WARNING: UNWANTED ADULT-TYPE TOUCHING
Not super graphic, pg-13 at worst.

Oliver

6th year
Late February 1994
Hogsmeade
-

Oliver and Leilani were out in the village today. She'd pulled him into the bookshop where she intended to spend at least the next hour reading. There was a little reading area with a wooden stage and some squishy couches; she took a spot on the stage after nicking a pillow from the couch so she could lean against the wall and not have her back complain.

"I don't want you seeing Mon'gom'ry again," he said when she was a few pages into her book.

"We're just friends, Oliver. You have no reason to be jealous," Leili replied with a distracted air.

"I'm no' jealous."

"Yeah-huh, sure you're not," she said, mentally rolling her eyes.

"I dinna care if you're just friends, I don' want ye seeing her again."

She looked up, not taking him at all seriously, "You do realize that would be impossible, right? We share a bedroom and we share classes, we're both 6th year Hufflepuffs, there's no way we could just stop seeing each other."

He tugged the book out of her hand, "I've been fair tae you, haven' I?"

"Sure…" What a weird question, she thought.

"Then why won' ye be fair to me?" He grinned, wrapping an arm around her lower back and pulling her into him. The velvet skirt made sliding her across the wood easy. He positioned their bodies so her knees straddled his hips and his arm pressed into her back, locking her in position on his lap, "Do I have tae lock you up, darlin'?" he grinned down at her.

Leili snickered, reaching up to stretch out her back; giving him a short peck on the lips while she was there, "Don't be silly. Now, give me back the book."

"Yer lips make me wonder what the rest of ye tastes like…" he whispered in her ear, holding the book just beyond her reach.

She fought against the tremble in her knees as she pushed back on his chest, "Woah, now! We've had this discussion before! I'm underage, remember?" That was her reason and she was holding fast to it! "We can revisit… that in April, when I'm 17. I'd like my book back, please. Now."

Tossing the book away, he murmured, "There's naught wrong with us wanting each other." He kissed her hard and long before growling against her lips, "Having each other…"

She laughed sardonically, "There's plenty wrong with it." She leaned for the book but he pulled her back so she was still on his lap. "Give me my book back, or I'm walking out of here."

"Nae, Lassie, ye won't." He pressed his lips to her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck, "Do you know how bad I want ye?" he murmured, tightening his arms around her and shifting so she was on her back.

"No. C'mon, gimme back my book!" She just wanted to read!

He pulled her further into him and shifted so the front of his jeans pressed between her legs. "This bad." His hands ground her hips against his as he bit down just above her collarbone for emphasis. She gasped as he rubbed against her.

For a moment, she hesitated.

For a moment, she wondered.

Maybe I should just…go along with it, she thought. Maybe it would get him off my back a little bit. His hands dove beneath her skirt and into her panties to squeeze her butt. The front of his jeans was hot between her legs and he kissed her soundly, his tongue probing the inside of her mouth as the tips of his fingers roved, grazing places they had no business grazing and for a moment—just a moment—even though she tried not to be, even though she knew these were the wrong reasons, she was tempted.

The moment of temptation was shattered as Jo's voice popped unbidden into her head saying, "Are you sure?"

There was nothing to kill a mood quite like your best friend intruding on it—even if said friend was just a voice in her head at the moment and even if the intrusion was an unexpected blessing.

She hit the proverbial brakes.

She tore her mouth away from his and cried, "WOAH! No. No! I said I'm not doing this! I told you: If you can't restrain yourself for another month and a half I'm going to drop you in the lake! And you know I can do it, because I'm crafty!" She'd let him try his wiles against the giant squid.

She shoved his shoulder to try and put some space between their bodies but his arms were still locked around her rear so when he went over, she went with him.

She yelped as they tumbled, throwing out an arm, reaching, straining for her book but he rolled in the other direction so she was again trapped beneath him.

He kissed her urgently and un-gently as he thrust again. He wanted her, right here, right now on this wooden stage surrounded by children's books where anyone could walk in at any time.

She started shaking her head, "Mm-mm!" she murmured. She was light headed and the room was too empty, somehow too secluded and too open at the same time. She managed to wrench her mouth free of his, "No. Oliver. STOP."

With a lurching heave, she managed to force them to roll again. She couldn't get up unless she was on top, but her plan backfired; they rolled down the steps leading off the stage and she hit her head twice.

Head throbbing now, she stood, backing away.

His eyes glinted as he followed her up, "Ye shouldna tease me like that, lassie…"

"Ow!" she yelped as he gave her a sharp little shove back into the brick wall she hadn't realized was scant inches behind her. The back of her head connected with the rough surface and the air whooshed out of her lungs.

"Ye belong ta me now, ye ken? Ye're mine." He wanted dating her to be like flying a Firebolt in a winter storm. Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, knowing he could lose control at any second and not caring because of the thrill, the rush, the adrenaline.

"Oliver, I'm sorry. Right now, my head really hurts, so could we do this another day? Or never? Never would be good too." She was running out of patience and her head really did hurt. She just wanted to go find an ice pack and her book.

"I'll kiss away the pain, lass."

"I don't want you to. Kissing you won't make my headache go away."

"Wanna bet?" he kissed her jaw as she turned her face away.

"Oliver, please, not now," she pleaded. "What is it with you and sex in public places?" she wondered in annoyance.

He pinned her face between his hands and poured all his energy into the kiss. He felt her hands come up and fist in his robes on either side of his chest, pulling him closer and while he triumphed, she shoved. She sent him staggering a few steps back.

"Wha—!" He blinked as she glared at him. "Wha' was tha' for?!"

"Whaddya mean 'what was that for'?" she shouted back, her face going hot with anger. "You don't just go around kissing me when I ask you not to! Don't do that!"

This wasn't going the way he'd planned. "But yer so cute righ' noo!"

"I am NOT cute!"

He thought she was, with her face screwed into a snarl and her fists balled by her sides. He said as much.

"No! Do not patronize me, Oliver! I'm not cute, I'm in pain, I don't want you kissing me and I definitely don't want to have sex with you!"

He reached for her hips, "Ye liked it in the dress shop," he reminded her, voice going deep and husky and obviously meant to weaken her knees. He trailed the tip of his tongue up the side of her neck, before circling the little hollow behind her jaw. The exact spot she dabbed on that perfume he'd bought her.

If possible, her face got even hotter, this time with acute embarrassment. She shivered in more than a touch of disgust. She glanced down at the bulge in her skirt that was his hand pressing through her panties and at the one curving around her hips. With a purse of her lips, smacked it sharply and repeatedly until he let go, and she wrapped her fingers around his other wrist, digging her nails in until he withdrew it.

She stepped back until his hand was on the outside of her skirt. "I'm leaving. Don't find me, I'll find you when I am done hating your guts."

He reached for her again: this is what he wanted. He caught glimpses of it when she was angry or really worked up over something—usually a book. Seeing her like that made him want to do things like pin her up against the wall and hike her dress up so he could feel the warmth of her waist on his bare hands. It made him want to kiss her senseless.

"Say it again." He took her by the waist, pulling her back into the wall.

"Say what?" she gasped, trying to blink away the spots in her vision, she'd hit her head again.

"Say ye're sorry and I'll let you go," he teased.

"Oliver, please," she didn't like this. The rough bricks were jabbing into her back, her hips, her pounding head.

"Say it," he growled.

She didn't like it at all.

She tried to push away from the wall, but his hands on her hips kept her pinned, like a butterfly under glass.

"Oliver, please, you're scaring me." The last time, when she'd bought this dress, she hadn't been afraid of him, she'd been scared, but not of him.

She was scared of him now.

"Say it and I'll let you go," he repeated.

"I'm sorry," she said dutifully, though she didn't know what exactly she was apologizing for. Turning him on? Saying no? Refusing to stop having friends?

He waited.

She swallowed.

More.

He wanted more.

"I'm sorry, Oliver." She put a tiny smile on her lips, submissive and apologetic. Docile. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants, pulling him infinitesimally closer. She tipped her head back and looked up at him with big blue-grey eyes. "Forgive me?"

He grinned suddenly, his eyes crinkling, "Always, lass." He kissed the top of her head and stepped aside, handing her the abandoned book.

Ignoring the shame burning in her eyes, she tried not to stomp or hurry as she walked away, her hand pressing hard on the throbbing knot at the back of her head. "Ow…"

"Are you ok, miss?" the clerk asked as Leili handed her the book.

"Fine. I'm fine; I just leaned back too suddenly," she lied. "You might consider padding the brick wall behind the stage."

"I'll pass along the message. Is this all for you?"

Leili nodded, th emotion sending throbs of ache through her skull.

"That'll be two galleons, 11 sickles and 27 knuts please."

Leili handed over three galleons and took the book.

"Miss, your change!"

"Keep it!" Leili called on her way out the door, she just wanted to go.

She half-ran, half-speed-walked down the lane, up stairs, down stairs and through the barrel door when she got back to the common room.

"JO!" she called. "Jo, are you here?" the common room was basically deserted, except for a few kids studying by the hearth who frowned at her for shouting. She took more stairs at a jog, "Jo, I need to talk to you!" She wasn't in their dorm either. "I guess she's out." She drew her wand to tap her charm bracelet and let Jo know she was back. Then she settled in to wait.

The silence in the room made the thoughts in her pounding head too loud, they were all she could hear and therefore all she could listen to and think about.

I don't need to tell Jo about this. I didn't last time. But I should. She'd want to know.

He hurt me.

He scared me.

But he didn't mean to…right?

I promised I'd tell her if I ever got hurt, but he didn't mean to knock my head into the wall or the floor. I should have just gone with it, then none of this would have happened… but I said stop. I said wait. He didn't do anything wrong by asking me to apologize. It was right that he ask, he was probably ready to go and I stopped.

But he took my book! That wasn't fair of him. I was reading and he interrupted me, because he wanted to have sex!

He wanted. He. Not me.

I did kinda want it though… I was curious. …I should tell Jo. But if I tell her about today, I'll have to tell her about last time. I don't want to tell ANYBODY about last time. But I can't get the feeling of his fingers out of my head...

"NO," she said firmly. "That was an invasion, it was assault and he was wrong to do it." But I started it today… didn't I? Suddenly she couldn't remember.

She squeezed her hands between her knees and tried to ignore the throbbing in both her head and her groin, "I am losing my mind! Argh!" While she was broken out of her endless cycle of back and forth, she noticed she was shaking—not just shaking, rocking. She'd been rocking back in forth on her bed; knees pulled up to her chest and staring at nothing so hard her eyes were sore. She wasn't sure when the last time she'd blinked was.

For no reason other than to fill the sudden void in her ears, she said to herself, "Merlin, I'm cold. I need to get out of this dress." She shucked it off and pulled out her favorite sweatshirt, jeans and knee-high socks, intent on hiding the bite mark. As she was tugging the socks on, she realized what she needed. The one thing that always helped: a swim. She left a note on the bedside table so when Jo did get back from wherever, she'd know where to come find her. Then she pulled on her suit and tossed her sweater over it before marching out of the House and into the corridors.

She tried to keep her mind focused but one thought kept intruding: I should tell Jo.

"Swashbuckling," she said to the bathroom door. She'd begged the password to the Prefects bathroom weeks ago, after a particularly stressful month had caused a delay in her period, which had caused more stress, which in turn led to a missed period—stress was vicious like that.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her bracelet began to burn on her wrist. Jo was returning the signal and she hadn't noticed. Now it was starting to hurt. She quickly cancelled the charm and unclasped the chain.

The splash from her dive echoed through the tiled room.

Jo was on her way.

Leili wouldn't tell her.

But Jo wasn't stupid.

She knew whatever it was that was causing Leili so much stress had to do with Oliver. She'd noticed the subtle changes, the times when the words that came out of her mouth would have been better suited to the Gryff's, the way she'd tried to spend time with Jo but somehow always found it interrupted by Oliver. The little barbs Oliver used to describe Marcus had somehow found their way into—and out of—Leili's mouth. The way she didn't realize it wasn't a thing she'd normally say until it was too late. The way she'd stopped coming to Quidditch practice.

"Hey!" Jo called as she entered the palatial bathroom. She rolled her pants up to her knees and sat down to dabble.

Leili came up, "Hi!" she grinned, swimming over to rest her hands on Jo's feet.

"How was your date?"

"I got a new book," Leili flipped onto her back to float aimlessly. She didn't realize it, but she was avoiding meeting Jo's eyes. Having her ears in the water had an added benefit of separating her from a conversation she didn't want to have.

"Hm. What's that on your neck?"

"Hmm? Where?"

"Around your collar. Looks like… maybe a hickey."

"That formed fast," she mumbled to herself.

"You bruise easily, we both know this. So what happened on this date?"

"Nothing. Some arguing. Some snogging. Apparently he bites."

"Thus the hickey."

"Thus the hickey," Leili agreed before shaking it off. She flipped over to grin at Jo, "C'mon, come swim."

Jo stripped down to her suit and cannon balled into the water. "So, what did you guys argue about?" Jo asked when she surfaced.

"Nothing important. He wants us—you and me, us—to stop hanging out. He's jealous; it's stupid. I was clumsy in the bookshop today. Hit my head on the wall, tripped and fell down the stairs kind of clumsy."

"Did he help you fall down the stairs?"

"No, it was totally all me."

Jo's vibes tingled; lie.

Why is she lying to me? Jo thought and opened her mouth to ask just that but managed to soften the question a little, accusations wouldn't get anywhere; they'd just make Leili defensive and upset. "Leili—are you ok?"

Leili opened her mouth to say yes, absolutely, of course, but instead admitted, "I'm in over my head."

Jo waited.

"I'm in over my head and I don't know what to do."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing."

"You can tell me anything, you know."

"I do. I do know that, but I can't. It's nothing; it was my fault. My fault."

Jo bristled, "I doubt that."

Leili threw a bright, brittle grin her way before diving under the surface again.

"You're not alone, Leili."

"I know."

"We can stay here until you feel better."

"You know what would make me feel better?"

"Hm?"

"Changing the subject."