to see all of them. It was a mixture of beautiful color, swarming down like a the rain beating down… whoa—I think I was seriously messed up from that party… er.
I stopped short when I realized that an owl was sitting directly in front of me. I grabbed it quickly as the rude owl flew off indignantly, scattering my glorious porridge all over Fred to me left ("Oi!"). I ripped the enveloped open, noticing quickly the recognizable seal: St. Mungo's. Katie seemed to have noticed it too because she peered over my shoulder, interested. I didn't really feel comfortable letting her see it. I knew what I said, of course, but I was still touchy on the fact. I had to speak to Dumbledore, reminding myself.
Dear Mr. Wood,
St. Mungo's would like to inform you that—"Mr. Wood," came a terse voice from my backside. I inwardly sighed and turned halfway to see Professor McGonagall and her pursed lips glaring down at me, hands on her hips. "The Headmaster would like to see you in his office now."
I was slightly stunned. "Now?"
"Did I stutter? Or are you deaf, boy?" she responded. I felt extremely stupid at this point. With a stammer and shake of my head, I rose, crinkling the note and shoving it in my pocket, unaware of Katie's suspicious glances towards it. I hastily grabbed my things and, forgetting all about Katie, nearly chased my Head of House up to Dumbledore's room. My heart was pounding. What could the old man want? Surely, he must know… My thoughts were interrupted asI tripped up the stairs and fell flat on my face. Minnie was grumbling up a head. "Oh shit!"
…
Thankfully she hadn't heard that. I rushed to keep up with her, my ankle fucking throbbing and—
"Ah, what a pleasure, Mr. Wood, please take a seat. Thank you, Minerva."
And there I was. Bam. Everything had happened so fast that I didn't even realize that I was there.
My eyes flicked away from his. "You wanted to talk to me, sir?" I asked casually. When did I get so good at acting? My heart was more than willing to just thud out of my chest and flop on the floor.
"I believe you received a letter… two in fact?" he asked me, eyes twinkling.
Oh lordy… he knew? I was in a jam. What the fuck do I say? STOP FREAKING OUT, OLIVER! And, smart one, he can probably hear every think that I'm thinking. Just fuckin' great.
I sighed. Wait—did he just laugh? I'm seeing things. That's it. I need more sleep, if this is how it's going to go.
"May I visit her now?" I blurted. What the bloody hell am I thinking? Why in the bejesus did I say that
The old far arranged some of his pristine parchments. "Sure, you may go," he uttered. Ah, those sweet simple words…doing wonders for my soul.
"What?" Is he bullshitting me?
"Did I stutter?" he asked me, without a hint of annoyance.
…
Do the professors go on some sort of camp where they all learn the same phrases so that they can launch them or rather spit them at me one at a time to make me feel more and more useless and stupid on such a bad day that I eventually
I was at a loss of words, sitting there in Dumbledore's office, smushed down in a black leader armchair that was bigger than the man himself, staring at him with wide pleading eyes.
"No." Is he answering my question? "I didn't stutter, is what you would say."
I really need to stop talking to myself.
"However, first we need to talk about a few things that have a happened here at… Hogwarts," he continued solemnly. The slight stutter at 'Hogwarts' had made me things that he was about to say his new or second home, thus bringing about the important topic of—
"My mum?" I cried outraged. Was he just going to ignore the fact that she was finally awake after twelve long years?
"I understand, Mr. Wood, but if I am to allow you to leave, then I must ask you this favor and sit and talk with me for ten minutes at the very least. I'm surprised mostly that you didn't come to me last night or early this morning. Nonetheless, this must be done with," he replied calmly, settling back into his armchair.
… Why didn't I even think about coming to him in the middle of the night? I'm so stupid.
"No, Mr. Wood, I believe that you were still in shock last night after the letter," the Headmaster said, stunning me from my thoughts. Wait—my thoughts.
A look of horror past my face. "You… you? I—but, wait—how?… did you… I don't—did I… DID YOU JUST READ MY FUCKING THOUGHTS?" Er… whoops. My brain was doing too much and could not register words at all, least of all the nice ones.
My mentor replied as if the treacherous swear word had never been uttered, let alone created. "Yes." Oh sweet Jesus.
I stared at him a little longer… "How?" I inquired genuinely. I really wanted to know this man and his secrets. Oh, who am I kidding… that just freaked me out?
"It's called Occlumency, but that is not the point, Mr. Wood, for we are in dire need to speak of recent events—"
"Just go inside my brain," I offered. At this point, I wanted to get the meeting over with so that I can go visit my mother. And what was the point of offering to him some things I didn't even know when he could see them in plain sight? Or… hear them, however occluncy works…
"No, I can't and I won't," he returned. "Tell me everything, Mr. Wood."
And, unfortunately, I knew exactly what he was talking about. And so I told him. Everything. Which, wasn't that much. However, ten minutes later I sighed and I looked back at the man thoughtfully. He didn't appear to be mad or ready to whip out a punishment on me just yet.
"One last thing, Professor," I added, glancing around. "Does Professor McGonagall know about this?" A shake of his head told me otherwise. "Then… would it be a bother if—if she didn't find out?" I stared at him long and hard. Once Minnie knew, my hell would reside here at Hogwarts until the true Hell came and saved me. I didn't want Minnie's undying wrath on me this early in the season. And it was with Slytherin, no doubt…
"Your secret it safe with me, Oliver, but I assure you that I do not want it happening again or else I will indeed tell Professor McGonagall of the situation," he told me with understanding.
I felt a sigh of relief.
"Now," he continued, as his body stretched upward as he stood. "Your mother, I presume?"
--------------------------------------------
The rain was gushing down, streaking the windows at a fast rate. My stomach, although still queasy form the quick Floo travel, was growling as I hadn't eaten any food since last night. Dumbledore, the kind old man, did lend me a turkey sandwhich that he had conjured for me but had advised me to wait until it was absolutely necessary.
Sigh.
I decided to not think about anything. This was decided before I started thinking. There were just too many thoughts that were revolving around me head, with my still throbbing headache, which was slowly getting less. The shock of me attending the Slytherin Dungeon Party hadn't worn off especially since I couldn't even remember one bit of the historical night. It would have been nice… something to tell my grandchildren at least. But I was more worried about what I did then. I had no idea and that was the scary part. Did I hook up with some girl? Was I really stark naked and bashing some chic when Flint found me and was holding this shred of blackmail over my head? I surely hope not, the bastard.
I sighed again.
I also decided to become angry with Madame Pomphrey. Suuure, she saved my life and whatever, blah blah blah, but the fact that she diagnosed me with temporary liver poisoning and amnesia was killer. I must have drunken something totally wicked to screw up my liver and my brain, which was still throbbing—might I add. The ride was pretty excruciating.
Dumbledore, being the smarty pants that he is, decided it would be better that I Floo to Hogsmeade, Portkey to the local Portkey station closets to St. Mungos, and then taxi it Muggle style the rest of the way to the hospital. Unfortunately, with the lack of food and all, the Floo and Portkey travel had done little to help my stomach and, in fact, worsen its conditions. Damn them all. But here I was at the taxi ride… and it was extremely borring. Muggle London had to spazz up its looks every once in a while, at least!
I once again resigned myself to a sigh.
At the moment I felt guiltier than I knew was humanly possible. Only hours ago, Dumbledore had supplied an answer to all my problems, asking if 'Ms. Bell' would like to accompany me to visit my mother. I said no. And I believe I had every right to! I did feel like this needed to be done on my own—not that I didn't want to be around Katie or anything. She's a great gal! Oh, who am I kidding. Ever since we've gotten together things just haven't been the same. I don't feel the same trust and friendship that we had before I had to go out and kiss her, damnit! Whether it was the Dungeon party, this, or, heck, even Alix, she's always looking at me with some…thing, some damnable thing glinting in her eye that I don't know what it is, but it doesn't look good.
And here I was, without her riding in a taxi through Muggle London ready to meet my apparently conscious mother. Dumbledore had forced me to pocket 50 Muggle dollars at me—two 20 dollar bills and a ten dollar bill—thrown me through the fireplace with the activiated Portkey hailing a taxi. Why did this seem so hard?
With a neck-breaking jerk, I realized that my little Iranian man taxi-driver had pulled up to my address, red telephone booth gleaming in the… rain. It had been a while since I had been here and I could hardly remember what to do. I thanked the lordy that my pride hadn't taken over me when Dumbledore had asked him if I knew the directions once I got inside, I thought, handing the driver the needed money—$16.78.
"Keep the change," I mutter and I hear him speeding off, the exhaust infiltrating my nostrils. Damn cars. With a small, but manly, cough I stepped onto the pavement, appearing to be interested in the small Thrift shop that stood behind the gleaming Telephone booth. I could practically smell the magic coming from it and was a little shy in being able to sneak in it. I felt as if all the Muggles could tell that I was a wizard…
My casual façade was soon going to vanish when a suspicious looking, burly man in a magenta overcoat and pants dashed by. Was this world strange or what?
Getting into the telephone booth like magic, I picked up the phone and followed the woman's voice, soon stating my name and why I was there. I was quivering. Before I knew it, I was approaching the white receptionist's desk.
"I'm here for Adeline Wood," I said, the words came out of me too easily but they seemed a little strange.
She looked up at me in surprise, wisps flying from her messy brown bun. She glanced around nervously. "Are you her—son?" she asked cautiously. I nodded slowly, feeling that my voice would betray me.
"Come with me!" she hurried as I followed her up to the room. It seemed like it took ages, but I knew that soon I was going to be able to see my mother… to talk to her!
The door opened wide. There she was, sitting up in all her glory with the pillows behind her. For a second, her face was impassive until it broke out in a loud grin and her beautiful laughter filled the room.
"Mum?"