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Keep Away by Mistress
Chapter 9 : Over Drinks
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 23


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Since the party was only a few days away, I was now forced to talk to Oliver Wood. Leave it to Fred to pair the two of us up—two people that loathed each other to the very core.

I walked across the common room to where he was sitting with a Quidditch magazine propped up on his knees. I cleared my throat lightly, knowing that no matter what this was not going to go well.

“Perry?” Oliver groaned. “I don’t have any nail polish.”

“I don’t want nail polish, Wood,” I snapped. “We have to go shopping later tonight for the drinks. I wanted to know when you want to go.”

He shrugged. “Can’t you just go?” he asked. “That would be easier on both of us.”

I rolled my eyes. “Or you could just go by yourself…think about why you’re such a bloody jerk.”

“I’m not a jerk. And I’m not going by myself and letting you get out of doing any work.”

“Same here.”

He sighed. “Let’s go around five then, okay? I’ll meet you down here and we’ll buy the rubbish and get back here. I have things to do tonight.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” I motioned toward the Quidditch magazine. “What a horrible life you have.” I rolled my eyes and wandered back upstairs to finish off my Charms homework.

Angelina was at her desk scribbling on some parchment. She jumped when I walked in. “Have you and Oliver gone to get the drinks yet?”

I shook my head. “We’re going later. I still don’t understand why Fred would want Wood and me to go get them—we’ll probably end up in a row and buying something completely wrong.”

Ang smiled. “I’m sure you two will be okay. Just don’t take him seriously. Try to get along.”

“I don’t want to get along,” I muttered stubbornly. “I want to throw him into the lake.”

She shrugged. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Angelina smiled at me and continued to write on her parchment.

I opened my Charms book. “Maybe I should toss that git in the lake. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.”


At five minutes after five (just to show him I didn’t give a fart about the things he had to do), I made my way down the stairs with my cloak already wrapped tightly around me. Oliver was tapping his foot at the end of the stairs and looking up at me, annoyed. “Hi, Wood,” I said nonchalantly, pulling a hat tightly onto my head. “Are you ready to shop for some booze?”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I was ready five minutes ago.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, me too.” I led the way downstairs and silently walked out into the snow (this time I brought my boots).

“I think I’ll kill Fred for this,” Oliver muttered, kicking some snow at me.

I nodded. “The question is—how.”

“How to kill Fred?” It looked like Oliver was thinking hard. “Death by broomstick I think.”
I smirked. “Honorable way to go out.”

The trek into Hogsmeade was silent save for our crunching footsteps. Oliver kept his eyes focused forward, staring at the coming buildings. I, however, was looking at the snow. It was glittery in the winter sunlight, which I loved, and the footprints behind us looked almost like a path (an escape path).

Once we reached the village Oliver pulled out a list. “All right, this is the list Weasley gave me. It’s got a bunch of different liquors on it and some mixers. Do you want to just split up?”

As much as I wanted to split up and leave him in my snow dust, I made a face. Staring at the list, I knew I was hopeless. Every time Hogwarts had a party, the twins took care of everything right down to the beverages. They knew the names and knew what kind of tastes we liked and that is what they got—true masters of their art. I, however, did not know what any of this was or what any of it looked like. This certain brand of Vodka could have been in a milk carton bottle and I’d have no idea.

“I would,” I said slowly, and then followed it up with a more forceful, “I seriously would. But…I don’t know a bottle of gin from a bottle of whiskey.”

Oliver raised a brow. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I narrowed my eyes. He always had to act so much better than me. “No, I’m not kidding you. I’ve never had to buy the drinks before—why would I know?”

“Because it’s a common knowledge,” Oliver retorted, folding up the list as we headed toward the only liquor store in Hogsmeade. “But that’s all right.” He shrugged and pulled open the dark mahogany door. “We’ll just go together and I’ll have to show you the ropes.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered, “yet another thing you can hold over my head and then announce to the entire team.” I turned to the left and pretended to have an idea of what I was looking for.

Oliver peeked his head around the corner. “This is wine. We don’t need any—the Vodka section is down here a few aisles.”

“I don’t care,” I shot back, brushing my finger along a dark red wine, “maybe I want wine. I think I do. This red wine looks pretty wicked.”

He shrugged. “You’d hate that.”

“I bet I wouldn’t.” I folded my arms just to look stubborn.

Oliver smirked at me. “Then grab your wine but I’m not pouring you a sour all night if you get that bottle.”

I gaped at him. Sours were my favorite drinks and people frequently made fun of me for it. That didn’t bother me, but I knew Oliver wasn’t kidding. I set down the bottle of wine and slowly made my way over toward the grinning git.

“These are the different bottles we need…this one here is gin.” He held up a tall, clear bottle and jiggled it in front of my face. “And this one is whiskey.” Oliver handed me a bottle of amber-colored liquid and kept searching through the rows of glass. “I wouldn’t recommend it. I’ve seen many blokes get nasty after having a bit on the rocks.” He smiled at me, but I didn’t return it.

I scanned the aisle of bottles, tilting my head to the side to see if there was anything from the list that I recognized. I grabbed for a large bottle of Vodka. “This, right?” I said, feeling a little foolish but curious at the same time.

Oliver nodded. “Put it in the cart then, pro,” he said with a chortle. “So you’ve been touchy all day.” He placed a bottle of dark liquid in the cart. “Why? Isn’t Dodger doing his job and cheering you up? He shouldn’t let his lady go around being a pissy wench, should he?”

I rolled my eyes. “Roger isn’t cheering up anyone right now,” I muttered darkly, thinking back to our row. “In fact, he can cheer up any lady he wants…far bloody away from me.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. He stared at me, completely serious, for a moment and then said loudly, “Did he hit you?”

I threw a playful punch at his arm. “No, he didn’t bloody hit me! Don’t be stupid.” I grabbed the list back from him and pretended like I knew what Bailey’s was.

“Then what happened? Did he call you a name?”

“Oh, you mean like when you just called me a wench?” I raised a brow and Oliver blushed. “No, he just…it’s none of your ruddy business. We got in a row and I’m not speaking to him. I don’t care. He’s being a foul git.”

“You should throw him in front of the Hogwarts Express or something.” Oliver smiled warmly. “I can help you.”

“I’ll just get Fred and George to help,” I said quickly, shifting a few bottles in the cart so that none of them broke. Oliver raised a brow. “Considering I’ll just toss you in right after Roger.”

“Now what did I do?”

“Do you even have to ask me that?” I folded my arms and stared at him. “I think there are several reasons I would throw you in front of a train—the main being that you told your entire bloody Quidditch team that I couldn’t fly before your sorry arse taught me.”

He made a face. “Perry, come on. I’m sure they knew.”

“I made it so they didn’t know, Wood!” I said, nearly yelling. A worker peeked around the corner to see if everything was all right. “I lied and I continuously countered every time you hinted that I might not know how to fly. That was my biggest secret, you pompous git! Couldn’t you tell that I didn’t want it out?”

Oliver didn’t say anything right away. He stood there for a few seconds, now examining a bottle of something the label called cider with some weird rodent on it. “Look, I was mad. I didn’t mean for it to end like that.”

He sounded almost serious, but I knew better than that. I knew that whenever Oliver Wood sounded remotely serious that it was code for him either trying to shut someone up or him trying to instill some trust again. I was assuming it was the latter, but considering he always picked on me for jabbering too much, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was either.

I stared at him. “Well, whether or not you meant it to, it did. It ended really bad and now I have to figure out how to tell all of my best friends that I have continuously lied to them for six years. Lovely.”

Oliver groaned as he put a warm pink bottle in the cart. “I said I’m sorry.”

“I know you did.” I couldn’t help but replay the conversation in my head.

“Because I let you cry on my bloody shoulder on Halloween since your daddy can’t take ruddy care of you! Do you think I honestly give a fart that Daddy doesn’t know what nail polish to buy or that he can’t take care of his little girl because Mummy died? I need you to be focused about this—”

“Are you fucking KIDDING me?” I cried, throwing my arms in the way. Alicia slammed her head on the table. “Are you really going to say that after you’re the one that asked me about my family?”

“I just wanted you to trust me so I could get you to really focus on this game!”


I looked at him. “And part of me really thinks you mean it.” I shrugged as Oliver bore his eyes into my own. “But the other part of me, the sensible part, knows you are a prat that I would feed to the squid because you’re so disloyal to anyone not directly benefiting you.”

Oliver gaped at me. “That’s not true!”

“Yes, it is,” I replied, picking up a baby blue bottle and raising a brow at it. He put it back on the shelf before I could inquire about it. “Look, Wood, I’m sure you feel sorry. That’s really nice. I just loathe you.”

“I loathe you too, Perry.” Oliver was smiling.

I poked him in the ribs. “Cut it out! You’re supposed to be…growling or something.”

“Growling? Like a…like a dog? You think Oliver Wood should be growling at you like a puppy?”

“That’s about as much bite as you have, Wood. A puppy.” I looked down at the cart, pretending to not notice his hurt expression. “Do we have everything?”

I waited for a moment for Oliver to check the list and he nodded. “Yep. That’s all of it.” He paused as we proceeded to the check out, bottles clinking in the cart. It was awkward now—we weren’t arguing, but we weren’t exactly getting along either.

Not that I wanted to. Wood was a creep.

He paid with the money Fred gave him and we walked out with several paper bags full of booze. I’m sure a few people were wondering what a few students at Hogwarts were doing coming out of there with so many booze bags, but I suddenly found that I didn’t care.

At this point, I wasn’t caring about much—maybe slaughtering several males for irritating me, but other than that my care meter was scraping the bottom of the lake.

“Do you want to stop for a drink?”

I glanced over. “Don’t you think we have enough?”

Oliver laughed. “I was just getting a bit hungry since I’ve been busy teaching you all I know about booze this evening.”

I rolled my eyes and replied with a shrug so he led the way into The Three Broomsticks, a place I had grown to appreciate. We set the bags down on empty bar stools and took our own seats.

Madam Rosemerta handed me a butterbeer.

Insert: awkward.


“So,” I muttered randomly, trying not to look as stupid as I already did sitting there with bags of booze next to the prat Quidditch captain.

“So,” echoed Oliver, sipping on his own drink. “Do you want me to tell the team that I lied about the flying?”

I shook my head. “There’s no use now. Just by my reaction they know. Ellis is going to have a field day with that, though.”

“Just tell him to shove off.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. I just have to make it through this party and I’ll be all set for next term. I’ll figure out a way to explain to the girls.”

“Tell them the truth.”

I glanced up. “The truth? That I was just too embarrassed to learn?”

Oliver did not meet my gaze. “Sure. Tell them what you told me when I found out…well, leave out the crude comments and yelling though. I’m sure they don’t want to hear that.”

“You’re a piece of work,” I muttered.

“Oh, just drink your drink and study your booze.”

I punched him on the arm as he laughed stupidly.

“So tell me,” I said, desperately trying to push him off of his high horse, “what happened with Libby the other night? I heard the two of you arguing downstairs.”

The laughing stopped.

“We’re…we’re all right. For now.” Oliver narrowed his eyes as me and I could tell he was suspicious. “It did take a few bloody hours to convince her that I wasn’t in Hogsmeade talking to girls, but after that she calmed down.”

“Who told her that if you weren’t doing it?”

“I wonder.” He rolled his eyes at me and I started laughing.

It was Oliver’s turn to playfully punch me on the arm.


“What took you so long?” Alicia asked, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table.

I had just walked in with Wood, bags in my arms, and a scowl on my face. I set the bags down on a nearby sofa and shrugged. “We had a hard time finding everything.”

Fred glanced up from snogging Angelina. “Do you two still hate each other?”

Oliver nodded. “I will always hate, Perry. She’s a git.”

I punched him again. “Pot calling the kettle black.” Then I punched Fred. “That’s for making me do that.” The girls smiled and exchanged glances.

I stretched for a moment and was surprised when Oliver’s eyes caught my own. He smiled. I made a face and flipped him off.

That smirk would look nice under the Hogwarts Express.


The party was now only a day away and I was still doing surprisingly well on swearing off men. Angelina, however, did not help my dilemma every time she came into the dormitory swooning about Fred. Alicia threw so many pillows at her that she had to start using Katie’s pillows, and then my own.

“Take it outside!” Alicia cried, throwing a stuffed bear at Angelina after another gush session about how adorable Fred was.

“Oh, I’m not that bad,” countered Angelina, plopping down onto her bed and fixing the pillows. “Katie doesn’t think so, do you, Katie?”

Katie made a face. “Do I talk about George that much?” she asked.

“No one could talk about their beau as much as Ang talks about Fred,” Alicia said, “so don’t worry.”

Angelina threw one of her perfect pink pillows at Alicia’s head.

“Alicia you’re just mad because you’re don’t have—”

“So how are things with you and Dodger?” Alicia said, changing the subject rapidly. “Have you made up yet so you won’t have to go with me to the party?”

I groaned. “No, I haven’t made up with Roger yet. I haven’t even talked to him…but seriously, if he thinks I told Wood all of my bloody secrets and kept everything from him, he’s seriously mistaken. Wood found out on his own.”

The room was quiet and it was then that I knew what was coming.

“So why didn’t you…you know, tell us?” said Alicia.

The ground was suddenly more interesting than the conversation. “I…well, it never really came up.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Katie. “Motion sickness? Come on.”

“Okay, I didn’t want you lot to think I was…”

“You were what? Think you just didn’t learn to fly—we could have taught you!”

I frowned. To be honest, I had no idea why I never told them other than the thought of potential embarrassment. They were, after all, my best friends. We had been through a lot together—including me telling off Wood a few times for working them to death. I didn’t know what to say.

“Okay,” said Angelina, catching the hint that I wasn’t going to reply, “if you have anything else you want to cough up, let us know. Do you have a secret life? A love child with Dodger?”

I threw another pillow at her. “No. Nothing else you don’t know.”

But there was plenty Roger didn’t know.

To a point, he was right. I had walked in there to use him as some sort of escape from my problems, but he didn’t even know about my father. He didn’t know about my inability to fly or about my Quidditch struggles and it was only because I was too humiliated to man up to it.

I stood up.

“Where are you going?” asked Alicia. “Did you forget to kiss Oliver good night?”

Another pillow went off my bed. “I’ve got to go find Roger.”

“So not Oliver then.” Alicia was laughing and Katie stifling her own from across the room.

“Not Wood, no.” I pulled on my robes and a pair of shoes. “I’ve got to talk to him about all of this rubbish.”

“Are you ever going to tell us what the pair of you had a row about?” asked Ang.

“About Wood.”

“Blimey! You fight with him and about him!”

I shrugged. “A day in the life of Jane Perry I suppose.”

Angelina pumped her fist in the air. “Go find your Dodger, Jane!”


Apparently it was harder than I thought it would be. The Great Hall was empty save for a few people chatting around the fireplaces. The library was packed, but not with the less-than-studious Roger. The Astronomy Tower was quiet with third years practicing for the next term and the hallways seemed rather vacant even though it was before restricted hours.

Where was he?


I frowned, taking a reluctantly seat on the marble staircase. This was impossible. Roger was probably just hanging out with some Ravenclaw girl in their common room—getting close and talking about Quidditch or something.

“Jane?”

Or maybe he was standing behind me not talking to a Ravenclaw girl in his common room.

I veered around, flipping hair into my eyes. “Oh—hi.”

He carefully walked down the stairs and for a few seconds the only thing I could hear was the sound of his shoes against the marble. Roger took a seat next to me and frowned, folding his arms.

“Look, Jane,” he began, not meeting my gaze, “I’m sorry for what happened the other day.”

“So am I,” I said quickly. “It was all my fault.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t all your fault. I should have respected you when you said you didn’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to lie, I am still peeved you’re telling Wood things you aren’t even telling your boyfriend, but that’s not my choice.”

I placed my hand on Roger’s arm. He looked so hurt, so sincere. “I understand,” I said softly and he finally lifted his eyes to meet mine. “I didn’t mean to shut you out either.” I paused for a moment, staring at him. “I guess I was just still ticked off at Wood…and some of the things never came up.”

Roger glanced over, a curious expression on his face.

“I never told you…about my family, you know? About my father raising me. It was hard, but I love him.” I didn’t know how to explain it, so I did it in much the same way that I did to Oliver when we were on the porch. Roger was silent when I finished. “And that’s what Wood brought up during the team meeting.”

Immediately, I knew I had hit a nerve. “He brought up your father?”

I nodded. “But it’s all right now.”

“Blimey, Jane! That bloke really has some nerve—especially since you aren’t even on the team!”

Déjà vu.

“It’s fine, Roger. Really. I talked to him about it.”

“Did he even listen to you?” Roger asked. “I bet he just pretended to listen and thought about that upcoming Slytherin game.”

I rolled my eyes. “Cut him some slack, though. He’s just a bloke.” I slid my hand into Roger’s. “Don’t worry about it.”

I could tell Roger was fuming, but for me he was trying to stifle it. Smiling warmly, I reached over and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Are we all right?” I asked.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” Roger kissed my nose gently. “Just…don’t fight about things I don’t know about, okay?” He laughed a bit and for a split second I thought about telling him that before Oliver found out about it, I couldn’t fly. But I didn’t.

“Deal,” I said cheerfully. “Are you going to the party with me tomorrow then?”

“The Weasley twins’ party?”

I nodded.

“I might have room in my schedule for you.” He kissed me again.

I beamed at him. Things were all right now and for the first time in over a week I could go back to the dormitory and gush about a bloke.


Before I knew it, it was Saturday morning and the morning of the party. It wasn’t something that was really special to me, but anything thrown by the Weasley twins was promised to be at least semi-eventful.

To my surprise, Alicia was the one tearing clothes out of her wardrobe first. I lounged on my bed, staring at her as she chucked skirt after shirt after cocktail dress onto the floor. By the time she reached the back, she was screaming.

“I have nothing to wear!”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re a bloody stereotype, Alicia.”

“I am not! Stereotypes have things to wear!”

Angelina threw her a dress. “Wear this.”

“I hate red! I’m not wearing red! It clashes with my eyes!”

Katie threw her a dress.

“Katie, seriously. I would look horrid in this dress.” Alicia threw it back.

I felt like it was my turn so I looked at the panic-stricken Alicia and threw my Charms book at her. “STOP FREAKING OUT!” I cried and she stared at me, stunned. “Find something cute. Put it on. Everyone there has seen you in your pajamas, without sleep on exam days, and when you had the flu. No outfit you wear is going to erase those memories.”

Angelina and Katie started laughing from across the room and Alicia shot them a scowl.

“Fine. I’ll just wear my light purple dress.” She narrowed her eyes and snatched a silk dress off the floor. “What are you wearing, high-horse Jane?”

I shrugged. “Something clean.”

“She already has Roger, she doesn’t have to impress him,” said Katie with a chuckle.

“With her sarcastic personality, I think she should impress him forever in case he starts actually listening to what she says,” snapped Alicia, locking herself in the bathroom.

I smiled and chuckled in reply. Secretly, I had no idea what I was going to wear—who ever did? And if any girl did, they were destined to change their mind ten minutes before they were supposed to meet whatever date downstairs. I was staring into my wardrobe from my place on the bed, making a face at the few random pink dresses and a nice black skirt.

Dressing up was rubbish. I think the party should have been extreme-casual. Then I could have just showed up in some sweat pants and a cute t-shirt. Roger wouldn’t have minded.

I hope.

After a while, however, I finally had to decide what to wear. It was an obnoxious process which reminded me of learning to fly. I even fell on my face a few times trying to put on two different size heels while deciding between them.

“You look a little frustrated,” commented Katie, raising a brow at my efforts.

“I’m not frustrated,” I snapped, kicking off a red heel and trying a silver one. “I’m just having issues with colors is all.”

She snickered. “I’m sure. Don’t forget, Jane. They’ve all seen you with the flu.”

Katie got a Transfiguration book in her face.

At long last, after getting picked on even more by Katie (who could dress in the dark and still look amazing) and getting some smug insults from Alicia (who had finally managed to make herself look decent besides the scowl), I found a decent outfit to impress Roger with. It was a knee-length pink cotton dress with little green ivy climbing up the sides (to counter Angelina’s slutty-looking low-cut black dress).

“Are you finally ready?” asked Alicia, even though she was still coating on eyeliner. Any bloke that didn’t notice her was blind. Or Roger. Because I would hit him.

I nodded, adjusting my hair and fixing the shell necklace I had. “Sure. I might as well be. I was with Wood to buy all the booze so I know no one will notice what I’m wearing anyway.”

Alicia patted me on the back. “Good thinking, Jane.” She opened the door and I followed her out.

As I walked down the spiral staircase with the girls, I realized that most people were already in the Gryffindor Common Room. I could see Roger, dressed in a light blue collared shirt, standing by the fire in conversation with both Fred and George. He was laughing about something, and I wasn’t surprised.

I stepped further down and saw Lee Jordan stretching on the sofa. Libby was adjusting her bust in the mirror next to the portrait hole. Ellis was talking himself up to several third and fourth year girls. He was disgusting.

I glanced over toward the window and my eyes met those of Oliver Wood. There was no expression on his face—no shock, awe, or irritation. There was just him, staring up at me from his seat by the window, dressed in a green striped collared shirt and dark green tie.

Then, just as my left heel hit the hardwood floor of the common room, Oliver Wood smirked.

That same annoying, pompous, gorgeous smirk.

A/N- Thanks to those who have read this far. This is by far my favorite recent fanfic (can you tell?) and I really appreciate all of the wonderful reviews! I really feed off of them, which is why I have been updating pretty frequently compared to a lot of other people. I'm about halfway done with the 10th chapter!

So review if you'd like & I'd love to hear your favorite quotes! I feed off of stuff like this!


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