Disclaimer: Not mine, all Jo's, yada yada ya.

Andy was—quite sullenly—walking to class when a hand pulled her into a darkened corridor, and another hand slapped over her mouth, apparently in an attempt to stop her from screaming. It probably would have worked, if Andy had been the kind to scream when scared. Unfortunately for her attacker, she bit him instead.

"Merlin, what was that for?" hissed a familiar voice.

"Oliver? What the hell do you think you're doing?" Andy hissed back. It was, as stated previously, incredibly dark, and if Andy wasn't so sure that was Oliver's voice, she'd be a little less pissed that she couldn't make out his ugly mug, and a little bit more scared.

"Resorting to Muggle epithets, Carrins? How crass," he said. It sounded like he was having trouble speaking, and then Andy realized he had his teeth clenched. She didn't think she'd bitten him that hard.

"Fine. Why in Merlin's name did you bring me in here?" she asked.

"I thought you wanted to speak to me?" asked Oliver, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. As if he hadn't just dragged her into a darkened corridor against her will. What a git.

"Yes," said Andy, because even though Oliver was a git, she didn't intend to be one. "I want back on the team."

There was a long silence—during which Andy decided that dark silences were infinitely worse than lighted silences—before Oliver spoke. "And what makes you so sure that the team wants you back on it?"

"Well, seeing as how every single one of you has asked me to come back, I'd hazard a guess that I'm right. Besides, you need me."

Oliver snorted, and Andy could almost see that insufferable hair flip that he always did when he thought he was being ace. "Cassiopeia is good enough. We don't need you."

"Really? Because from where I stand, good enough is not good enough," said Andy. "Or have you lost your drive to be perfect in the few days without me? It's understandable, really, seeing as without me you've lost the perfect bes—the perfect Seeker."

And obviously Oliver knew where she had been planning to go with that—she'd stopped because Oliver most certainly did not deserve her friendship back, yet—because the silence grew unbearably awkward.

Finally, Oliver spoke. "Meet me on the Pitch in fifteen minutes. We'll see whether you're as good as you think you are, Carrins."

Then, Oliver stormed out of the corridor, and Andy was left feeling pissed.

And rather alone, because even if Oliver wasn't her best mate anymore, it still killed for him to call her Carrins.

The git knew how much she hated it, and he would pay for that. She'd see to it that he'd never want another Seeker for as long as he breathed.

Andy's Third Year—Oliver's Fourth Year

Andy hated when Oliver wasn't around. She always felt antsy, like there was something that she was supposed to be doing, but forgotten. It was even worse when she couldn't just head down to the Quidditch pitch to find him. She hated that he was home, and she hated that she was still at Hogwarts, but mostly she hated the reason he was gone. Arthur—

Suddenly, the portrait swung back, and Andy, who couldn't get to sleep and had decided to sit in the common room, looked up to find Oliver standing awkwardly in the shadow of the room.

Andy was on her feet immediately to go near him. If it had been any of her other friends, she would have easily enveloped them in a hug, but Oliver supposedly thought them stupid, and he'd never allowed any of his friends to hug him. So, Andy merely flitted about anxiously before pulling him down to sit next to her on the couch.

Several silent moments passed before Andy whispered, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Oliver was on his feet in an instant, the heat of his glare worse than the enveloping warmth of the fire. "Why would I want to tell you anything, Carrins?"

And Andy had had enough. She'd been so damn worried for the past week—wondering how Oliver was, and if he was going to be okay, and if his parents were going to even let him come back—that his being an ass just did not compute. So, of course, Andy handled it in the only way that she knew how; she swung back her fist and punched him squarely in the nose.

Oliver let out an unmanly squawk before toppling onto the couch and holding his hands over his nose. "I thin' you bro'e it!"

"Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry, Oliver. It's just, I was so worried, and then you were being a prat and calling me Carrins, and you know how I hate that, and I'm so sorry!" cried Andy, frantically trying to remember anything about the first aid training one of her many uncles had given her. "Okay, just keep applying pressure. Uh, wait, no, let go for a second and let me see it."

Oliver eyed her suspiciously from over his hands before slowly removing them from his face. Andy leaned forward, examining the area. "Okay, so there's no blood, and it doesn't look to be swollen. Uh, it's straight? I guess? Or at least no more crooked than normal."

"If I end up looking like Dumbledore, and no one finds me attractive ever agaain, I'm going to murder you," said Oliver. Andy smiled faintly at the thought of Oliver with Dumbledore's nose—and the thought that anyone had found Oliver Wood attractive beforehand—before reaching out to gingerly prod the protrusion.

"Does that hurt?" she asked. Oliver winced slightly, but shrugged.

"A bit, I s'pose. Not much. I don't think it's broken," mumbled Oliver. He let out a huge yawn before continuing. "At least I know that I don't have to worry about defending your honor; you'll do perfectly fine by yourself with that left hook."

At this Andy grinned and waggled her eyebrows lecherously. "Who says I have any honor to defend?"

Oliver snorted—which pretty much proved his nose was fine—and then nudged Andy. "You realize that if that's true then I'm going to have to murder someone. Best mate's duty and all that."

"Then I suppose I have to admit I'm lying," sighed Andy. "Darn you, Oliver, for revealing all my tricks."

Andy had been trying to lighten the mood, but all of a sudden Oliver was slumped against her, and his shoulders were shaking. Andy had only a brief moment of hesitation before grabbing him and holding him closely until the shudders resided.

"I hate him," he mumbled into Andy's shirt. "He's an utter git and I hate him."

"Shh, I know," Andy whispered. They sat like that for a long time until Oliver's breathing evened out, and even then Andy didn't dare move. She stayed awake the entire night, listening for any changes that might signal that Oliver was about to wake up.

Finally, when the first rays of sunshine filtered in through the windows, Oliver stirred. Andy closed her eyes, but she could feel Oliver's confusion. Then, he was extracting himself from her arms, and padding silently to the stairs.

"Thanks," he whispered, and then he was gone, and Andy went upstairs to get at least a few hours of sleep.

They never spoke of that night, and Oliver never mentioned Arthur again. But at breakfast that morning, when Oliver unveiled his magnificent black eye, he entertained everyone with the tale of how Andromeda Carrins had punched him simply for calling her by her last name.

(Eventually, when Andy told him just why she hated being called that, he promised never to do it again, but for weeks afterwards that was all he would use. It drove her batty. Which, of course, was why he did it.)

Author's Note: What's this? A new chapter that comes less than a billion months after the previous? What a strange concept!

Alrighty, so I updated! Crazy, crazy, crazy!

reviews please?