A/N: This story has been rewritten. If you have not started at Chapter 1, please do!

Chapter Four
Whatever You Want
…he half smiles as if to say, whatever you want…

I stomped into the apartment, kicking rain off of my boots. Today had not been the best day. It was the week before Hogwarts' students' departure, and Flourish & Blott's had been a madhouse. I had been spattered with ink, beaten about the head by a few over-excited owls, my feet trodden on by a variety of first-years, and my hand crushed by an irate Snapping Anthology of Snapdragons.

On top of that, I was PMSing and hormonal, and generally pissed at the world. I dropped my bag to the floor and flopped onto the couch. Ugh.

The door opened and closed behind me.

"Bad day?"

"You've no idea."

"Mmm." He walked over and raised an eyebrow, looking over me. "Come on,"

"What?" But before I could react, Oliver had scooped me up into his arms. "Bah! Ollie! Put me down!"

I could feel his chest rumbling with laughter as he held me closer, carrying me effortlessly into my bedroom. "So," he huffed, dropping me onto my bed and jumping on next to me. "What happened?"

"I quit my job."

"You what?" Oliver sat up sharply, staring at me.

"Yeah." I rolled away. "I know."

"No – no, I mean – I don't care. I can pay the whole rent, I just mean… why?"

"Don't say that. I don't know. Bad day. Got sick of it. Everything."

"Don't say what?"

"That you can pay - I'll pay my half, I will."

"No – Kat, I mean. I make more than enough – really."

"No! No… I understand that. I… I just… I feel so…so…useless, Oliver! You're out there being all quidditchy and earning tons of cash and all that jazz, and I'm here being useless and lazing about and watching TV and now I don't even have a job-"

Oliver blinked at me.

"1. Quidditchy? Is that a word? And 2." He smiled slightly. "You're not useless. You're so much more talented than me-"

I snorted. "No, I'm not! I am useless – now I'm not even paying you rent? It's like I'm a terrible housewife, without the romance!" I frowned. "…and the ability to cook." I added, as an afterthought.

"Hm."

"Well-" he starts.

Angelina's words have been rushing through my mind all day, along with the bitter words reminding me how much Oliver does with his time, how much he must hate me-

I sat up, suddenly, just as Oliver turned to me. Crack! I hit Oliver smack in the forehead, an earth-shattering blow. "Augh-" I gasp out, just before falling back under his weight. "Ihateyou," he mumbles into my shoulder. Even with the killer pain in my forehead, and the fact that a 200-something 6'3" bloke is lying on top of me, I can still appreciate that said bloke is Oliver, and that this is a rather agreeable position.

He's very warm, I reflect, as Oliver pushes his face deeper into my shoulder, which is awfully nice, really, albeit very distracting. The pain in my head is starting to decrease. Lovely. "Ok, Ollie, sweetie?" I whisper, running out of air. "I love you and all that, but you're – ow - kinda crushing me." No response. Hmm.

"Ugh-" I shoved, hard, rolling him off of me and – "Whoa-" he caught my leg and whipped me round, until I landed heavily on his stomach, laughing into his shocked eyes. His very entrancing, very deep, hazel eyes.

…

I am so far gone.

We both froze, me in response to his stunning eyes, him in response to whatever happens in his world, and his hand tightened on my leg. He stared up at me in shock. A peal of laughter spilled out of my throat, and I giggled into his neck. "Bahaha – oh, Ollie. I'm sorry, but the look on your face-" Then of course, it hits me, as he awkwardly averts his eyes and his hands leave my legs. I'm straddling Oliver Wood. Ah. Ok then.

"Well,"

"Yeah…"

I carefully disentangled myself, and stepping off the bed, offered him a hand.

"So," he began a strange little smile quirking his lip, "Missed me, then?" He started to laugh, looking down at me. I rolled my eyes.

"You're a prat, Wood. Always have been, always will be."

"Ah, but I'm your favorite prat, aren't I?"

"Always have been, always will be."

He smiled a bittersweet smile.

"Good to know. Anyways, want some tea?" He said, rather abruptly. I blinked in surprise, watching his retreating back. Oh, Oliver.

xoxox

"Ok," I began, slipping into the kitchen after Oliver. "My- I- What I thought- OLIVER! You're not listening to me!"

He spun round, looking guilty. Hot water flew out of his teacup. I ducked, fast. "Still have your quidditch reflexes, I see," He cocked his head, peering over the top of the counter. I glared at him from my spot on the floor. "No kidding. It's not like I had them drilled into me for five years by a tyrant of a coach." He nodded sagely. "Of course not." He turned to refill his teacup. "Much of a prince you are." I muttered in annoyance, hoisting myself off the ground. "So," he began, turning to hand me a cup of tea. "What's up?"

"I had an idea. It's kinda funny we didn't think of it before...aha..." He stared at me.

"Spit it out." He froze, suddenly, a thought striking him. "You're not planning to be... like... a prostitute or something, are you? 'Cause that's not okay. For the record. Really not okay." I stared at him in disbelief. "BAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA...Ollie, you're hilarious... you're... you're... you're actually serious. Oh my. Um, no. Not at all. Actually, I was thinking of trying out for the Magical Law Enforcement Squad."

"Oh, that's different-wait. What?"

I blinked.

"Magical La-"

"Yes, yes, I heard you. No way. Too dangerous." He crossed his arms, face suddenly closed and firm.

I beg your pardon? Really, Ol? You want to go there?

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mum." I glared. "Oliver, I fought in a war, I survived said war. I can handle criminals. Just because I've been content to be a lazy bum and sit on my arse here in your fancy apartment doesn't mean it's what I want to do with my life! I want to do something, Ol! And you saying something's 'dangerous,'" I put on a sing-song tone for the word, "has never stopped me before." I glared up at him. "Get it?"

"I don't like it." he mumbled, avoiding my gaze. "That's too bad, because, whether you like it or not, I'm going to try for this job, with or without your 'permission'." He sighed and met my gaze, full of concern. "Fine." he said, reluctantly, "But you get so much as a scratch on you and I'm pulling you out. Geddit?" I sighed.

"I've got it."

Rewritten & updated! Please R&R! =]
Whatever You Want – Vienna Teng