(OotP) CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Oliver Interlude

Oliver's apartment was exactly how she had imagined it: a small, but hip, loft with red brick walls and big, open windows. It was the ultimate bachelor pad for the ultimate bachelor.

"All right, then," Oliver said once they had both feet planted on the ground. He grabbed a towelette from one of the cabinets and wet it at the kitchen sink. "Tilt your head back."

She eyed him skeptically as he came over to her with the wet towelette. "Going to nurse me back to health, are you?"

His eyes glinted with playful mischievousness as he said, "If that's what you're into these days."

She let out a gargled laugh as she tilted her head back and allowed him to wipe the blood away. Once that was done, he pressed the dry end of the towel gently against her nose and held it there.

"Much as I desperately want to continue flirting with you all night," he told her, "I feel this strange need to ask you if this nosebleed thing happens often."

Of course, he did, she thought with a stab of guilt. Even now, he still cared about her—more than she deserved.

"I've been experiencing a few… side effects… lately," she admitted. "Of the Perelli charm."

He didn't look surprised by that. "Does one of them include the ability to Apparate in and out of Hogwarts?"

"You been reading up on me?"

"Maybe a little."

She grinned, then pressed her hand against the towel herself so he could be released from the job. He stepped back into the kitchen, where he pulled out a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey and two goblets.

"Hear it helps with nosebleeds," he quipped.

"Then I'd better drink up."

He poured both drinks and handed her hers, then settled onto the barstool next to her. "You're okay, though? I mean, the side effects aren't… getting worse, or anything?"

"No," she lied. The nosebleeds didn't seem to be getting worse, at least; it was the overall pain level she experienced on a daily basis that seemed to be increasing. "I don't really want to talk about that, Ollie."

He smiled softly. "I miss that. Nobody here calls me Ollie."

She glanced around the apartment, frowning. "Where is here, anyway? Are you still with Puddlemere U?"

He nodded. "Still on the reserve team, but they're good to me, and I've been temporarily moved to starting a fair share. And we're in Dorset."

Dorset was nowhere near London or Hogwarts, but that was okay. Between the Floo Network and her ability to Apparate in and out of Hogwarts, she'd find her way back eventually.

"No girlfriend?" she asked him. "Big Quidditch star that you are?"

He shook his head. "Not much time for it, and not many girls out here that have caught my eye, at any rate. That's the unfortunate thing about getting to date the girl of your dreams in grade school—no one after her compares."

Ellie gave a weak, uncomfortable laugh at that. She had never quite understood Oliver's fixation with her, but it was undeniably flattering.

"What about you?" he asked her. "Didn't even realize you and Weasley broke up until I saw that ad for the Wheezes in the paper. Wrote to Charlie asking about it, and he told me you'd ended things. Didn't say why, though."

"Charlie Weasley?" she asked. "I didn't know you were friends."

"Pretty decent friends, yeah. Perce was the Weasley in my year, but I always got on better with Charlie—you know, being on the team together and all. He's been writing to me a fair bit since I made Puddlemere U—a bit jealous, I reckon."

"Right." There was no point in avoiding it, she supposed. Might as well get it over with so they could move on to more pleasant topics… or activities. Sensing that her nose had finally stopped bleeding, she lowered the towel. "There's really not that much to say about Fred. The Cedric thing messed with both our heads, and he decided to leave."

Oliver shook his head, clearly not buying it. "There's no way. The guy was crazy about you. Saw it in his eyes every time I touched you—like his blood was actually boiling."

"Well, that's what happened," she said, trying not to raise her voice. "So can we drop it?"

His handsome, green eyes softened at that, and a tiny grin formed on his face as he said, "So that's why you wrote me, then."

"What?"

"It wasn't to thank me for slipping them your demo. It was to do exactly what you did two years ago—to rebound from Fred."

She stiffened, averting his gaze. "That's not true."

"Sure, it is. The rock show was, too, I'm guessing. Don't worry, Ellie—I'm not mad. In fact, I'm quite flattered. I'm sure there's loads of guys back at Hogwarts who would have been happy to be your rebound, but you picked me."

She groaned, putting her head in her hands. "Why don't you hate me?"

"You're way too sexy for me to hate you," he teased, reaching out to push her hands away from her face. His smile faded, and he added in a huskier voice, "And I enjoy being your rebound far too much."

And with that, he kissed her.

The first time she and Oliver had kissed, Ellie had hated it. It had been too wet—too sloppy—too eager and just too much for a girl her age.

Now, though, she found that that eagerness was exactly what she needed.

It had been over two months since she'd been kissed, and even longer since she'd really felt desired. In those months, Ellie had fallen deeper and deeper into a chasm of loneliness—of emptiness—as she silently screamed for someone—anyone—to come and rescue her.

Liam had tried—she'd give him that.

But it couldn't be Liam. It had to be Oliver.

"I missed this," Oliver murmured to her between kisses as they stumbled backward, toward his bed.

His breath tasted like Firewhiskey, and she was sure hers did too. Her whole body felt like Firewhiskey—warm and fuzzy. It took all the edge off—made her question nothing.

"Me, too," she whispered back as she pushed him down onto the bed beneath her and straddled him.

If he was surprised by her boldness, he gave no indication. He was into it, clearly, but not remotely off-put by it; he barely missed a beat.

And yet, he didn't make the next move.

What was he waiting for? Didn't he understand that if he didn't make the next move, she'd have to make the decision for herself?

She knew, deep down, that she didn't want to lose her virginity to Oliver. It might feel like she wanted to in the moment, but even the part of her that wanted to burn Fred alive still wasn't ready to come to the terms with the fact that he wouldn't be her first.

And yet… he could have been her first. She had thrown herself at him multiple times, and he had rejected her.

So why shouldn't she move on to someone who wouldn't?

Deciding to start small, she reached for the hem of her already very small shirt and lifted it over her head.

Oliver eyed her bra with near-animalistic desire, chest heaving, but the desire morphed into something else when he saw the giant, gaping Splinch scar on her stomach.

"Bloody hell," he breathed, reaching out to trace the rough, regrown skin. "How did that happen?"

She averted his gaze, reaching impatiently for his own shirt and tugging impatiently at the hem. "I don't want to talk about it."

He allowed her to remove his shirt, but he didn't kiss her again. His eyes trailed from the scar on her stomach to her eyes, which had finally worked their way back to his.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Ellie?" he asked her softly.

Was she sure? Was she really prepared to go further with Oliver Wood than she ever had with Fred Weasley?

Her moment of hesitation must have been enough to convince him that she wasn't, because he smiled a wry smile, slipped out from beneath her, and rose to his feet.

"You didn't give me a chance to answer," she said lamely as she, too, rose to her feet, not bothering to put her shirt back on.

"I know," he said as he made his way to the kitchen to pour them each a glass of water. "Because I already knew the answer."


"Are you sure you don't want me to leave?"

They were back in Oliver's bed, though things hadn't heated up again. A part of her wanted to get things going again, but a bigger part just wanted to be held.

"Are you kidding?" he asked, drawing her closer to his chest. He was shirtless now, and impressively muscular from all his training. "And miss out on having the hottest girl I know half-naked in my bed?"

She laughed a strained, embarrassed laugh as she buried her face into his rock-hard chest. She had changed into one of his largest tee-shirts for bed, and had stripped down to her underwear, not wanting to sleep in the leather shorts. "I can't help but wonder whether you thought this would go further when you invited me here," she admitted into his skin.

"The thought certainly crossed my mind," he told her with a chuckle. "But I didn't have any expectations. You're still a kid, no matter how adult you looked in that getup tonight."

It was yet another thing she loved about Oliver—the fact that, no matter how handsome and experienced and confident he was, he never expected anything more from her than she was ready for. He had never pressured her sexually—save for a few only-halfway-unwelcome kisses, anyway—and tonight was no exception.

"I like it here with you," she told him softly, turning her head so that her cheek rested against his sternum. "It feels right."

"I know," he said softly, kissing the top of her head. "I like it, too."

And with that, they both drifted off to sleep.


That night, Ellie had no nightmares. In fact, she didn't have any dreams at all—at least, none that she remembered when she woke up.

Oliver was exactly where she had left him—right beneath her, intertwined with her, and holding her with so much care, it made her heart swell in a way it hadn't in months.

She glanced up at him and was surprised to see that he was already awake, staring right back at her.

"Can I just stay here?" she whispered to him with a tiny smile. "Drop out of Hogwarts and move in with you?"

He laughed, but there was something in his eyes that made her nervous—a sort of sadness that she hadn't been expecting. "If only."

"I could come back, though," she said, rising to a seated position and tucking her messy, pink hair behind her ears. "Like you said, I can Apparate in and out whenever I want."

To her frustration, though, he didn't look nearly as pleased by this idea as she felt.

"Why don't I make us some breakfast?" he asked, sliding out from under her for the second time and heading to the kitchen.

She watched him in silence for several seconds as he used his wand to charm various breakfast foods out of their containers and onto two plates. Finally, she rose from the bed and walked over to him.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, stepping behind him and wrapping her arms around him. "You don't want me to come back?"

"Of course, I do," he said, but he pulled away from her as he said it. "It's just… not a good idea, Ellie."

"Why not?" she demanded, starting to feel like some sort of spoiled child. "I thought you said you felt it, too—how nice it was last night."

"I did." His tone was growing more frustrated by the second. "It felt too nice, Ellie. I can't go back down this road again. I thought I could, but I can't."

Shit. There it was. The thing she had feared since the moment he realized he was her rebound yet again.

"It's over with me and Fred," she said. "If that's what you're worried about—"

"It's never over with you and Fred!" he interrupted—so sharply that she jumped. "I'm sorry that he hurt you, Ellie. I'm sorry that he keeps hurting you. If I could, I'd beat the guy to a pulp. He's a bloody fool. But eventually he's going to come crawling back, and you're going to forgive him."

Tears started to swim at her eyes. He was wrong. It was different this time. Fred hadn't just pulled away from her; he had disappeared. He wouldn't have done it if he wasn't sure.

And even if he did come back, would she really take him back? At this point, could she ever forgive him for what he had done?

"Look," she said, forcing the tears back. She couldn't lose this. It was the only thing that had felt right since Fred had left. That meant something, didn't it? "If it's about the sex… I'll do it, Ollie. I don't… I'm not… waiting for him. Okay?"

His green eyes darkened. "It's not about the sex, Ellie. I would have hoped you thought more of me than that."

She sighed. "I do. I'm sorry. I just… I really care about you, Ollie. You make me happy. When you held me last night… it was like all the bad just went away."

His expression softened again, and he took her by the hands, squeezing them tightly. "You like being held by me because it reminds you of being held by him, Ellie. I like holding you because it reminds me of how much I want to hold you forever."

Until that moment, she had never quite realized how much she meant to Oliver Wood. He had hinted at it back at Hogwarts—even told her he loved her the day she ended things with him—but this was different. This was... more.

And if she kept hurting him, she'd be no better than Fred.

So, with a heavy heart, she said goodbye.


For some reason, I found this to be one of the saddest chapters I've written so far, even including the Cedric ones. Poor Ellie's just hurting so bad, and the one person who stands a chance of making her feel better is forced to say no because he knows it'll hurt him down the line! Really, Fred is going to have a LOT to apologize for when he finally makes it back to us... And to Afeminist aka my biggest Ollie-hater - I'd love to know if he redeemed himself in your eyes here or if you still loathe him!