"Third time in two weeks? You must miss me," James joked. Iris laughed as she slid into the table at their old pub.
"Just needed a night out of the flat," she said. "Don't get too big a head." James laughed. To be honest, after the heart to heart with George that day at the shop, it was a bit too difficult watching Oliver go through the motions of life with none of the feeling. Of having the same conversations over and over. He'd talk about whatever happened at training or with the League that day. She'd start to talk about her work with George. He'd find an excuse to go up to the library to work on something. She hadn't even been able to bring up the job with the Ministry.
It killed her that he still wouldn't open up to her about all the pain that she could tell he was feeling. Or even be around her either. It was beginning to get overwhelming, so Iris welcomed the respite that being out with an old friend brought. At least she could put her worries aside for a few hours.
"I'm not complaining. It's nice to reconnect with an old face. And someone who doesn't want to talk numbers and export law," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Dad breathing down your neck?" she asked. James nodded as the waitress brought their beers.
"All this, 'I'm trusting you to uphold the family name and honor, James,' and such. He must rather enjoy giving that speech. I hear it at least once a day," he said. "Now, he's also been mentioning that he thinks it's high time I settled down, found a wife. You'd think he was talking business rather than marriage." Iris' eyes widened.
"Didn't realize some folks were still old fashioned about that sort of thing," she said. James shrugged.
"We come from old money. So of course he thinks I should also marry into old money. At least for the first marriage," he said. "Not like he has much to say there. My stepmother was a few rungs down the ladder."
"Christ, and here I thought marriage was supposed to be about love," she said.
"Just be lucky you're not subjected to this," he said. "Even when I was abroad, he'd somehow know if I had started dating and managed to ream me out for how 'unsuitable' she was." Iris wrinkled her nose.
"Imagine what he would have said had he known about us," she said. James studied her with a smile. "An orphan, James? Really?" she said with an over exaggerated accent. "How… uncivilized." James roared with laughter.
"I know you've never met him, but that was spot on," he said. Iris shook her head, smiling.
"Well. I may not have to deal with your father, but I do have Oliver's mother checking in quite often dropping hints here and there. Ever since he introduced us, she's been trying to get us married," Iris said.
"How's he doing?" James asked, his concern apparent. Iris shrugged.
"The same. He acts like everything is okay, but… the wall is still there," she said. Her brightness fell just a bit. "I just keep waiting, but… he won't talk about it. Our friend said I should just… force him to. But I don't want to push him farther away than he already is." James nodded.
"You have the patience of a saint, Poppy," he said. Iris laughed softly.
"Well… when we first met… I was in a bad sort of way. And he was very patient with me. So, it's only fair that I allow him the same," she said. James nodded. He had always sensed there was something about her that she hid from most everyone. Something she didn't talk about. Much like she had never wanted to talk about her sister and brother-in-law. Or her parents. Outside the fact they had all died, that is. An air of sadness had always been settled around her. Despite her openness with him back in the day, she was still fairly secretive and a part of her was closed off. He could still sense it. The fact that she had found someone to open up to was nothing short of a miracle.
"It sounds like he is the person you needed back then. And now he needs you. All you can do is trust that the connection between you is strong enough. And it'll lead him back to you," James said, turning serious for a moment. Iris nodded.
"I know… Sometimes I can still feel it. At night, when he's asleep. He reaches out for me. Just to know I'm there. The old Oliver I fell in love with is still there," she said with a sad smile.
"Well, however it goes, you'll always have a drinking buddy in me," James added, grinning. Iris laughed.
"Sometimes I worry about the sheer amount of alcohol we consume together. You're going to put me into an early grave, James," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Ah, but at least you'll go out having fun," he quipped. "Bottoms up."
"Not that I don't enjoy just the guys, but where is Iris? Not like her to be off somewhere without you," George asked, propping his feet up on the coffee table before taking a long drink of his beer.
"She's out with the muggle bloke again," Oliver said neutrally. "Think it's the second or third time they've caught up."
"James? Hmm, she's mentioned him at the shop," George replied. "Seems like an okay sort."
"Is that so?" Oliver asked. Once again, it appeared as though Iris had shared more with George than him. Though he supposed it made sense. The two were working together nearly every day. George looked at him confused.
"Yea. Seems some of their adventures together were the inspiration behind a few of her potions," he said. "Plus, anyone that enjoys getting into a spot of trouble here or there seems to be okay in my book." Oliver nodded and took a sip of his beer. George turned to the face him on the sofa. "Haven't you two talked about him?" Oliver shrugged.
"She's brought him up a few times, but we didn't really get into it," he said.
"And you're okay with that?" George asked.
"I suppose. How should I feel?" Oliver asked. He was upset that she hadn't shared as much with him as George, yes, but at the same time, it was no one's fault but his own. Every day, she tried to talk to him, but he would find something to do to avoid talking to her for too long. It's not like he had been open and eager for long conversations with her lately.
"Don't you want to know more about this bloke your girl is running off to hang out with?" George asked. "They were practically dating."
"It was years ago. I trust Iris," Oliver responded.
"It's not a matter a trust, Wood. It's a matter of listening to your girlfriend when she talks to you. Or just… talking to her period," he said.
"And I suppose you know more about that than I do," Oliver said, starting to feel a bit tense. George was entering territory that Oliver didn't want to get into.
"At this point, I might as well be dating Iris seeing as she spends more time talking with me than you," he said, not intending it to come out as harsh as it did. Oliver flinched slightly.
"Really?" he asked, staring ahead at the fireplace.
"Did you know Shacklebolt offered her a position with the Ministry?" George said. Oliver turned to look at him. "I'll take that as a no. He wants her to be an auror." Oliver looked down at his hands.
"What'd she say?" he asked.
"She turned it down. She said she didn't want to back out on helping me with the shop, but I know she mostly did it for you," he said. "She's happy enough, but I could tell that she was seriously tempted to take the offer. Even Percy told her she should consider it."
"Why would she turn it down for me? I wouldn't have stopped her from taking the job if she had told me," Oliver said, looking up. "She's her own person. If she wants to be an auror, she should be an auror."
"Will you come off it, Wood? How can you be so… clueless?" George practically yelled. Oliver jumped slightly. "Merlin's beard, Iris has been sugarcoating things. Now I see why she's running off to drink with James every other night." He stood and started walking towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Oliver asked, still a bit stunned by George's outburst.
"To get bloody drunk with someone who's not a zombie," he shouted without looking back. Oliver watched as George stopped for a moment and turned, taking a few steps back towards him.
"I know it's not easy, but you've got to come off it, Wood. We've all had our share of struggles the last year. We're all learning how to deal and cope. Even Iris. You are not the only one. I lost my bloody brother, for Merlin's sakes, and you don't see me shutting down or closing myself off," he said. "What's more, you have someone amazing - who wants to listen and help you. And you're too… too… I don't know if it's fear or what, but you've got to let go of whatever it is. Talk. To. Her. You keep this up, and you will lose her. You're my mate and always will be, but right now, you're being a prat."
With that, George turned on his heel and stormed out of the flat. Oliver leaned forward on the sofa and rubbed his face, staring at the fire. George was right. And he had voiced Oliver's biggest fear. That she would eventually leave - that he would succeed in pushing her away. But at the same time, he wasn't sure he wanted her to know everything. Oliver pushed himself off the sofa and walked over to the kitchen, opening a cabinet and grabbing a bottle of firewhisky, feeling like he needed something a bit stronger to process George's words. He then grabbed a glass and walked back to the sofa, sitting down and placing them on the table. He poured himself a generous portion and stared into the fire.
A couple hours later, Iris quietly let herself into the flat. She had managed to escape without getting drunk this time, but still didn't want to bother Oliver. He had been pulling long hours lately with the league - either working or training. Between that and the daily nightmares, she wanted him to get whatever sleep he could. She stepped into the bedroom and noticed the bed still made. That was odd. Iris turned and walked down the corridor into the living room. Oliver was passed out on the couch, a nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey on the table in front of him next to a glass. She stood and watched him, filling with worry. She wasn't sure how to take this development. Sighing, she walked over to him, deciding the best thing to do was to try and get him to wake up enough so that she could help him to bed. She tossed her purse down and pulled off her jacket before stepping next to him.
"Oliver. Oliver, I need to you wake up a bit for me," she said, shaking him. Would have been easier to levitate him into the room, she supposed, but she wanted to make sure he hadn't just drank himself into a coma. Oliver stirred a bit. He swung his head around and peered at her through blurry eyes.
"Iris," he slurred. He took her face in his hands and squinted at her a bit. "Tha you?" Iris nodded.
"Yea. You seem to have had a bit to drink," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly at his whisky breath. "C'mon, let's get you to bed." She pulled his arm around her shoulder and tried to lift him. Oliver was still in a bit of a stupor and the large Quidditch player was too much for her to lift on her own.
"I need you to stand, darling," she said, gritting her teeth slightly.
"Oh yea… bed," he said. This time, he helped push himself off the sofa. Together, they both stumbled down the corridor.
"Iris, do you love me?" he asked suddenly. Iris sighed. He must be really, stinking drunk.
"Of course I do, Oliver," she said, concentrating on not bumping into the walls of the corridor or running into the staircase.
"Are you happy?" he inquired. Dear god, he was persistent. They had just walked into the room. Oliver stopped her, swaying a bit. "Are you happy?" he asked again. Iris looked up into his eyes and swallowed.
"Yes, I am," she said. Oliver reached up and touched her face.
"You're lying," he slurred. There wasn't any anger or disappointment. It didn't sound like an accusation. More like he was just confirming something.
"I'm not," she said, moving towards the bed. She managed to get him sitting on the edge and was now moving to lift his legs up. Thank god he was already clad in pajama pants. She was glad she wouldn't have had to deal with undressing him in this state.
"I did make you happy… before… but now, James makes you happy, doesn't he?" Iris sighed. This was not a conversation she wanted to be having with a rather drunk Oliver.
"Oliver, you're drunk. Let's talk about this tomorrow," she said, walking towards the bathroom.
"I'm sorry, Iris," he said. She stopped and turned to face him. He was sitting up, his eyes wide with tears. "I'm sorry I don't make you happy anymore. I'm sorry I'm holding you back." She walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed. She took his hands in hers.
"Oliver…," she said, softly. So this is what had been bothering him. Or at least part of it. To be honest, it was coming out in a jumbled mess and she wasn't sure why he thought he was holding her back.
"If you want, you should take the Ministry job. Don't let me stop you. It's okay," he went on. "I'll be fine. And James… it's okay. I'm fine." Iris chuckled softly as tears slowly fell down her cheeks.
"Oliver, you're not holding me back. And there's nothing with James. I love you," she said softly, peering into his dark brown eyes. She brushed his cheek gently, feeling the scratchy start of a beard. She wasn't sure how much of this he was registering, but she would still try.
"You're too good for me, Iris," he slurred. "Too good. I don't deserve you." Iris sighed and shook her head.
"That's not true, Oliver William Wood," she said.
"Couldn't even protect you… it's my fault. You were in a coma because of me," he said. Iris took his face in both of her hands, forcing him to look at her.
"No. No. It's not your fault. You saved me, Oliver," she said. Oliver stared at her. Iris slowly dropped her hands to her lap. He reached up and traced her face with his finger, then gently played with a loose curl.
"I thought I lost you… but you're here. But it's my fault. But I'll do better," he said. He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Can't lose you again. George's right. I can't lose you." He then swayed and bit and lay back on the bed. "Can't lose you," he murmured. Iris watched him a bit and then stood. She turned and walked to the bathroom. She quickly changed into her pajamas, then threw cold water on her face. She stared at herself in the mirror as it dripped off.
Her eyes were red and her face was slightly puffy from crying. But the same steely determination that had kept her alive all those years was there. This time, she was determined that she wouldn't give up on Oliver. She sighed and walked back into the bedroom. Oliver was asleep. She walked over and crawled into bed, lying on her side facing him. His mouth was slightly open as he breathed softly. He was still in there. She hoped with all her heart that he would remember something from tonight. That maybe this was just the first step towards tearing down the wall he had built around him.