Come What May

Chapter Four


The morning after Ripley, and Oliver's fight was like any other morning. People got up, took showers, got dressed, chatted softly, went through the Daily Prophet, and ate as comrades. What was different was the fact that neither Oliver nor Ripley spoke to each other, looked at one another, and avoided the other at all costs. Remus watched them with a slightly amused, but also drained expression, he knew how Ripley could act when jaded, and Oliver, well the Quidditch player would be fine, he didn't have a temper.

Fred glanced at his old captain, and then at his friend. "You pregnant Rip?"

"Jesus Christ, Fred!" yelped Ripley. "The hell?"

"I'm just sayin' you're avoiding Wood."

"Fred Weasley!" Molly abolished furiously. Ripley rose from the table, shot Oliver a glare, and left.

Sirius looked over at the Scotsman, and no matter how much he tried to dislike Ripley it was actually difficult. "What'd ya do to her?" He asked softly, playing with his fork.

"We had a fight."

"Oh, a fight," Sirius nodded understandingly. "And would that have been a relationship fight, or a 'you're being a complete jackass, and not understanding her' fight?" He had talked to the American that morning when he realized she was sleeping on the couch.

"An 'it's none of your business, so stay the hell outta it' fight," Wood replied abruptly.

"It's my business because it is under my roof with a friend."

"She's a friend now is she?"

"When you're being a complete dic—" Sirius had risen from his seat, only to be cut off by Albus in the doorway.

"That's enough Sirius; we have other important matters to discuss. Oliver, would you be kind enough to fetch Ripley."

"Me?" Oliver pointed at himself, brow arched worriedly.

"Yes, you." Albus' blue eyes twinkled in amusement as the Quidditch Player hesitantly left the room. He then looked to Sirius. "I would like to kindly remind you all, Miss. Todd, and Mr. Wood can take care of their relationship."

"A piss poor job he's doin'," muttered Sirius.

"Sirius I don't recall you ever being good at relationships," Remus said amusedly.

Sirius sneered at the werewolf. "'Cause I didn't want them."

"If it makes you feel better."

Oliver looked at the dark scarred wood of Ripley's door. The dull, brass knob was just inches from his fingers, just a quick turn, pop his head in, tell her, and run. Simple. He had thought it was going to be simple, but they had said words to each-other that couldn't quite be forgiven. He sighed heavily; it had been so much easier in school.

"You know," Sirius said from behind him. "Most people would've gotten the job done by now."

"Most people don't date psychotic Americans."

"Your mistake."

"I'm happy with her."

"Then get in there," Sirius opened the door, and shoved Wood into the room; he grinned at the scowl Rip shot from her bed, and closed the door. The silence that hung between them was as thick as the fog surrounding the house outside, so dense you could barely see where you were going. He looked at the duffel she was packing, and slid his hands into his pockets. "They're calling you away?" he asked softly.

"Gotta do what I gotta do," she replied tossing a pair of socks on top of the pile of clothes.

Oliver swallowed hard, fighting back his fear. "Albus is downstairs, wants ta talk to ya."

"All right," Ripley zippered up her duffle. She glanced around to see if she needed anything else, her gaze landed on her hockey bag, but that would wait until she was back. She shouldered the duffle, and picked up a hoodie from chair of the desk. It was the last thing she needed from her room.

Oliver watched her with dark brown eyes. He wished she wasn't so headstrong, so brave, he knew better. He always had known better. He could see past the façade she had on. She was scared, of what he wasn't sure. It was an Auror thing he knew, one she was "forbidden" to tell him. "Lass," he put a hand on her arm before she could move out into the hallway.

"Oliver," She moved her arm out of his grasp. "Don't bother. It's fine."

"Ripley," he called out as she made it to the stairs. She turned, chin held up in a stubborn manner. Wood took a breath, and pulled out the card he would have never pulled. "You're running away from this." He watched her back straighten, and her brown eyes narrow. "Y'heard me lass, don't pretend ya didn't."

"I have to go."

Remus watched Oliver from the doorway of the study, the Scotsman was pacing once more, a ball of some kind moving from hand to hand, a swift military like turn, and once more the boy headed toward the fireplace. The werewolf shook his head. Kids made love so much harder than it really was. Ripley had gone to the brief meeting, gotten her orders, and left without looking back. The way she always had. If she looked back she would regret, if she regretted something she would risk being distracted, which would in turn risk death.

Lupin took a seat in the empty armchair beside the roaring fire, and crossed his legs, waiting to be acknowledged by the Quidditch Player. He had spoken to Ripley briefly before she had left, he didn't get much out of it aside from what he had heard from the eavesdropping twins. It was something that would work itself out in time, hopefully.

Oliver knew his old teacher was there, even as he did maybe his twentieth turn in the study. He needed to think, he needed to talk to Ripley to work this out, in case she—no she wouldn't die. Hell, what did he know? He didn't even know what it was she was doing. Was she going to battle? Was she just doing some kind of reconnaissance? "Where is she?" the gruff Scottish voice asked.

"Gone."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me Remus, you know something," Wood's legs kept moving, his fists clenched.

"Yes, I know something," The werewolf admitted, blue eyes gazing into brown as Oliver finally halted. "She's leading a division."

"Where?" Oliver asked through gritted teeth.

"Oliver, you have to understand that this is her job—"

"Remus what is she doing?"

"She's invading a Death Eaters hideout."

"With how many?" The Scots question was met with silence. "Remus?"

"Three others."

"Three?"

"Wood, they're trained for this."

"Three?"

Remus stood up, put his hands on the mans shoulders, and gave him a firm shake. "Oliver, this is Ripley we're talking about, she'll be fine."

"What makes you so sure this thing doesn't get fucked to hell and back?" Wood whispered, using one of his girlfriends key phrases.

Remus looked at him. "What does your heart tell you?"

"That we better get ready for some wounded people," Oliver answered softly.