Oliver Wood and the Muggleborn's Wand
Chapter 9
Alhazred - ssjDOTalhazredATgmailDOTcom - alhazredDOTlivejournalDOTcom
Not For Profit work. Harry Potter and related materials © J.K. Rowling.

"Okay, now, turn the...yep, that should about do it..."

Parallel parking was interesting, to say the least, but Oliver didn't think Muggle driving was as hard as it was cracked up to be. He supposed it was a sign of Quidditch showing its presence again; keeping track of everything on the road wasn't so different than keeping track of everything in the pitch. On top of that, it was certainly less stressful than being in combat.

Granted, when they first started hours ago, Conner had been in the front passenger's seat and Oliver had been having trouble getting a handle on putting pressure down on the gas pedal. There'd been a lot of lurching. Followed by Conner bailing into the back and perpetually hanging onto the handle over the window, leaving Jessica to ride shotgun.

All in all, though, Oliver thought he was doing a good job. The major difference between a car and a broom, other than the lack of flight, was having to deal with controls. Once he got used to that, things became easier. "You think I'm ready for the test, then?"

Leaning forward between the front seats, Conner said, "How many wheels are on a bicycle?"

"Uh, two?" Oliver blinked. He really wasn't all that sure. It was hard enough keeping track of everything on a car, let alone unpowered Muggle contraptions.

Adding "Yeah, I'd say you're set," Conner ducked back when Jessica moved to smack him.

"Well, now that the crash course is done," Jessica said, "And I don't mean that literally...anyone up for a drink? Preferably without the nutter-ex this time?"

She spared Oliver the slightest glance, although Conner's reaction was much more surprised. When he spoke up, rather shocked, Jessica looked like she wished she hadn't said anything in front of him. "Nutter-ex? Ollie's got a nutter-ex, or is this Dave we're talking about?"

He was quite prepared to cover for her, but she didn't feel the need to hide anything. She also sounded very exasperated. "No, no, we're talking about David, we ran into him the other day, it wasn't pleasant, you know the story..."

"Fucking hell, I know the story," Conner sat back with a great thump against the seat, raising his voice to be clearly heard. "What did he do this time? Take a swing at you in public?"

"Conner!" She turned, glaring at him. Fairly certain that there was more to this story than he knew at this point, Oliver watched silently as she kept going. "No, he just made a scene, is all."

It wasn't hard for Oliver to put two-and-two together. It was a shocking revelation for him; he hadn't been expecting this to go somewhere worse than what he'd seen at the King's Head. "But...has he hit you?"

Rolling her eyes, Jessica didn't seem like she was remembering traumatic physical abuse, but she didn't seem very proud of herself, either. She said nothing, leaving Conner to fill in the blank. "He tried."

"He missed," she chuckled. The laugh was genuine. "He's really just a sad poser. Thinks he's all that."

Growing indignant, Conner added, "Didn't think he was all that when I decked him for trying. Stupid git never thinks anyone around him might not take kindly to his bull."

Oliver understood why Jessica was so close to Conner. He and Katie had helped each other in battle on numerous occasions over the last year, and once had been enough to tighten their relationship. "Huh. No wonder it was easy to stare him down. Or rather, stare him up."

For a second, Oliver was worried his attempt at a joke hadn't gone over well, but they both laughed in the end. Even if they were only humoring him, it was alright. Lame jokes became funnier as they drank more, anyway.

Eventually, though, Oliver switched to water. It didn't go unnoticed by Conner. "You the one Scotsman in a thousand who can't hold his liquer well, eh?"

"Nah," Oliver gave him a good leer. "But I do have practice in the morning."

"Yeah, and I need to drive us home," Jessica added. She shoved her half-empty mug towards the center of their table. "Better quit myself."

Feeling awkward being the only one without a reason to stop drinking, Conner followed her lead. "Both sadly logical excuses. Wouldn't want to throw the Curling Stone at someone by accident, right?"

Curling has stones? Oliver thought. What kind of sport was it, anyway? Besides, he wasn't a Beater, he was a Chaser, and he tugged the bottom of his shirt up over his abdomen to prove it. His right side was a nice shade of purple. "Like I need to. Bludgers take enough chunks out of us."

Apparently surprised, Jessica stared at the sizeable bruise in near-shock. "Whoa. What's Curling turned into over the last few years, anyway?"

Hearing the word 'Curling' again made Oliver realize he'd slipped up, and he quickly dropped his shirt. "Well, you know, everything's more intense these days." He was nursing his glass of water like it was booze, a far-away look in his eyes. He knew it was mostly the alcohol, that it would probably go away once he came down from the buzz, but he couldn't help but think of Katie. They hadn't gone to a pub together more times than he could count on his fingers, but he was just out of his right mind enough to start making connections with everything. He couldn't stop staring at Jessica's hair, to the point where he rested his arms on the table and his chin on top of them.

She eventually gave him a weird look over it. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just," he stopped cold. Should he say something? Would it feel better to talk about it? Even to friends he hadn't known long, to Muggles he couldn't talk about the war with?

Jessica was reading his mind, it seemed. "Is this about..."

He knew she trailed off on purpose, and he appreciated the courtesy, but he went ahead. "You have her...my fiance, I mean. You have her hair."

Conner, having not been there when he'd mentioned something about Katie, wasn't afraid to show his confusion at a man comparing a friend to his own fiancée for seemingly no reason. "Well...that's kind of a creepy thing to see in someone, Ollie..."

Oliver could tell Jessica had smacked his leg under the table, but it wasn't his fault, he didn't know. Unable to stop, Oliver said, "She died...my fiancée, I mean. She was...right in front of me. It...wasn't an accident." Much as he hated to admit it, the sheer amount of pity in their faces felt good. Feeling like he'd gone far too long keeping the memory of that night as his own to deal with, Oliver couldn't turn down an outlet. He was still staring at Jessica, though. "And I just...I know it's stupid and...weird, I just can't help thinking about her..."

Conner, for his part, was more dumbstruck than Jessica was. That, plus the alcohol, led to his latest attack of tactlessness. "What happened?"

She smacked him again. Oliver, for his part, didn't mind all that much. It was natural to be curious, and it wasn't like it was something one heard every day. Or even every other day. He wished he could tell them the truth, if for no other reason than he hated lying after bearing his broken soul and being given compassion for it. Still, there was no exception in the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy for such things, only for necessary defense. Oliver's life was hardly in danger; his mental health, possibly, but not his life.

He knew what to say already, though...the Wizard's Guide to Muggle Living had advice for Muggle substitutes to wizarding problems. "It's alright...she, um...crazy guy with a gun, just...just that."

He really wasn't trying to tell the lie and move on, he just couldn't think of anything to add. Even knowing it'd been the Killing Curse in the middle of a war, he couldn't shake the feeling of how pointless it was.

"Well." Conner summarily gave up on his 'no more booze' rule for the night, and went for his still half-full mug. "I'll just shut my bloody mouth, now."

"S'alright," Oliver said. He was tempted to go back to the beer himself, but he fought the urge. No, he hadn't worked so hard to get where he was to even have one moment of weakness with something like that. Kate would smack me upside the head. "Talking's part of the healing process, right?"

He wondered if they knew he was asking them, because he certainly didn't feel better yet. Watching Jessica grab for her cell phone and turn it off, Oliver recognized the look on her face, it was the same face he wore every time his parents tried to call. He knew David had been calling her off and on since their little incident, and it was aggravating her to no end. She didn't have a problem vocalizing this. "Damned...you'd think he's watching me to pick the worst times to harass me at."

Wondering if she might be on to something, Oliver scanned the bar, looking for him. He wasn't there, but he wouldn't have been surprised either way. Life was weird like that.

For his part, Conner took the chance to maneuver out of the conversation that had made him incredibly self-conscious. "I'm telling you...get a restraining order on the guy. Let him get tossed in jail. It'll give him a reality check right-quick."

Looking unsure, Jessica seemed unable to escape the age-old feeling that the bad, potentially serious problem would go away if she just ignored it. "Maybe. I'll...think about it."

Wondering how Muggle restraining orders worked, Oliver thought about how hard it might be to shrewdly lay a jinx on it. Nothing too serious, just something with physical effects if it were violated. "Hey...if that doesn't work...just punch the guy."

The other two stared at him, and, after a short time, the staring turned into laughter. Oliver felt like this was home.