Ch. 24: Oliver Wood Is A Hunk
It was a lazy sort of afternoon, and the cold drift of rain outside the Gryffindor Tower only aided the draft coming from the stone corridors. I sat, bundled, on my bed and pondered life's choices.
"Oliver Wood." I snapped my fingers, a grin plastered on my face. "I've got it." Lana looked at me over her book titled: Beautiful Creatures and rose a brow.
"What are you talking about?"
I jumped off my bed and threw on a long overcoat that reached the lower parts of my thighs and the rubber boots that I'd had to special order through the Post. Turns out, all of the shoes I'd brought from home couldn't keep the wet from seeping into the soles. "I'm going to the Gryffindor Quidditch practice."
Lana chuckled, setting the book down and watching me carefully. "What're you blubbering on about? It's been pouring outside for the last four days. The mud is knee-deep and you're wearing shorts. Are you insane?" She rolled off her bed, setting the book aside. "What is so important that you don't even have time for proper pants?"
"Your date to the Yule Ball," I said. "I hate that you're just moping around up here. So, I'll set something up for you." I threw on a scarf as well, hoping it would make up for wearing shorts.
"No," Lana groaned. "No blind date." She said flinging herself back onto her mattress with a scowl, dramatically.
"He's attractive." I assured her. "Plus, he's Scottish-which is better than Irish anyway." With out asking her permission, I just walked out-she was going to thank me for it anyway.
As I made my way out the door, she called out to me. "Bring me some hot chocolate when you get back, Liza!" I flipped her off behind my back and kept going, a smile playing on my lips.
Lana was right...like she always is when it comes to weather. I took my wand out of my rubber boot and flicked it, muttering: Umbrellè. Slowly, the wand grew into a big, red umbrella. It was big enough for two people to fit comfortably, just the way I liked it. I could see the Quidditch Pitch from where I was walking. It was a tiny dot on the horizon, and the mud was already sucking at my boots.
Trudging on, I battled back the elements. I could hear shouts and cheers from the Quidditch team as they hollered back and forth at each other. Even though there were technically no Quidditch Matches this year, Oliver Wood couldn't go a year without at least some Quidditch.
'He'd go completely mental,' Fred had told me. 'Wood's in line for Puddlemere, can't have him going rusty on us.'
The Gryffindor players were still in the air, extremely drenched but determined. Looking around, I noticed that no one else was there outside of the team (except for me, no surprise there).
Shrugging, I climbed up the slippery, wooden steps and sat down on the drenched bench, shivering as the water soaked through the seat of my pants. I brushed it off, preparing to wait for them to finish, listening to the rain patter against my umbrella.
Fred's PoV:
'Oliver's completely mental, making us run drills in this weather.' I steered the handle of my broom through the blistering wind and sailed toward my brother, slowing down beside him as the pellets of water rained down against our uniforms.
George's orange hair stuck to the sides of his face and he tossed the Quaffle at me. I caught it tightly, though it slipped for a moment with the water in the air. Glancing down, I noticed a bright red blot on the field.
"Eh, George," I called, "do you see that?" I squinted with my brother through the rain and pointed at a bright red umbrella sitting on the bench on the field.
George lowered his Beater's Club and hovered a little closer to the ground, his head titled to the side. "Yeah, I do. Wonder what they're doin' in weather like this."
Oliver heard us talking instead of practising and made his way over, face as stern as ever. "Look, gents, I know there are no games, but you gotta stay sharp without me. And, in order for you to do that, is if we all put in our greatest effort."
"Yeah, but we're being distracted by a random stranger," I teased dramatically, "the red is throwing me off." I pointed down at the person sitting in the rain, his gaze following the movement. "See? I think they need to talk to someone."
Oliver frowned and looked over at the two of us. "Look, I'll go talk to them. You two get back to beating the bludgers." With that, he flew down to the ground.
"Yes sir, Captain, Sir." I muttered and George nodded.
George and I hit the bludger back and forth for a few minutes, laughing as Harry was chasing the snitch around for no reason, yet when I looked down at the field-I noticed that Oliver was still talking to the person with the red umbrella. I gave George a look and we both descended down to eavesdrop-maybe Woddie has a girliefriend.
Elle's Pov:
It wasn't long before I was noticed on the field. I was pretty glad for it too, it was too cold to wait around for a break in their practice.
"Excuse me! This is a closed practice -- I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to leave." A voice called to me through the rain. I looked across the field and spotted Oliver Wood as he landed gracefully on the Quidditch Pitch, his broom in hand. He looked soaked to the bone, the dark red and golden Gryffindor colours contrasting his pale skin. As he approached, I couldn't help but notice that he was strong, tall and well-proportioned, with dark features and a bonny curve to his mouth.
All that to say, Oliver was attractive. Though, from what I'd heard from Ron and Harry about the prestigious Quidditch Captain, his only love was the sport and... he was pretty oblivious to anything else.
Jumping from my seat, I met him in the middle of the field, using my umbrella like a shield against the pellets that fell like heavenly ice. "Hiya!" I grinned. Oliver seemed a little taken aback that it was me, and I could tell that it took him a moment before he recognized me from our 'dance class'.
"Oh, it's you," Oliver said. His tone changed, realizing I was a fellow Gryffindor and wouldn't dare share their secret Quidditch techniques. "What're you doing here?" He chuckled, in a friendly manner, ducking under the span of my umbrella.
I held it out and offered him some cover from the rain. "Thanks." He mumbled as he came closer. He was a lot taller than me, so I just let him hold the handle. He took it with a small, humoured smile and nodded as droplets rolled off the edge of his nose and the tips of his short hair.
I knew he was busy, so I wanted to make it as quick as possible. "I came to ask you a few questions in the hopes that you won't be weirded out." I smirked and added: "Because we aren't really too close."
Oliver shrugged, though the quirk between his brow told me his confusion. "Well, I guess you'll just have to ask."
"Do you have a date for the Yule Ball yet? And if not, do you have someone particular in mind?" I blurted out, not wanting to drag this out like when I did with George, afraid that he would get the wrong idea.
Oliver frowned and rose a brow. "No, why do you ask?"
"I have a friend who would like a date to the Ball, and I was hoping you'd take her. Her name is Lana Dowell?" I crossed my fingers and tried convincing him to say yes. "It'll be a fun experience, -- and who knows you may even come to like--"
"--Yeah, okay." Oliver cut me off as he grinned down at me. "I'll do it."
"Really?!" I grinned and hugged him. "Wow, you're awesome!" My hug took Oliver by surprise, causing him to drop my umbrella and the rain to come pouring down on top of me, causing me to become instantly soaked.
"Well well well-" I heard a familiar voice to the side of me, followed by the other familiar one, finishing his brother's sentence.
"--What do we have here?"
I let go of Oliver, looking left and right to see Fred and George sitting on their broomsticks, hovering behind us and casually eavesdropping.
I jumped slightly, not realizing they were so close but shook it off with an eye roll, knowing that they were just being their regular, sneaky selves. "Oh hey guys, how's practice?" I smiled, glad that Oliver said yes. 'I think Lana and him would get along great.'
"Why do you care?" Fred frowned, looking a little angry. "You should get inside-it's raining to hard for you to be dressed in that." He looked me up and down, his eyes pausing on my exposed legs. Why was he acting so weird?
"What's your problem, Weasley?" I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest- not caring that it rose my over-coat and exposed more of my short-clad legs. Was he man PMSing or something?
"Nothing, Elle." He scowled back, dropping to the ground and leaning against the handle of his broom with a frown. Fred nodded towards his Captain and shrugged. "I'm just saying you're going to get a cold...and that you should leave. Wood should be practising."
'O-Kay, major dick alert...' I squinted at him as he spoke, noticing how quiet George had become as he watched his brother with a furrowed brow.
My mouth popped open like a fish for a second. "Okay, really-what is your issue? Are you-" I leaned closer to him, feeling water run down my face and pool around my lips. "Are you jealous that I'm talking to Wood?"
George's mouth pressed into a tight line and he looked from Fred to me, not wanting to get involved. Fred's expression shifted, and there was a humourous gleam in his eye, but he shrugged and hopped back onto his broom as the rain picked up once more.
Fred scoffed and turned around. "Right, jealous. Come on George-let's practice-Wood's too busy."
Oliver was quiet the whole time, and he gave me a nervous look once they left. "He's right you know, I should get back. Tell Lana that I said yes, okay?"
"Okay," I replied, my good feelings completely wiped away. "Cool."
However, I was left reeling from the whiplash of my own emotions. What started out as a carefree moment with Oliver had been turned sour by Fred's mood. I grumbled as I strode back to the Castle, muttering under my breath. "What a bitch!"
I was in need of a hot shower.
[ honestly, I had to do a lot of editing, and here's a reminder that I don't agree with everything in this story. I'm keeping some of the cringe where I find it acceptable. I'm going for a 30/70 ratio here.]