This chapter is like the Frankenstein of all my chapters. The last part was meant to be so much longer, but then it was bordering three thousand words, and I decided that was ridiculous, esepcially since it wasn't done, so this is what you get.

And guess what I'm writing this all on? My brand spankin' new laptop. That's right, it's that amazing. Love it.

Fun fact: Originally, Siren's nickname was actually going to be 'Carrie.' When this became the name of the heroine of my other series, I decided it would be too confusing for me and for my reader's, and changed the nickname to 'Siren,' since it's what she was named after the sirens anyway; in my mind, her laugh reminds me of what I think the Siren's call would be like.

I smiled into Oliver's mouth as he pulled me forcefully into his lap, my legs splaying hazardously out to the side. Gravity pulled me further into his grasp, and I couldn't bring myself to fight that too much. Hell, let's all just be honest, I couldn't fight it at all. And you all probably saw this coming, didn't you?

Well, bugger off, cause I've got the guy now and I'm kind of enjoying this moment. I'm savoring it.

Or at least I was, until the kiss suddenly turned French style; then I realized what savoring it really meant. Oliver's hands were everywhere; my hair, my hips, my waist. He was like that Hindu goddess, or maybe it was the wife of Buddha. I'm really not thinking straight, but I'm really not caring. Really, honestly, everything is just falling away, and it all seems simpler. Managable, even.

Oliver pulled away, and I groaned, "Wood, w-"

"Are you serious about this, Darling," Oliver questioned, his eyes still closed, his breath huffing against my lips. Is he fucking serious?!

"Wh-"

"Because this would be the complete opposite of helping me out if you're joking," Oliver continued, still breathing against my lips in a seriously maddening way. Can we get back to the kissing? Now!

"N-"

"I just… God, Aly, I've wanted you since before school started; I saw you at Diagon Alley, laughing and messy and covered in chocola-"

"Wood," I finally cut him off, not quite sure I wanted to hear about the first moment he knew I was the girl for him just now. He opened his eyes, still breathing against my lips happily. I smiled down at him, my hands hooking behind his head and weaving through the beginnings of his hair, "This isn't a joke."

That was all he needed to hear before he was back on me, his lips crashing against mine. My chest stuck in it's ever constant vacuum chamber, I tried to remember, of all things, what class I had next, and when it started. I wonder if Oliver would sign me a late note…

After that, my relationship with Oliver became, well, officially underwraps and the most intense combination of passion and sweetness and awkwardness that I've had the pleasure of being a part of.

We've got a system down, now, though, and that helps a lot. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I'm tutoring an 'anonymus' student in Arithmacy and Ancient Runes, according to my friends. Really, I'm with Oliver, hanging out, sometimes even getting homework done.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are friend-time, so they don't get suspicious. Then the weekends, well, they're wild cards. If we're in the mood to see each other, we find a reason; and if we don't, I hang out with my friends and Oliver… plans more Quidditch games.

So that really works out surprisingly well. What makes it awkward is when we run into each other in, say, the Great Hall, or on the lawn. Should we say hi? Should we ignore each other? How long should eye-contact last? Would it be alright if I threw up from nervousness because I just know this is all going to go very wrong very soon?

Now that's awkward.

I sighed, unreasonably content as I laid my head against my forearms, which were folded neatly underneath my head, Oliver sighing in the same exact fashion next to me, Oliver and I have been, well, it's still weird to say… we've been seeing each other for almost an entire month. I leave tomorrow afternoon for the Hogwart's Express on Christmas vacation, and in fact I have to leave in a half an hour to exchange gifts with the girls in my room.

The exchange isn't happening for an hour, but I'm leaving in a half an hour – Lord knows what will happen if I'm not there and dry and warm when they get there, not to mention I'm pretty sure they're expecting decorations. I wonder which charm to use to drum up some holly…

"Darling," Oliver questioned, using my full name. I could feel his voice through the top of my head. We'd been cuddling, or as close as cuddling as we could get without using our hands. I think Oliver's willing, but I'm so freezing and my hands are so warm pinned between my head and the blanket.

"Hmm," I questioned lazily, my eyes trained on the sky. It reminded me sickeningly of the trip to the forest, the first time we'd ever been close…

"Am I… are we going to get each other…" Oliver paused, and I risked moving to roll onto my side and look at him, a quirked eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"Christmas presents?"

Oh, I thought to myself awkwardly. Christmas presents? They made senes, but what would I get him? Broom polish? A Quidditch strategy book? I've seen his bookcase – he has every one. Or at least, every one that isn't a limited eddition, two-hundred galleon rotten one from 'back in the day.' And let's all be honest – I don't have two hundred galleons. I'm not even sure I have two galleons.

"Uh, well, I honestly wasn't thinking about it. I don't have anything, but if you want to I'm sure I can find," I felt myself start to babble, thankful for Oliver's amused laugh cutting me off.

"No, no, I just wanted to make sure."

I smiled up at him before slipping my hands into his robe, clasping them around his back and turning my head back towards the sky, "Consider this our Christmas gift to each other."

"We're giving each other the sky," Oliver questioned, obviously amused at what I was saying.

"You could look at it like that, but I was going to say body heat."

"Oh, right," Oliver replied, and I could tell he wasn't spasaming with the cold, but unadulterated laughter.

"Shut up," I complained, sliding one hand out to slap him on the chest before pulling myself against him again, "You know, you could fix this if you just used that heating spell you know."

"And ruin our Christmas gifts? I'd never dream of it," he laughed back, kissing the top of my head, "God, Darling, you're one in a million." After that, for all of thirty seconds, we lay there in relative silence before, "Am I going to see you before you leave tomorrow?"

"Don't you have to take the train," I asked, smiling and snuggling into his chest. Who knew broom polish and straw could combine to make Oliver smell even sexier?

"Well, yeah, but I figured that you'd want to spend the time with your friends. Besides, the train isn't really… private. People could walk i-"

"Doesn't mean I'm not allowed to say goodbye to my favorite professor," I replied cutely, pulling my hand forward to lightly draw circles all around Oliver's chest, which tensed at random intervals under my touch, "So I'll say I have to go to the bathroom and viola; instant twenty minutes of goodbye-time."

"Twenty minutes?"

"I never go back to places immediately after going to the bathroom – I go to the bathroom to escape, anyway," I explained easily, "I'll have twenty minutes, and an excuse if they find me wandering around the train like a lost puppy."

"Perfect," Oliver replied sarcastically, "I'll keep that in mind when you try to convince me you have to go after only a few minutes."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you feel like wondering again," Oliver replied with a certainty.

I looked up at him, a little panicked that he thought of me as some flighty looney, "Wood, you know th-"

Wood smiled as he swooped down, taking the opportunity to crash his lips effectively into mine. Is it wrong that these are quite possibly the best times I have with Wood? They're all fun and cute and intense and I don't even have to worry about being witty! I can just enjoy it and respond.

His hands found their way to my waist, clutching there like he was scared I was going to run away. It was… comforting. Like everytime he kissed me, it reminded me that he wasn't doing this on a whim – he honest to God wanted me.

Of course, it was at that moment that my wand started to burn my back pocket, and I pulled away, hissing in pain as I reached for the occult piece of wood. "What," Oliver questioned, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my eat and looking deliciously worried.

I rolled my eyes, "No, no, my wand is telling me I have to go."

"Your wand is telling you," Oliver questioned, an eyebrow raised disbelievingly.

I nodded, tapping said wand authoritively against my left middle knuckle, "Yeah. It's a spell that my brother found in an old book so he wouldn't keep missing classes. It burns at a certain time, like an alarm clock."

"Right, and where do you have to go," Wood questioned, not believing a word of what I was saying.

"Polyana with my friends," I responded, wrinkling my nose.

Wood nodded, "Are they all still fighting?"

Standing, I shook my head in the darkness, "No, no, it would ruin their Christmas cheer."

Wood shrugged as he joined me in the vertical position, wrapping his arm tightly around himself, "At least they've got their priorities in order."

I rolled my eyes at him, "I know, right? Anyway, it's my job to host it, since I have my own room and I know how to get them back without getting caught, so I've got to go set-up and wash the Wood-spit off my face."

Oliver snorted as I turned, "Thanks."

I froze, wrinkling my nose and running my hand through my hair before turning back to my boyfriend, "Hey babyyyy."

"Oh Lord," he silently cursed to himself as I stepped a little closer, "What?"

"Can I borrow a broom to fly back up to my dorm?"

Oliver's jaw dropped automatically, "Are you really that lazy?"

I nodded, pouting at him, and he sighed, "Yeah, yeah, just grab one out of my office."

"Which one," I questioned. Some of the brooms are broken, and some are just crazy. I've nearly gotten killed because I grabbed the wrong one.

"The, uh, the light blue Nimbus should be fine."

I wrinkled my nose again, this time in confusion, "Which one's a Numbus?"

Oliver's jaw dropped before he recovered, "Erm, I guess I should go with you. Just, let me clean this up." Ever the gentleman, Oliver leaned down, shaking out his dark-green blanket and picking up two thermuses.

This wasn't a date, though - Oliver and I don't go on 'dates.' They put unnecessary risk and strain on our relationship; that is, unless you count the numberless afternoons I've spent lounging in his office, basking in the simplicity of the world within the office.

We do, on the other hand, occasionally spend a few hours stargazing and sipping hot chocolate that I beg off the House Elves. Well, not really beg, but still, I have to go and ask and everything. But it's not a date, so it's no big deal.

I bit my lip as I gazed out my window into the blinding flurry of white, desperately missing Hogwarts. I bet the Pitch looks absolutely breathtaking covered in snow. In my hand, I clutched a flier that had been sent out to all Ravenclaws, a 'Christmas greeting' from Elliot, our Quidditch team's captain, reminding everyone that try-outs for a replacement beater were the night we got back and that everyone should get out there and 'give it their all.'

Of course, I should have thrown it out the moment I got the letter – it was the third I'd gotten. All Ravenclaw games had been courteously cancelled until the team could wrangle up a new beater, as the first one had been seriously injured. So far, no luck whatsoever.

But I keep the letter; it reminds me of Oliver, as geeky as that is. Christmas Eve – I've been away from school for all of a week, and I miss Oliver. Can everyone say pathetic with me? Pa-the-t….



I looked back up at my window, where I heard a tapping, and screamed as I saw a pale, bordering sickly looking face smiling at me through the snow and night. "Oliver," I screeched, trying to be as quiet as I could manage with my shock.

With a frenzied arm movement, I opened the window for him, and he tumbled in, shivering. "D-D-D-Darl-"

"Oliver, what are you doing," I screeched in my same hushed, high-picthed tone, leaving him to flinch in his shiverring fit.

"R-R-Ran into a snowstorm," He finally manged.

Unsure of what else to do, I started to peel the icy layers of clothing off him, gaping, "Why the hell did you fly to see me in a snow storm?"

He couldn't bring himself to answer me as I tore off his sweater, almost dieing at the sight of a much-too-tight T-shirt underneath it. Why doesn't he wear those at school? Getting with him would have been so much easier.

Almost unsure, I reached forward, like I had to be sure there was no clothing, or plastic inflatable set of muscles, underneath, but right before I could make contact he shivered, and I remembered what I was supposed to be doing.

Reachiing for my wand on my bedside table, I pointed it at my fireplace dutifully, "Incendio." A fire popped up, and I stood to try and find a swearshirt of mine that might fit my boyfriend. I think I have some old things of Jay's…. "Here," I offered, throwing him a large 'Cudly Cannons' T-shirt. I don't know how he'll feel about that.

His lips regaining color, Oliver pulled on the sweatshirt without seeming to realize what he was doing. He must have nearly died out there. He looked up at me with a shakey smile, "Thanks."

I smiled as I sat beside him in front of the fire, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his head forcefully into my lap; I'll make him get better before my father comes up to say goodnight or else, "Not a problem, now what were you doing?"

"I had to see you," Oliver muttered, turning and watching the flames dance and warm him. If only I could remember how to do that damn hot-air charm. But it's too risky – Oliver's clothing could start to do the polka if I do it wrong.

"Why? It's Christmas Eve, shouldn't you be with your family?"

Wood shook his head, mumbling something about time off, before he looked back up at me, "'Sides, I had to give you your present."

Ignoring the first, mumbled part completely, my jaw dropped, "We said no presents!"

Oliver smiled, "I know – this is for our one-month anniversary."