Settling the Score

Triumph Is Just Try With a Little Umph Added

"I've said it once and I'll say it again, Andora: unless Mr. Wood is in agreement with your proposal, I cannot and will not approve it."

I stared at McGonagall with wide, pleading eyes, sitting in a chair in the middle of her office. "But Professor—"

"No buts, Ms. Wiles," she interjected in a stern tone, holding my stare unflinchingly. "The entire purpose of having you and Mr. Wood plan the banquet is to teach you how to work together effectively—relying on me to intervene and choose sides during your conflicts will accomplish the precise opposite of that."

"I understand that, I really do, but at the same time I can't help but see an inherent flaw in this situation," I argued as respectfully as I could, my frustration mounting.

"And what's that?"

"By not taking sides, you by default take his. Different means to the same end: no boat."

"I haven't rejected the idea, Ms. Wiles, I simply haven't approved it."

My stare flattened. "Translation?"

"Talk to him," she replied, lips pursing a bit at my tone. "Teamwork involves communication, cooperation, and most importantly, compromise. See if you can reach some sort of agreement and then approach me with it."

"I'm sorry, are we talking about the same Oliver Wood, here?" I asked, gesturing irritably. "Because the one I know is impossibly stubborn and doesn't even know the meaning of the word compromise."

"Incidentally, the same could be said about his partner."

Touché.

"We can go on like this for hours, Ms. Wiles, but the bottom line is and will remain that you must come to some sort of agreement with Mr. Wood on your own. I'm not here to mediate your disagreements, I'm merely a signature on a consent form—a final word on ideas you propose synergistically," she explained, and I rolled my eyes—McGonagall was obsessed with the word synergy. "I've explained the concept of synergy to you, have I not? How working together—"

"Allows people to achieve something that they couldn't have achieved individually? Yes. More than once." More than bloody thrice.

"Watch your tone, Andora."

"Sorry," I grumbled darkly.

"So, are we clear?" she asked, straightening in her seat and eyeing me sternly.

"Claritin Clear."

"Consult Mr. Wood then report back to me, alright?" she said, ignoring the muggle reference that probably made no sense to her. "No boat idea unless you're both onboard." She promptly smirked in a self-satisfied manner and I struggled not to scoff.

Boat. Onboard. Punny.

"Got it. Thanks, Professor," I muttered in a tone that implied an irreverent 'for doing jack shit', but if she caught this, she waved it off.

"Of course. Now get back to class—I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary."

I pushed myself out of my seat with a dark sigh, every inch the sulky teenager, and began plotting in my head exactly how I was going to do this. The boat idea was happening—I don't care what Wood thought, it was exactly the kind of change this event needed. If he was too thick to see that on his own, then I'd just have to intervene and shoehorn it into his head myself.

But I needed a plan.

Stage one: irritate/exasperate until he agrees to at least consider it.

Stage two: come to some sort of bollocks conditional agreement (i.e. "We'll do the boat thing, but only if people wear glow-in-the-dark life vests over their dress robes").

Stage three: find problem with the condition (i.e. "Everybody's just going to take them off anyway") once he's already hooked on the idea.

Stage four: flatter until he abandons the condition and agrees to just go ahead with the original plan of renting a boat.

Stage five: revel in my brilliance.

It sounded pretty solid to me. My satisfaction obviously showed on my face, for when I waltzed back into Charms, Alicia's lips pursed. "Well aren't you just the cat that swallowed the bunny."

"Its canary, you dolt," George muttered with an eye roll, causing her glare over to snap over to him.

"Different noun, same sentiment! So," she ventured, voice sly again as her gaze strayed back over to mine. "Spill."

"Nothing to spill," I said with a shrug, dropping down into my seat with a self-satisfied air. "Just came up with a plan, is all."

George, upon hearing the word 'plan', instantly grew interested. "Plan for what?"

"You'll see."

"Does it involve Oliver?" Alicia asked, and I smirked.

"Yup."

"Does it involve shagging out your sexual frustrations in the locker room after practice?"

My cheeks colored. "No."

"Then I don't like it," she said simply, turning her attention back to her notes with a bored air. George, however, continued pressing the issue.

"How can you have a plan and not tell me? I'm a Weasley twin, I mean really."

"Because it doesn't involve dungbombs or blowing things up or using those ridiculous stretchy ear things you and Fred have been working on—"

"Extendable ears?"

"Whatever—point is, it's all mental manipulation."

George yawned. "Boring."

"Does mental manipulation involve seduction?" Alicia piped in, looking interested again, and I shot her an exasperated look.

"No!"

"Then I agree with George," she replied, glancing back at her notes indifferently.

"You guys are just jealous," I threw out rather nonsensically, annoyed with their lack of enthusiasm.

"Of what, your boring plan?" Alicia scoffed, and George pulled a desolate face.

"Blimey, I wish I could be as uncreative as Andy…"

"Oh, shove off," I muttered, turning in my seat so that my back was to them. My plan was spectacular. They'd just have to wait till today's Quidditch practice to see that. Wankers.

Andy's Epic Plan
Phase One
Status: commencing now.

"Alright, everybody settle down," Wood called over the general buzz of the broom-mounted team hovering around him, holding his hands up in a quieting gesture. It was the first Quidditch practice we'd had since the Slytherin match, and while everyone had appreciated the break, we were all pretty excited to be back in the air again. "That means stop hitting George, Spinnet."

Alicia promptly dropped her hand, sending George a snotty look before settling her narrowed gaze onto Oliver. "Happy?"

"Thrilled. Now, everybody listen up—I gave you a few days off to wind down after the Slytherin match, but I want to make it clear that I expect everyone to be in top form today." He let his competitive gaze flicker over us, eyes bright with authority. "Just because the season's over doesn't mean we can faff about for the next few weeks doing nothing—the House cup is closer than you think, and depending on how the points work out, we may very well have to play Slytherin again. As of now," he said, glancing down at the clipboard in hand, "Gryffindor's at 3,375 House points, Ravenclaw's at 3,150, Slytherin's at 2,950, and Hufflepuff's at 2,110."

"Slytherin's below Ravenclaw by two hundred," Angelina pointed out, expression skeptical. "I highly doubt that Ravenclaws are going to rack up enough detentions to sink that far—"

"You forget that Snape has a say in this," Wood cut in. "Between doling out free points to students in his House and taking away five or ten here and there from the Ravenclaws, he could manage it."

"It's still a bit of a stretch," Angelina replied uncertainly, "but not entirely impossible, I s'pose."

"We have to plan for the worst, Johnson," he said with an uncompromising shrug, and a shot of annoyance flickered through me. He was so used to getting his way, but you know what? Today he had another thing coming, and its name was phase one. "So, anyway—"

"Hey, Wood?"

He glanced over at me, brow arching a bit impatiently. "What?"

"Have you given more thought to the whole boat idea?"

"Excuse me?"

"For the banquet—you know how I wanted to have it on a boat?"

He stared at me in blazing confusion. "What the bloody hell does that have to do with—"

"The banquet's going to be on a boat?" Fred cut in, eyes lighting up. "That's brilliant! Oi, George, did'ya hear—"

"The banquet is not going to be on a boat," Wood cut in, narrowed eyes fixed on mine, "and even if it was, which it isn't, this is Quidditch practice, where shockingly enough, we discuss Quidditch."

"But—"

"And when we're done discussing Quidditch, we play Quidditch, and when we're done playing Quidditch, we discuss it some more," he continued on, plowing over George's interjection with the beginnings of a scowl. "Is that clear to everyone, or shall I go over it again?"

"Mr. Growlsworth mode," Alicia whispered to Katie, who rolled her eyes at the stupid nickname and muttered something in return.

A few moments of otherwise silence went by before Wood gave a curt nod, satisfied with the response. "Great. Now, today we're going to focus in on—"

"Hey, Wood?"

His grip on his broom tightened at the sound of my voice, eyes flaring with warning as they snapped over to mine. "This'd better be good, Wiles."

"I really think you should give the boat thing a little more thought," I suggested innocently, voice harmlessly light and oblivious to his scorn. "I mean, everyone seems to like it but you. Don't you guys like it?" I struggled not to laugh at the growing incredulity on his face, casting my eyes over the rest of the team instead.

"I think it's brilliant," George replied with a wicked grin. "Fred and I could test our new water products…"

"Could I wear a bikini?" Alicia asked, and Katie's eyes grew wide with excitement.

"You could have some sort of open deck so people could dance under the stars! That's so romantic…"

"If Alicia can wear a bikini, can Angelina wear one, too?" Fred asked, to which Angelina immediately shoved him.

"See? Everyone likes it," I pointed out, swinging my gaze back over to Wood's. His expression was molten with anger. "It's a bit selfish to rule out an idea everyone likes just because you don't like it, don't you think? Especially since this banquet is for everybody, not just—"

"Ten laps, on the ground, right bloody now," he snapped, eyes searing mine. "Everyone!" At this, a loud chorus of groans sounded, and Wood's face didn't so much as flicker as he drawled out a spiteful, "Consider it your welcome back warm-up."

I shot him a brief smile before veering my broom to the side, making to head off to the ground. Unsurprisingly, a rough grip promptly stopped me. "Yes?" I said, smiling up at his scowling face.

"What the hell are you trying to pull?"

My brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come off it, Andy."

"Come off what?"

"This is Quidditch practice—I don't schedule in time slots for discussing rubbish like the Gryffindor Banquet and you know it," he growled, and I instantly knew I'd picked a perfect time to bring it up. If he thought he was annoyed now…

"I'm really sorry, Wood, I didn't know it was such a big deal…"

"Like hell you didn't," he snapped, and I almost grinned. Of course I knew it was a big deal—Wood's practices were planned down to the last second. Every drill, every water break, every warm-up—it was scheduled in his little game book and regarded with the sanctity of Bible scripture. "This set of laps puts us behind twenty bloody minutes…"

I pulled a solemn face. "I'm sorry, Oliver. I guess I'm just really excited about the whole boat idea. I'll try and push it out of my mind for the next few hours, okay?"

He held my gaze for a long, irritated moment. Then, "We're not doing the boat, Andy." My innocent face instantly flashed into battle-mode.

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not—did you talk to McGonagall?"

"Yes, and she really liked the idea," I lied, tilting my chin up competitively.

"So she approved it, then?"

"Not exactly, but—"

"I knew it."

"Shove off, she wanted to approve it, but she says she can't let anything pass if we're not in agreement over it," I snapped, causing his eyes to fill with arrogant condescension.

"So I have all the power in the situation."

"Like hell you do."

"Really."

"Really, because if you say no, then I'll spread the word around the entire school and get them all excited about it, and then I'll break the news to them that we can't do it purely because you don't want to," I invented on a whim, though my brow promptly furrowed in consideration—that actually wasn't a bad idea…

"Do you really think I care about a bunch of angry underclassmen, Wiles?"

"You will when they egg your four-poster."

He rolled his eyes. "They're not going to egg my bloody four-poster…"

Yeah, because I'm going to do it for them. "Fine. Whatever you say."

"Well, I say no."

"Guess I have some news to spread, then."

His eyes narrowed, though before he could respond, Fred cried out a vibrant, "Are you kidding me?" We both looked down to where he'd stopped running on the track, staring up at us in outrage. "She's the one that started this bollocks and she doesn't have to run ten laps!?"

Wood glanced over at me for a moment, taking in the stubborn pout on my face, and to my absolute shock, his expression softened the slightest bit. "No." My cheeks began to warm a bit as he cocked his head to the side, expression oddly warm, hand reaching up as if to tuck a loose curl behind my ear. I felt my breath catching in my throat—what the fuck was he doing? And then, "She has to run fifteen."

He dropped his hovering hand to pat my cheek in a smug, 'off you go, now!' fashion, all softness flying out the window. I smacked his hand off with a scowl, heartbeat restoring itself to its normal pace. "You're such a sodding git."

"Run along now, love."

"You're going to agree to the boat idea!" I snapped over my shoulder as I veered my broom away, flying toward the ground. He rolled his eyes behind me and I gritted my teeth together.

Andy's Epic Plan
Phase One
Status: struggling.

Andy's Epic Plan
Phase One
Status: ballin' out of control.

"Damn it, Andy—"

"Just agree to consider it."

"—can't even see the damn Quaffle—"

"I'm really not asking for much."

"—out of the bloody way!—"

"You're really making this so much harder than it has to be."

"—ridiculous that you're—"

"All I want is an 'I'll think about it'—"

SMACK.

I winced as a Quaffle Wood hadn't seen coming smacked right against his head, thrown by Angelina and intended for the middle goal. He cursed violently under his breath, bringing his hand up to his temple and rubbing it angrily as Angelina snickered out an apology. He waved her off and shot me a caustic glare.

This may or may not be because I've been flying around him in circles for the past ten minutes. "What? You blocked it, didn't you? Woot! Go team!" I pumped my fist in the air for emphasis.

He shook his head and muttered something I couldn't quite hear, but I figured it was sentimental and lovely. You know, something like 'Why don't you go fly circles around the Whomping Willow instead; see how that works out for you?' Sweet nothings like that.

Wood was such a romantic, honestly.

"Look, how long am I going to have to fly around you before you cave?" I asked, growing a bit impatient with this whole routine. "Flying in circles is fun for the first few minutes, but it's gotten old now and my head is starting to spin."

He pointedly ignored me, and I took this as a signal to keep talking.

"And Merlin, if it's already annoying me, I can only imagine how much it's annoying you," I prattled on, shaking my head as I continued to zoom around him. "I'd have exploded ages ago—and that's not even taking into account my singing the Macarena during our speed drills, convincing everyone to leap frog the laps we were supposed to run, and charming the back of your broom to blink 'Diva' when you weren't looking…"

His jaw clenched as he kept his eyes trained on the pitch, fingers tightening around the handle of his broom. I could tell he was trying to keep himself from turning around and checking to see if the diva thing was real, and my lips twitched into a wicked smirk—hell yeah it was real.

"But then again, you're a lot more patient than I am," I said, randomly changing my whizzing pace to a glacial one. He stiffened and I smiled—it's amazing what little shifts like that can do to someone so consistency-obsessed. "Like, I bet I could do my Shrieking Mandrake impression right now and you wouldn't even flinch. In fact—AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRLKWEJBNFLKB SDF—"

"Fucking hell!" Alicia shrieked from down the pitch, dropping the Quaffle to cover her ears.

"—EEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHS DJBDS—"

"Is someone dismembering her!?" Fred gritted out.

"—OOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYGFDJ HKSSK—"

"If they aren't, I bloody will!" Angelina spat out, hands stuffed over her ears.

"UUUUUUUUUUUIIIIIIIIINNNHHFGK ADJBNKDAS—"

"DEAR GOD, MAKE IT—"

Just as Alicia was about to strike a Bludger at me with the bat she'd stolen from George, Wood cracked. "Fine!" My shrieking immediately cut off, eyes opening and head righting itself from its tossed back position.

"What?"

"Fine," he repeated through gritted teeth, eyes volcanic with exasperation as they seared into mine, "I'll consider your stupid idea." My face instantly flooded with triumph, and without really thinking, I threw my hands in the air and started zooming around him celebratory circles. "Stop with the fucking circles!"

He reached out and grabbed the end of my broom in frustration, jerking me to such a rough and sudden halt that it sent me lurching forward. I scrambled to regain some sort of balance, not having been expecting the sudden momentum shift, but before I knew it, I'd careened right off my broom and was falling to the ground.

For all of half a second.

Oliver's hands were on either side of my waist before I could so much as scream, pulling me onto his broomstick with a decisive sweep. Yes, I am aware of explicitly sexual double meaning of this action, and I choose to ignore it. For now. I may think about it lat—

Anyway, before I can even process what's happening, my broom is clattering onto the ground whilst I am decidedly not. In fact, I'm face-to-face with Wood, whose eyes are wild and hands have swept up to tightly cup my face. "You okay?" His voice is stern, tight.

"I'm… fine," I managed, struggling to wade through the heady feeling clouding my thoughts. His accent just got so damn Scottish whenever he worried… all the r's rolled just a little bit longer, the vowels softened just a little bit further…

"I'm sorry, Wiles, I didn't—I wasn't—your hands weren't even on the broom, I should have—" he shook his head distractedly, too many thoughts assaulting him at once, and I felt a sharp sadness wash over me without any sort of warning. It was just… I mean, how much of his life was he going to spend feeling guilty about things?

"Oliver," I said, and in a moment of boldness I placed my hand over the one he had against my cheek, causing his distraught gaze to flicker back up to mine, "I'm fine. It's not like I hit the ground."

"But you could've," he replied darkly.

"But I didn't," I countered, the beginnings of a smirk twitching at my lips. "Besides, even if I had, I kind of deserved it."

"Jesus, Andy, don't say that," he muttered, irritated with how flippantly I regarded things like this, and I rolled my eyes.

"Wood, please. I was being annoying."

"You were being fucking annoying, but you could've broken your neck from this height."

"But I didn't."

"Yeah, but you could've."

"Alright, I could've, ahh," I said sardonically, waving my hand about in mock distress. "You're a horrible person that needs to go join an Eastern European monastery and practice self-mutilation till you die." I shot him a dry look. "People make mistakes, Oliver. Get over it. I don't feel guilty about the Quaffle that hit your head."

His lips twitched involuntarily at this. "That hurt."

The amusement in his voice was like music, and I couldn't help but grin. "Doesn't be such a pansy."

"You know, I thought you were annoying naturally, but now that I've seen you trying—"

"It's pretty incredible, isn't it? I learned how to do it from my step-mum."

"The one that's on a mission to make you an actual girl?"

An odd sort of warmth flooded me at the fact that he remembered. "That's the one."

"She taught you well." His face fell flat after a moment, "Does the back of my broom really say 'diva'?"

I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing. "What do you think?"

"I think that, knowing you, it not only says 'diva', it says 'diva' in bright pink capital letters."

My smile was Cheshire. "You forgot 'glittery'."

"Bloody hell," he groaned, dropping his head back in resignation. "How long has it been there?"

"You don't want to know."

"You're right—I really don't."

I chuckled at his look of complete misery, about to offer to take it off, when a flicker of movement behind him caught my eye. I glanced his over his shoulder to see Alicia waving her arms from a few dozen feet away, mouthing something I couldn't quite make out. I squinted at her for a few moments until she rolled her eyes and pointed at something on the ground.

My eyes followed the direction of her finger, down the stands, past the commentator booth, around the concession stand, straight to the… locker room. And then they flattened. Of course. I lifted my gaze back up and shot her a glare, adding in a festive little hand gesture for good measure, and she ruffled in outrage.

"Flint's team's here," Wood suddenly muttered, spotting something behind me and lifting his hand to glance at his watch. "We must've gone over time." At this, he shot me a pointed look, and I grinned sheepishly in return. "Alright, everybody hit the locker rooms, practice is over! I don't have time to go over stats and logistics, but I'll do it at the start of our next practice, which is…?"

"Saturday, 8 AM," everyone chorused miserably.

"Spot on—see you Saturday!" he called out, before promptly straightening to look back at me. "I don't want to fly with you facing me, it's not safe."

I rolled my eyes. "Wood, Katie and I fly like this all the time. It's fun, we gossip."

"Turn around."

"Seriously?"

"I'll help you, if you—"

"I know how to turn around on a broom, Oliver," I said, a bit annoyed. "I've been flying for as long as you have, in case you forgot."

"Go ahead, then."

He stared at me expectantly and I sighed, wrapping both my hands around the same point on the handle and flipping about in one swift motion. My back was instantly against his chest, his broad shoulders swallowing my comparatively small frame as his hands moved forward—one wrapping around my waist, the other gripping the handle in front of me.

I was hit with the overwhelming urge to release all the tension in my body and melt against him, to let the warmth and smell of him envelope me completely, and it was fucking hard to keep composed. Every dip and ridge of his body matched so perfectly with every line and curve of mine, and the feeling of it was like putting together the last two pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle that's been troubling you for years. It just…

Well. There's no way to describe it without sounding like a hallmark card, so I'll shut up.

"You're serious about this boat thing, aren't you?"

His voice was low and warm against my ear as he flew down to the ground, careful not to go too fast, and I was caught between rolling my eyes at his pace and shivering at his proximity. "Yeah, I am. I really think it's exactly the kind of twist we're looking for."

He thought about this for a moment. Then, "Let's make a deal, alright? If you find the boat, the company, the insurance, whatever—iron out all the details and present me with a foolproof plan—then I'll…" he sighed, shaking his head. "Then I'll agree to It."

"Really!?" It was an exuberant shriek that annoyed even me.

"It has to be foolproof, Wiles—if there's even a single hole or risk that hasn't been accounted for—"

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthan kyou!"

"—won't hesitate to tell McGonagall that it's shit—"

"You won't have to, I swear! This is going to be the best bloody plan you've ever seen!"

He rolled his eyes with a cynical expression, though I could tell his lips were twitching with the smile he was holding back. Just as we were about to touch down on the ground, however, a leering whistle pierced through the air.

"Well, well, well." Flint. Only a half-troll could have such an oafish, inbred sounding voice. "What have we here?"

Wood swiveled around and we came face-to-face with half of the Slytherin team, the other half having taken to the pitch already.

"At least when I shagged her, I had the decency to do it in a broom closet," Viper drawled in his insouciant way, flicking a speck of lint from his otherwise immaculate robes.

Wood's grip tightened the slightest bit around my waist, forcing me back against him, and I indulged him just to keep him calm. Okay, and maybe because it made me feel spectacularly girly and coddled to have someone holding me all protectively, but mostly to keep him calm.

Really.

"Viper," I said with a frosty smile. "Long time no see. How're your balls doing? Last I checked, they were shoved pretty far up your abdomen."

He smirked luxuriously. "You're welcome to see for yourself, darling."

"I'd love too, really, but it'd take too much time to find them." His simper dropped into a petty scowl and I mimicked his former smirk. "Maybe some other time."

His lip curled insufferably. "Please—like a boorish, STD-infested Gryffindor like you would even get another shot with me. Look at you, you're—"

"You don't have to put up with this," Wood cut in with a tight mutter, swooping down and dropping me onto my feet before swinging himself off his broom and tossing it to the ground. "How you doing, Viper?" He was advancing on the sinewy Bulgarian with threateningly quick strides, shrugging off the heavy robes of his Quidditch kit. "Well, I take it?"

His voice was lined with fake friendliness, and Viper's face instantly paled as he stepped behind his far beefier counterpart, Marcus Flint. Wood halted at this, cynical amusement filling his gaze. "I thought you said you didn't let girls onto your team, Flint?"

"We like to protect our special weapons," Flint spat out, and Wood chuckled darkly.

"Well, you obviously aren't doing a very good job, since someone managed cut Viper's special weapons clean off."

"Really?" Viper drawled from behind Flint. "Then what did I fuck your girlfriend with?"

"Apparently your imagination," I muttered to myself, annoyed with this whole situation, though no one paid me any attention. That's right. Don't mind me; I'm just the punching bag.

"You know, Viper, one of these days, I'm going to get a hold of you when none of your little bodyguards are around, and bloody hell I'm going to enjoy it."

"Never took you for a poof, Wood."

"Really? Because I've taken you for one since the day I met you."

"I reckon your mum would beg to diff—"

"Okay, really, enough," I snapped, irritated. "This banter is awful—your mum taunts? That's disgraceful. You're a bloody Slytherin, Viper, if you can't be cunning and cheeky, what good are you?" Heaving an annoyed sigh, I whirled away toward the locker rooms.

Behind me, I heard them all fall silent.

Then, "Are 'your mum' taunts really that bad?"

"I dunno, I always thought they had a zing about them…"

"Classic, really…"

"Stupid Gryffindors…"

I shook my head, eyes veering toward the back of my skill. People just didn't know how to be archenemies these days. On the plus side, however… my smile grew absolutely wicked as I shoved the door to the locker room open, spinning around in whimsical circles. "Phase one is complete!"

Katie's brow furrowed. "Phase one of what?"

"Oh, nothing…"

Alicia scoffed. "She has this stupid plan that doesn't involve shagging anyone…"

Whatever. They'll find out soon enough—this plan's going to go by in the blink of an eye. For now, however, I think I'll just jump to phase five.

In case you forgot, that's 'revel in my brilliance'.

Bitches.