Settling the Score

The Seeker Doth Protest Too Much Methinks

"…still can't believe you attacked me," Alicia was muttering, still in the process of combing out her pretty blonde curls after I'd considerably ruffled them up earlier that day. Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she kept sending cutting little glares in my direction, shamelessly exaggerating the bruise on her arm. "Of all the crude, cavemen like things to do…"

"You'll get over it," I responded flatly, in an inexplicably edgy mood. Actually, it wasn't inexplicable at all—it made perfect sense. You see, generally when one has to dream up a way to tell one's insufferable best mates that one might've accidentally snogged one's evil ex-Quidditch Captain, one gets fucking irritated.

"Yeah? Try telling me that when I die of internal bleeding," she snapped, ever the hypochondriac.

Should I just come out and say it? Pull an Alicia and be up-front and blunt about it, pretending it didn't matter? I mean, not that it did or anything—it was just a stupid ploy.

"Oh, wait—you won't be able to, seeing as I'll be dead."

"Oh, shut up already, Spinnet," Angelina tossed out, tone bored as she lounged back on her bed, knitting needles abandoned beside her. She was staring at the canopy with a rather pensive expression—something she'd come to do a lot ever since she'd started dating Fred. It was nice, seeing her letting loose and wasting time for a change. Usually, every moment had to be marked by some sort of productivity for her, but lately, she seemed perfectly fine with just kicking back and relaxing. They were brilliant for each other, those two—I think I actually saw Fred doing a homework assignment the other day.

"Go suck up to a professor," Alicia snapped in response.

"Go stalk a gay bloke," Angelina retorted easily.

Alicia inhaled sharply, expression wildly dramatic. "I do not stalk Sebastian."

Maybe I should explain the situation to them first—you know, tell them exactly what was going on? The snog would make a hell of a lot more sense if they understood it was purely to keep me quiet, and it would probably eliminate a lot of squealing on Katie's part… but still, I feel like they'd get it wrong. Goddamnit.

"Oh, please, Ally—you treat every article he writes in that damn newspaper like it's the sodding gospel," Katie, who up to this point had been far too immersed in Pride and Prejudice to show any vocal capacity, chimed in.

"The Weekly Wobbler is not just some 'damn newspaper'—it's really prestigious! And he's incredibly talented!"

"No, you're just incredibly impressionable—I mean, really, legalizing Cornish pixie dust? Honestly."

"You lot just aren't open-minded enough to understand how beautiful of a person he is."

"Or we're just too rational to buy into that bollocks."

I could try to make a joke of it—you know, show that it all meant absolutely positively 100% nothing to either of us? 'Did you hear the one about Wood and I snogging in a broom closet? Side-splitter, that one!' I sighed in frustration—stupid idea.

"Well, we obviously have two very different ideas of what 'bollocks' is."

"Yeah, and yours is bollocks."

"That's just semantics, Katie!"

"Oh, you and your bloody semantics…"

"Regardless."

Maybe if I just casually mentioned it to each of them individually, I wouldn't have to deal with a big, melodramatic confrontation from all three at once. They were a ganging-up prone lot, though, so they'd probably find a way to corner me at one point or another…

"I just think that you should take his ideas with a grain of salt, Alicia."

"I do! I don't just lap up everything he says—I don't worship him or anything."

"And I quote, 'He's just such a beautiful person'…"

"That doesn't mean I worship him, I just find beauty in idiosyncratic and anomalous things!"

"Oh, ple—"

"I kissed Wood," I finally blurted out.

Simple as that.

No interlude, no preamble, no postscript, nothing. Just a simple, straight-forward 'I. Kissed. Wood.'

Good plan, right?

Wrong.

A silence quieter than I've ever heard in my entire life fell over the room. It wasn't a sudden silence, either—everything had slowly drawn to a halt. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia seemed to have completely frozen, their petty quarrel forgotten.

Well. This was fun.

Wordless tension seeped into the room, suspending itself right around me. I couldn't really bring myself to look at their faces right now; the last thing I wanted to see was a slew of gobsmacked expressions. My skin itched with irritation at the idea, annoyed with the fact that they couldn't see the event for what it was: fake. Totally and completely meaningless. Not even worth a second thought.

Somewhere, deep down, I knew I was getting a bit defensive, but I couldn't help my annoyance. Their inevitable shock made the whole scenario a hell of a lot more real, and that was hard to deal with when I was set on believing that it wasn't real at all. Granted, I knew I was being rather unfair—I hadn't properly explained the situation or anything. I couldn't expect them to recognize it for the joke that it is unless they knew the circumstances. Obviously they have every right to be shocked. I mean, honestly, who on earth would've ever, in a million years seen this comi—

"Oh, piss."

"Ten galleons each, please!"

"Don't be such a cow, Alicia."

"No one likes a sore loser, Kats."

"I was one sodding week off—Katie was months, and we still have to pay the same?"

"A bet's a bet, darling dears. This is brilliant—on Hogsmeade weekend, too."

I blinked a few times, instantly confused by the easy, casual nature of their voices—had they not registered what I'd just said? I glanced around to see Alicia grinning smugly, beckoning with her hand for Katie and Angelina to square their mysterious debts. My glower crumpled into a look of confusion—what the bloody hell?

"You couldn't have held it off for four more days?" Angelina grumbled, shooting me a disgruntled look as she dug into her wallet. I fumbled for words for a moment, eyes burning with disorientation.

"Held off what?" I was suddenly more annoyed than before. I mean, I know I said that last thing I wanted was some big, melodramatic moment of shock, but honestly, they were treating my earth-shattering announcement like the local weather report. I mean, yeah, the kiss didn't mean anything, but it still had to be one of the most unexpected turn of events—

"Snogging Wood," Angelina snapped, sifting through her coins with a distinctly annoyed air. "I mean, we knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but if you'd just resisted a little sodding longer, I would've had enough pocket change to get those shoes on display at Genevieve's."

"Oh, you mean the red stilettos with the little bow things?" Katie clarified, tone relaxed and conversational as she flopped back into her armchair, having carelessly dumped her galleons all over Alicia's bed. "Those were adorable."

"I know," Angelina muttered, shooting me yet another annoyed look as she dragged herself over to Alicia's bed. "And thanks to that one's lack of self-control, they won't be on my feet anytime soon—I really think the broom-closet scenario made this horribly unfair."

"Agreed—we made our predictions way before that was even in the picture," Katie pointed out.

"Well, that'll teach you to have a bit of foresight next time," Alicia trilled, offhandedly catching sight of my expression and grinning. "Oh, right—thanks for being a whore, Andy."

I was honestly flabbergasted. Completely and thoroughly flabbergasted. In any other scenario, I'd probably contemplate how fucking weird the word 'flabbergasted' was, but today, I had bigger issues.

"You three… made a bet?"

Angelina raised a brow, expression clearly implying 'Um, duh.' Alicia cocked her head to the side, eyes crinkled in contemplation. "D'ya reckon getting snogged senseless makes you stupider?"

Katie nodded, munching contently on a licorice wand. "I'm starting to think so—every time Angelina gets back from 'studying' with Fred, her IQ's in the negatives."

"Is not!"

"Yesterday in Astronomy, you asked me where earth was."

"When did you make a bet?" I demanded, voice growing angrier with every second of dawning realization. These three… these three were just… bloody hell, they were un-sodding-believable! First I'm kidnapped, then I'm locked into a broom closet, and now this?

"Around the time when Alicia caught you straddling Wood on your bed," Katie responded, chewing mindlessly.

"WHAT!?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't remember in vivid detail," Alicia tutted, rolling her eyes. "I walked in on you, you were supposedly fighting over some diary, blah, blah, blah, insert sexual tension here…"

"Alicia, that was not—"

"Save it, Andy, I saw it with my own eyes," the blonde interjected, absently chewing on her nail. "Oi, does anyone have a nail file?"

"Oh, I saw one somewhere…"

"Check in that drawer—"

"STOP!" I bellowed, overwhelmed with the need to be taken seriously—I felt like I was in a parallel sodding universe, here! There were treating this like it was no big deal at all, like they'd seen it coming for ages and it was 'about time'. When three faces turned to look at me, finally falling silent, I let out a frustrated breath. "Just… let me explain," I managed, holding my palms up to keep them from interrupting. "The kiss didn't mean anything."

Angelina snorted, Alicia rolled her eyes, and Katie hid a wry smile.

"No, honestly, it was purely strategic," I argued further, my irritation evident. "Wood just… needed a way to keep me quiet so Filch wouldn't hear and suspend him from the Quidditch final."

Angelina's eyes suddenly widened, her knitting coming to a halt. "You mean that Silencing charm didn't work? I spent three hours mastering that stupid spell! Merlin, I told you to do it, Kats, you're better at Char—"

"No, no, it worked," I assured, interrupting her rant, "it definitely worked, but neither of us knew about it, so Wood resorted to…" I momentarily blanked at the memory, my train of thought instantly replaced by the scorching feeling of his lips on mine, his hands sliding up my waist, my fingers in his hair…

Alicia arched a brow. "Snogging you."

I blinked a few times, refocusing my gaze. "Right."

Angelina snorted at this, rolling her eyes. "And the idea of just covering your mouth with his hand entirely slipped his mind?"

My gaze flattened. "No, actually—he tried that. It just… wasn't very effective."

"What'd you do, bite him?" Katie asked, laughter in her tone.

"Something like that…"

Alicia smirked. "Kinky."

I tossed her a glare, wondering if it was healthy to contemplate murdering my best mates so often. However, despite my irritation, I couldn't get my thoughts to entirely refocus back to the present. With every aspect of last night I retold, the memory would come flooding back—the heat, the dark amber stare, the rakish half-smile. It was kind of hard to focus on anything else.

"So, after a good bit of sexually charged struggling, he just damned it all to hell and snogged you senseless," Katie sighed, the tone in her voice predictably romanticizing the whole thing.

My stare darkened, though again, the feeling of his fingers angling my chin, his eyes burning angrily, the roughness of his voice right before his kissed me—all of it momentarily took over. Caught in the feeling, my ears sort of hummed, dimming reality as his molten eyes grew brighter, clearer. 'You want unpredictable, Wiles?'

"Andy?"

"Yeah, yeah—definitely," I answered automatically, shaking myself out of the memory. It was only when I was met with three extremely smug, suggestive smirks that I balked. "Wait, what?"

"I asked you if his snogs are as ridiculously hot as he is," Alicia clarified, lips curled upward.

My glare flattened as I contextualized my answer, realizing what I'd just admitted to. Scratch that—not admitted, ew. That makes it sound like it's true.

"Nothing about Wood is ridiculously hot," I settled with instead, defiance edging my voice. Except for, you know, his body, which I guess some people could consider, fit. And I suppose his smile isn't exactly horrible, either, if you're into that cocky sort of thing. And his accent—

"Oliver is bloody fit as hell, Andy—he may be our captain, and we may not see him that way, but there's no denying that," Angelina attested, very matter-of-fact. "Fit is fit. I don't think there's a single one of us who didn't have a huge crush on him when we first joined the team."

Katie snorted. "I know that's right—took me weeks to be able to look him in the eye without stuttering. Crazy how that changes, isn't it?"

Alicia nodded, grimacing. "Gorgeous as he is, he's turned into such a brother figure over the years—we just don't have that spark."

"Same. Pity, isn't it?" Angelina sighed, lips curved at the corners as Katie nodded, wistful.

I stared at them, perplexed. Did they really all feel so comfortable with him? So… sibling-like? Never in my six years of knowing him was there a moment that wasn't charged with tension. With him, it was a constant battle to outdo each other: to get under the other's skin skin, make the other bristle, get the best of each other—make each other mad. It was the infuriating truth of it all, and yet here were three of my best mates, chatting about him like some protective older brother.

"With this stubborn cow, however," Alicia continued from earlier, eyes snapping over to indicate me, "he doesn't just have a spark—he has a whole bloody lightning storm."

Katie sighed longingly, sinking deep into her armchair. "God, that's so unfair. You're the Angelina to his Fred."

Angelina rolled her eyes at that, fighting back a smile. "Cute, Katie."

Honestly, these three are delusional. Completely and totally delusional. They mistake hatred for attraction, bickering for flirting, I-want-to-strangle-you looks for I-want-to-shag-you looks—all around delusional. "Okay, guys, really—get serious. The only reason Wood isn't a big brother to me is because he's too much of a dick, and I refuse to think of that as inherent in my gene pool; the only way there'd ever be a spark between us is if I electrocuted him; and the day he get's as reckless as Fred and I get as responsible as Angelina, thus making us perfect for each other, is the day hell hosts the Winter Olympics. Understand?"

Katie merely buried herself back into her book, murmuring something that sounded dangerously like, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks…"

Angelina subtly went back to her knitting, also murmuring slyly, "The first step is denial…"

Alicia's lips curled promiscuously. She didn't even bother to mutter anything under her breath or look away—she stared dead on, smirking. "The last step is shagging in an abandoned classroom." Subtlety was never her forte.

I rolled my eyes, wrenching the hair tie off my wrist and pulling my hair into a tight bun. "You know what? I'm just going to go for a run—fresh air seems like better company than you three."

"Kay."

"Later."

"Bye."

I merely shook my head, grabbing my trainers off the floor as I headed for the doorway. Hell, a hippogriff sounded like better company than those three. At least they couldn't second-guess your every word. As I headed down the stairs, slight scowl on my face, a familiar, tinkling little laugh met my ears. It was one that instinctively made my scowl deepen, for it to belonged to a pointy-faced, blonde haired bint that just so happened to be Gryffindor's new Seeker.

"He's so horrible—Oliver, tell them what you told the poor girl," Fiona trilled, voice delighted. Skin prickling at the name, I glanced over to the center of the common room. Fiona, Wood, and a few other seventh years were sprawled along the couches, talking and laughing around the fire. Fiona had her hand on Wood's forearm as she spoke to him, hazel eyes glittering. He merely lolled his head back on the couch, roguish grin on his lips. "I didn't tell her anything…"

"Oh, please," Fiona responded, turning to face the rest of the group, manicured fingers still perched on Wood's arm, "he told her that he was a figment of her imagination!"

The group started chuckling at the story, which seemed rather stupid in my completely unbiased opinion, though my gaze was riveted on Fiona's hand. It was pale and ivory, contrasting starkly against Wood's tan, smooth skin. It looked decidedly out of place in my once again completely unbiased opinion, though before I could look away, a rowdy voice called my name.

"Oi, Andy!"

My stare shot up, rocketing away from Wood as fast as humanly possible and landing on Gabriel Harris, a scruffy bloke from my Arithmancy class. We'd been assigned partners for two years in the class, and we got on amazingly well—he was a hysterical guy. "Alright, Gabe?" I asked, mustering a smile as I made my way down the stairs. I could feel Wood's gaze on me, along with Fiona's, along with everyone's, for that matter.

"No, I'm actually devastated," he griped, expression melodramatic. "I'm missing my Arithmancy whiz—you haven't been in class since Wednesday. Vector speaks and I look to my left for a translation, and all I see is blank space."

I grinned despite myself: Gabe really was a disaster at Arithmancy. "There's this earth-shattering thing called a book, Harris—dig around somewhere under your bed and you might actually be able find it. Blow off the dust and read."

His lips twisted into a grin. "How about we meet up at the Three Broomsticks and you casually slip me the answers to the study guide?"

I snorted, eyes veering into a roll—he didn't even try to disguise his desire to cheat, he just put it right out there. "Gabe, sooner or later, you're going to have to actually learn Arithmancy. Make it sooner—go study."

Angelina would be proud.

Some of his friends 'ohhh'ed, making my grin widen as I shook my head, reaching the bottom of the stairs. "You're a heartbreaker, Andy Wiles!" he called from behind me, voice rich with humor. I glanced over my shoulder to send him a final smile, raising my hand to wave, though instead of meeting playful green eyes, I met hazy amber. Wood's stare was curious as it held mine, lips curved ever so slightly at the corners. His dark brows were drawn together over his face, and he seemed vaguely… amused.

Beside him, Fiona's stare was crystal blue and cutting. Subtle, but cutting. It averted the moment I met it, fixing instead on Wood's mildly curious expression. Facially, she didn't react, but her hand subtly slipped from his arm to his knee. "Oliver, did you ever make that list of new feints for me to try?" she asked, the picture of cool innocence. My blood sparked into a simmer—of course she would mention Quidditch. "Because I was watching some of the Gryffindor tapes from last season, and I think I can take it up a few notches. Less blind luck, more precision, you know?"

My jaw nearly dropped in outrage—was she joking? That was a direct attack on me. That bint! She couldn't have pulled off half the bloody feints I had!

Coolly, her eyes met mine, frosty ice on burning fire. Unable to do anything but scowl at the cattiness emitting from her, I swallowed my retort, composing myself. This wasn't like a fight with Wood, where I could yell any snappy reply that came to mind and be done with it, this was more… delicate. Refined. The most cutting reply would be silence. God, I hate being a girl.

Gathering my wits, I simply swiveled about, catching a final glimpse of Wood's clearly entertained expression before stalking off. The run that followed was long and hard. Originally, I'd planned something somewhat short and light—nothing more than a few miles of fresh air to clear my head. After my little run-in with Fiona, however, seven and a half miles of hard, steady jogging ensued—thoughtless, frustration-driven jogging that got my heart pounding and put my racing mind on standby.

Hence, when I waltzed back into the Common Room a few hours later, I was tired and only slightly less irritable. My dark curls were in utter disarray, my cheeks were prickled with blush from the cold, and my questions and frustrations were still just as answered as before. This was why, when I spotted Wood leaning against the railing of the Girl's stairwell, my immediate reaction was to scowl. Well, actually, that's a lie—my heartbeat actually got a bit erratic first, and then I scowled. What the hell was he doing there? It was one in the sodding morning on a Sunday.

His expression was bemused as I approached the stairway. "What did you do, hike the Forbidden Forest? You were gone for hours."

My brow furrowed, gaze annoyed. "You were counting?"

"Kind of."

"That's not creepy or anything."

He rolled his eyes. "I needed to talk to you."

I came to halt at the base of the stairs, crossing my arms as I stood before him. "Well?" This better not be about what happened in the broom-closet—I swear to Merlin, if this is about what happened in the broom-closet—

"So, about what happened in the broom-closet…"

My gaze flattened, heat rising in my cheeks. Of course. "Look, you don't have to explain, I get it."

His gaze flickered with surprise, brow arching over his slight frown. "Really?"

"Yeah, it was obvious," I said, feeling decidedly uncomfortable in the awkward situation.

His gaze was oddly skeptical as it held mine, and he slowly eased back against the railing, arms folding across his chest. "Explain it to me, then."

My eyes narrowed—he thought I didn't realize it had meant nothing. Merlin, what a prick; I'm not that stupid. "Well, I was yelling, you needed a way to shut me up," I stated simply, eyes hard-edged as his lips twitched.

Were was this constant sodding amusement suddenly coming from?

"I'm not as thick as you think, Wood—I didn't go off swooning thinking it was real," I snapped, defensive. "I know you assume that because I, you know, kissed you back, I thought the whole thing actually meant something, but I didn't. I just… well, I don't know, really, but I do know that you don't have to explain it to me."

His eyes held mine, seemingly caught between a mixture of wryness and cynicism. He was watching me like I was a puzzling, mildly intriguing television show, and I wasn't particularly enjoying it. "What?"

"You're sure about this," he affirmed, raising a brow.

"Completely."

"One-hundred percent?"

"One-hundred percent."

"Not even entertaining any other theories?"

"None."

If he really thought I was going to stand there and tell him, 'Actually, I couldn't manage a single coherent thought after that bloody snog, so maybe there was a bit more to the whole thing'—he was sorely mistaken. If anything, it would just boost his ego, and Merlin knows that was the last thing he needed.

After a quiet moment, his lips curled into a half-smile. "Well, that makes this conversation a hell of a lot easier."

For some reason, something clenched within me. "Happy to help," I replied, unable to shake off the feeling of finality—hearing it confirmed by him just made the truth of it all a bit… harsher.

"Friends?"

I snorted, shaking myself out of the tense feeling. "Hardly."

"People who occasionally tolerate each other?"

"Better."

Smirking slightly, he held out his hand, offering a truce of sorts. Rolling my eyes briefly, I took it, preparing to shake it—though I was roughly cut off as he tugged me forward, pulling me against him. Before I could say anything, his lips had captured mine, this kiss considerably softer and lighter than the last. I was a bit too shocked to respond at first, not expecting a snog of all things after that particular conversation, though my eyes eventually fluttered close, my lips carelessly giving in to his.

It only lasted for a few, fleeting moments before he slowly pulled away, eyes meeting with mine. I didn't need a mirror to tell me the expression my gaze held: perplexed, hazy, a bit dazed, even. His, however, looked perfectly calm and controlled—slightly amused, even.

"I… we… people who occasionally tolerate each other don't generally do that…" was all I managed to convey, still a bit intoxicated by his proximity.

His lips curled at the ends, expression cryptic. "No," he agreed, shaking his head. "No, they don't."

Well, great. Now that that's settled.

After a few more moments, he lowered his lips yet again, though this time they brushed against my forehead instead, kiss simple and featherlight. "Goodnight, Wiles."

With that, he let go of my hand, backing away and heading toward the stairway to the blokes' rooms. I stared at him the entire way, utterly and completely confused. What the hell was that supposed to mean? This very sentiment echoed through my thoughts as I silently crawled into my bed, my mind racing with even more bloody questions than it had been entertaining before. Was he playing some sort of game or something? Was I some pawn he was having a jolly good time toying around with, or was he being serious?

I hated not knowing any of this, and for that reason, I merely sighed, turning over beneath my sheets with a grumble. However, something crinkled noisily beneath me, and I frowned, fishing beneath the torrent of sheets for the offending object. My fingers curved over something small and flat—a paper of sorts, and I squinted in the dim moonlight as I brought it up to my face. I scowled almost instantaneously. Those bints. Of course they would put it on my pillow.

Growling something mildly profane, I stared at the caption on the Polaroid—'Get it! Rawr!' My eyes rolled briefly, lowering to the actual picture. The moment captured by Katie's handy little camera was an incredibly rare one—Wood and I, completely at peace, asleep in each other's arms. My expression couldn't help but soften as my gaze ran over the photo. I was curled up against his side, my head resting on the curve of his shoulder, his head resting atop mine. My hand was strewn carelessly over his stomach, fingers loose and relaxed, whereas his arm was draped protectively across my waist. It was uncanny, how deceitful a picture could be. In that little snapshot, we looked like two people who could stand each other—hell, who bloody adored each other—when in reality, we were… we were…

Well, we were people who occasionally tolerated each other. And before two seconds ago, I knew exactly what that meant. Now I have absolutely no idea.

Tossing the picture away, I sighed, flopping back into my pillow.

Oliver Wood was one of the most infuriatingly confusing people I'd ever met in my entire life.