Author's Note: Thank you all for the great reviews guys! Keep them coming! :)
heyyodude: Thanks so much. I appreciate the suggestion and I shall definitely try my best to include Fred and George in some way! :)
CHAPTER SIX
We finally arrived at The Three Broomsticks. Oliver opened the door for me like any proper gentleman would do for any lady on a date. Things were definitely looking up. I spotted an empty table in the crowded pub and pointed to it so Oliver could see where I was headed. I took a few steps towards the only vacant table as he followed. After pushing fiercely through the groups of tightly packed wizards and witches, we settled down in a comfy booth at the back. The huge crowd that overtook the pub a minute before was starting to die down - along with the noise level - as people left. Finally, we could sit and actually relax. Then with a sudden and rather painful start I realized that now was the moment to start talking and acting differently if I wanted us to become anything more than friends.
I sat with my back straight, stomach sucked in and breasts pushed out. I twirled the ends of my hair mindlessly with my fingers. "I like your shirt," I said in the most seductive voice I could conjure up. Automatically, his eyes drifted to his shirt and back up again. He muttered something really fast. It sounded kind of like thankyoumymomboughtit. Then, I pulled the ultimate move. I rested my elbows on the table, leaned forward so he could see some cleavage in my baby blue V-neck tee and whispered, "I love your hair. It looks so soft." I reached up with one hand and tousled and played with his hair. His eyes drifted from my eyes to my chest without any hesitation. After a second, he finally realized where he was looking and looked back up at my eyes. I then gave him the sexiest side smile that he's ever seen.
Well…I tried to.
He cleared his throat, removed my hand from his soft brown hair and looked at me with worried eyes. "Are you okay?"
I felt the heat climbing up from my toes, up to my neck and finally my cheeks. I could bet you anything that my whole face was beet red at that moment. What was I doing? Oliver probably thought I was some kind of freak! I should have known earlier that trying to change my demeanor would only get me into trouble. I had learned my lesson and I wasn't going to do it again, that was for damn sure. I sat back in my chair and said, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Why?"
"Well, you're acting kind of..." he said with a I'd-rather-be-anywhere-else-but-here look. And at that moment, I really did wish I was anywhere else but there as well I zipped up my jacket, crossed my arms around my chest and stared out the window. Even though I was fully covered up (thanks to my jacket) I suddenly felt very open and exposed. I'd never felt that way before. And let me be the first to tell you that it's not exactly the greatest feeling in the world. Above all, I was just downright embarrassed. My temples throbbed, my vision became blurry and soon my cheeks felt wet and my tongue tasted like tears.
"Different in a bad way?" I finished for him. He didn't answer. He just stared out the window at the people passing by, just like me.
Silently, we both stood up from the table at The Three Broomsticks and walked home. The walk was uneventful, to say the least. Neither of us said a word the whole way. You literally could have taken a knife and cut the thick tension that hung all around us.
I cried almost all the way home. I had no idea my body could produce that many tears. I hardly ever cried. Even though I've faced some of the most brutal quidditch injuries known to mankind. But I would always get through it. But that night, things were different and it actually felt really good to let it all out. I wasn't crying just because of what happened in Hogsmeade, I was actually crying for a lot of reasons.
I cried because school, homework and long Quidditch practices left me exhausted. I cried because I was confused about my love, my life and my love life. Do I even have to mention Oliver? I was a mess.
Late that night, I entered my dorm, and went to bed, hoping to sleep off the pain.
When I woke up the next morning, my whole body felt stiff. I sat up in bed and stretched out the aching muscles in my legs as much as I could. A grin started to form on my face as I replayed the dream I had from the night before in my head. I chuckled softly as I remembered the part in my dream where I tried to seduce my silly Quidditch captain. God, I acted like such a tramp, I thought. After a few moments of enjoying my ridiculous dream from the previous night, I removed it from my mind as I thought about what I actually did last night. My eyes squinted in confusion as I tried to recollect the events. And after a few seconds, my heart rate sped up rapidly, as I finally recalled every single little painful detail.
My dream was real. What happened in my dream, actually did happen in real life. I groaned aloud and sunk back into bed, never wanting to leave the familiar sheets. I started to groan even louder as I heard a flap of wings enter my dorm. It was, of course, my owl, Athena, delivering emergency mail. I was in no mood to deal with her right then. To send her the message (that I didn't want to deal with her), I pulled my covers over my head and waited for her to leave. Athena landed delicately at the end of my bed, put down the letter she had in her beak and flew back out of my dorm without disturbing me. I made a mental note to give her a treat later for being on such good behavior.
When I was sure Athena was gone, I kicked off the blankets and retrieved the letter she'd delivered. As soon as I touched it, the letter opened itself and turned into a pair of lips that rose into the air until it was at eye level with me. "This is a message from: Oliver Wood." the lips said. I gasped. Oliver? What did he want? The lips continued; only this time, it was Oliver's voice, "Good morning everyone. I would like all Quidditch team members to get dressed as quickly as they can. I request that you go to the Quidditch pitch and wait for my arrival there. I also request that you be awake and ready for a very long and strenuous practice. Thank you for listening. I'll see you all out on the field." Then, the pair of lips shredded itself up into a million little pieces.
I glanced at the time. My watch read seven am. Seven? What was Oliver's deal? It was, after all, Sunday morning. As a Sunday tradition, I don't get out of bed until ten am. I moped and groaned and screamed inside my head like a little girl as I grudgingly followed Oliver Wood's instructions.
I looked out onto the Quidditch pitch. And what I saw wasn't pretty. What I saw was ten of my teammates, dressed in their uniforms (like Oliver's orders said to), but they certainly didn't look awake and ready for practice at all. Their droopy, baggy eyes, unruly hair and zombie-like gaits made my usually cheery teammates look like they were about to pass out cold at any possible second. Not one of us said a word to each other. I assumed we were saving our energy to let off our anger on the person we were really mad at. And that person would be the one and only, Oliver Wood. Only he would make us practice in the wee hours of the morning not giving a rat's ass about anyone else's feelings.
After ten minutes of standing around, the asshole finally decided to show up. Before we even had the chance to let off a little steam, he held his hand up and looked down on us as if to say 'I don't even want to hear it'. Then, he said, "Fifteen laps around."
The practice was, in a word...hell. The first fifteen laps were just the beginning. It was non-stop. This drill. That drill. Practice this. Practice that. No water breaks. No bathroom breaks. We practiced for five hours. Five nonstop hours of Oliver's yelling. His voice burned holes in our ears every time he wasn't satisfied. The very husky voice that I fell in love with was the very voice I had ended up cringing at every time I heard it. Five nonstop hours of sweating, groaning, complaining, de-hydration and aching muscles. I would totally understand Oliver's sudden need for intense training if we had a big game coming up (or even just a scrimmage). But, we didn't. Have any games, I mean. None at all.
I was not in love Oliver Wood any longer.
At least, that's what I kept trying to tell myself. What did I need to be in love with a jerk like that for? I had enough problems in my life thank you very much. I ignored him. And I even avoided him at all costs. But...it wasn't like he was exactly itching to talk to me either, so it just made my job a whole lot easier. I leave him alone and he leaves me alone. Perfect. Right? That was enough for me, wasn't it? I would find out soon enough.
