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Chapter 5 : On Anger Management Issues, Changed Mates and Quidditch Rivalries
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On Anger Management Issues, Changed Mates and Quidditch Rivalries:
I don't know who to thank that the spell on our window is still working, because if it wasn't; my wrist would be broken, my dad would be strangling me and our window might have just been shattered. Still, my dad is staring at me, wide-eyed and fuming, having just seen me attempt to punch the window, but soaring through it instead. I can see Luke snickering while stuffing his face and Drake has just flitted out of the door, smirking a little.
“Olivia Kiara Wood, get your arse in here right now!”
Full name, really? It's rather awkward how Olivia isn't even my real name. Just take the 'r' off your name and you've got mine, Dad! I mean really, it's not that hard to remember … and next time, don't drink before you name your child! Bloody nutter he is.
His voice might have sounded a lot more threatening if it hadn't been muffled by our glass wall.
So much for sneaking into my room without anyone noticing.
“No need to use such harsh language, Dad,” I say, stepping through the window instead of walking around to the door.
Yes, I'm a lazy bugger.
He growls. “What the hell was that?”
“It was me, fantastically punching the air because I'm bloody pissed off.”
“You punched the window,” Luke says through a mouthful of cereal. Taking Dad's side, of course.
He's supposed to side with his seven-minute-younger sister. Not his dad.
“My hand went through,” I retort quickly.
“And you knew that was going to happen?” he asks, sceptically.
“Yes.” I say, putting my brown paper bag on the kitchen counter and leaning up against it smoothly. Well, it would've been smooth if I hadn't put my hand on a piece of parchment and ended up sliding to the side a bit.
“No, you didn't …” Luke coughs.
Why are they ganging up on me?
I glare at him and his spoonful of chocolate-y cereal.
Why the hell is he eating cereal?
It's five o'clock in the afternoon.
“Yes, I did.” I defend myself. “I cast a spell so that I could walk through it and no one else could!”
“But you thought it had gone away!” he almost-yells. He always ends up sounding like a spoilt brat when he gets angry.
“So, are we telepathic now?”
He flips me off.
“You're one for comebacks.” I comment, scathingly.
He flips me off again.
“Lucas Atarius Wood!”
Ha. He gets the full name treatment too. At least my name doesn't sound as ridiculous as: Lucas Atarius …
He goes back to his cereal.
Stupid cereal-eater can't even come up with a better comeback than pulling the finger at me.
“Look, Olive, that's not the point!” Dad begins, I roll my eyes without letting him see. “I woke up in the morning: your bed was empty;” What? Would he have rathered there was a half-naked guy in there instead? “there's a bucket of sick stinking out your room;” That stupid cousin of mine is going to die. “your bathroom is covered in water;” Now he's just overreacting. “there's glass all over my kitchen floor and my hangover potion is empty! For all I knew you could've been kidnapped!”
“I wish,” Luke mutters under his breath.
I have had enough of that git. I pick up his wallet and throw it across the room. He's not looking and it hits him square in the forehead (thank Merlin for my fantastic Chaser skills) and falls into his cereal with a splash.
“I didn't finish the hangover potion.” I say calmly, but defensively
“What the fuck, Olive!?” Luke yells, pulling out his wand and standing up.
I duck behind the kitchen counter and pull out my own wand. I point it over the counter and cast a jelly-legs curse towards him. It collides with his cereal bowl instead and it explodes, casting pieces of bowl, cereal and chocolate milk all over Luke and, unfortunately, my unsuspecting father.
“I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS CRAP! ACCIO WANDS!” he cries.
Anger management, much?
“No, Dad! Give me back my wand!” I say, leaping up as my wand shoots out of my hand and into my Dad's.
“Let me talk first!” he yells, his voice full of authority I haven't heard in a while.
It must come from coaching Puddlemere United. Speaking of Puddlemere, I need to see if I can get an interview with them, considering the Holyhead Harpies have filled their spots with a freakin' Parkinson. They will be sorry when Puddlemere accepts me onto the team and we kick their arses. OK, I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but what the heck?
“Olive, I will not accept you getting wasted at my parties and don't think you can ever leave this house without telling someone and I will not allow you to curse your brother in this house ever again!”
Only 'cause he knew I'd kick his arse.
“So it's OK, if I do it outside?”
“Listen! As long as you live under my roof, you will treat me and your brother with respect and if I see you drinking ever again –”
“I'm of age!” I yell, angry.
“– ever again … I will kick you out of this house without blinking! Do you understand me?”
“I'm allowed to drink!”
“I don't want you drinking!” he yells back.
“Why? You're not giving me a valid reason at all!” I say, lowering my voice and trying to sound reasonable as Drake walks in on the foreign Wood drama, whistling tunelessly. He picks up his bottle of Butterbeer and leaves the room awkwardly. We all watch him until he's outside before the Wood fight continues.
“I don't need a valid reason.” he retorts. “I'm your father and you're living in my house. You're not going to become a drunk. You need to stop hanging out with Spencer, she's a bad influence on you.”
I do a goldfish on him. Luke's mouth is hanging open, too. Did my father just insult one of my best friends?
No. Surely not.
“I didn't mean it like that … I just meant … I was talking with her father and –”
“No, Dad, that's enough.” I say, not wanting him to continue. It's not like he's offending her. It's just, we all try to ignore the fact that Spencer has started to drink a lot and it's easy. No one ever talks about it really, we just pretend we don't notice that she's changed so much since school's finished.
My eyes sting a little. Great best friends, I know.
“Can I have my wand back, please?” I ask, tenderly. “I'm going out.”
He hands me my wand, but grabs onto my arm for a second. “Just wait a second, where are you going?”
“To see Scorpius.” I lie, not wanting to tell him it's Spencer whose house I'll be at next.
Do we know anyone else called Scorpius? And why did it matter anyway? He'd never had a problem with him before.
As soon as his hand is off my arm, I Disapparate.
There's a pop as I arrive directly on Spencer's doorstep. I can hear the sound of her Muggle radio playing some music, over top of it is laughing and the occasional muffled word.
Great. She has company.
I knock on the door and there's no answer. I knock again and still no reply. The music's still going and her voice is a bit louder. She obviously can't hear me over her Muggle music and whoever else is in there. So I'm left with one option: invite myself in.
Please, Merlin, make sure she's wearing clothes!
My wish is half granted. I open the door to find Spencer in a black bra and some yellow shorts. There's also black-haired, toned guy who's only wearing boxers, which I'm not complaining about because he is fit! I stare open mouthed at the pair for a moment or two. They're both laughing their heads off. Spencer is on her couch, her hair flailing around like a mad woman, while playing air guitar to a thumping Muggle song. The black-haired guy is sitting at her feet, a wand in each of his hands, smacking them against the table in perfect timing with the beat, while red and blue sparks fly out with each hit. His eyes are closed but he's bobbing his head along anyway.
I should be crying from laughing so hard, but I'm so shocked. I was not expecting this sight. The Spencer I know, should not be dancing around in a bra with a hot, stud-muffin with nice abs. The Spencer I know should've had him out of her house ages ago. The Spencer I know should be curled up reading a book in the setting sun. The Spencer I know doesn't exist any more.
I hesitate, I'm not sure if I should just walk in without permission or not. But at this moment though, Spencer decides to trip over a cushion and goes flying towards the ground. Before she smashes her face into her coffee table my wand is out, putting a shield charm on the table and she bounces off it and onto her sofa. I sigh in relief and rush in, kicking the door closed behind me, checking to make sure she's OK.
She laughs a little at the slightly worried and shocked expression that I'm sure has found its way onto my face. “That was a close one, thanks, Liv.”
I pull her out of the seat as the music goes off. She looks at the tanned boy.
“Can I have my wand back, James?” she asks.
James who? James Potter?
Oh my God.
The fit, hot stud-muffin with ebony black hair and nice tanned abs is James Potter the most arrogant, big-headed captain Gryffindor has ever seen, including my father.
I just mentally called James Potter a stud-muffin.
Am now being sick in my mouth.
I turn and look him in the eye.
“Potter.” I acknowledge him.
He narrows his eyes. “Wood.”
As rival captains of the Quidditch teams, it's our duty to keep our house conflict going on in our years after Hogwarts. It's hard though, considering I'm melting because of his bare chest.
Merlin, how long has he had such sexy abs?
I'm almost drooling.
I'm not actually anywhere near to drooling, as my face is stony.
“How's Scorpius?” he sneers.
“Why don't you ask your cousin?” I spit, how dare he bring him up when he's the reason his cousin's heart broken.
“I am going to murder that little twat,” he says to no one in particular. Watching Spencer pull off her shorts and throw on her dress instead.
“I'd like to see you try.” I shoot back at him, angrily.
“Hey, hey,” says Spencer, looking at us through her full length mirror. “Not so much hostility in my house, K?”
“Apartment.” Potter and I correct her. We give each other glares for saying the exact same thing.
“So, where are you going?” I ask Spencer, plopping myself down on her couch and having a sip of some strange pink liquid, that burns my Firewhiskey affected throat.
Why was he answering for Spencer?
“I didn't know your name was Spencer.” I comment, then looking him up and down, I cringe at his bare chest. Not because it's painful to look at because it certainly isn't. “Put some clothes on, Potter.”
He stares me down.
“Why? Is my half-nakedness too much to handle?”
I have nothing to say to his question, because the honest answer is yes.
He smirks at my silence and I resist the urge to stoop to Luke's level and flip him off.
“Where are you going?” I ask, once again to Spencer.
And once again, Potter replies for her.
“To my house,” he says, “do you have a problem with that, Wood?”
“Why would I have a problem with that, Potter?” I ask, rolling my eyes because he just assumed that I don't like the idea.
As long as Albus is there, I'm fine with it.
“D'you wanna come, Olive?” Spencer asks, suddenly.
“What?” Potter freezes, halfway through pulling up the zip on his jeans.
Fuck, he still has his top off.
Why did I look?
Why did I look!?
“Oh, I don't want to intrude,” she says, blushing and looking at the floor. Finally a Spencer I actually know. “She doesn't have to come if you don't want her to.”
Big puppy dog eyes, sad face and a pile of cleavage displayed. She's begging for him to let me come. Maybe I'm mistaken, this isn't the old Spencer …
“Do you want to come, Wood – Olive?”
It is a nice offer, apart from the clenched teeth and the creased eyebrows.
I want to say no, but I am truly starving and I haven't eaten since Louis bought me that chocolate muffin.
My stomach rumbles just thinking about it.
“Sure, I guess …” I say and Spencer pulls me out of my seat. “Thanks James.” I add as an after thought.
He looks a little shocked at my sincerity. But nowhere near as shocked as he looks when Spencer pulls my top off.
“Spencer!” I yell, yanking my top out of her hands and pulling it over my exposed belly.
Potter turns away politely and pulls on a white singlet.
“Spencer!” I whisper. “What the hell was that for?”
She ignores me.
“Nice belly button ring,” she says, handing me a fancy yellow singlet to wear. I pull it over my head and am surprised at how tight it is. Then she hands me a black, high-waisted skirt to put on and this time I duck into her wardrobe. I'm surprised at the clothes in there. Short skirts, tight dresses and low cut tops, things I've never seen Spencer in. It shocks me a little, but I leave it, this new Spencer has got to be for the best, right?
When I come back out Potter is relaxing on the sofa, sipping on his drink, he looks up as I enter and his eyes bulge a little.
I take that as I compliment.
I pull a long, grey cardigan hanging off the edge of the sofa. It's warm and soft and I'm not sure if Spencer will be getting this cardigan back any time soon. I turn and watch Spencer, she's applying mascara to her already coated lashes. I tap my foot impatiently and Potter eyes them angrily. I tap louder and he glares even more.
Oh God, this is fun!
I click my tongue and tap my feet at the same time. It's quite a feat actually.
Potter is twitching and glaring at an empty bottle of liquor on the kitchen counter. I can almost see the vein in his forehead throbbing and I love it.
It would've been a lot funnier back when we were at Hogwarts, only back then we could never manage to stay in a room with one another long enough without taunting the other about losing a Quidditch game or injuring a player.
I am not that immature any more.
That could have been truthful if I wasn't tapping my foot and clicking my tongue just to annoy him.
I sigh. My quest to maturity is failing.
I stop the tapping and the clicking and he sighs in relief.
“Right, lets go.”
Potter shoots up from his seat and I open the door for them to leave. Hating every line on his face from the smile that comes as I hold the door open for him. I somehow manage to resist the urge to slam it in his face. I'm sure Spencer wouldn't approve. If Spencer wasn't looking, though …
I manage a smile as she glances at me.
Is my behaviour fishy?
If it is, she can't talk.
I mean, James Potter.
I don't know if he even communicated with her between five years of being at the same school!
Spencer grips my hand and we're Disapparating before I can oppose. I don't even know where we're going, I've never been to the Potter's before, it's probably a huge mansion or something like it.
The familiar feeling of having my airway shoved down a tight pipe engulfs me. It feels long, far too long. I can't breathe! There's no air in my lungs and now I'm panicking. I always panic and just as I'm about to faint, there's air around me and I'm gasping for breath.
I calm down in seconds, though and it's just as well, because Spencer is looking at me with pity and Potter is looking like he's hoping I'm going to collapse in front of his eyes.
Like that'll ever happen.
No one knows about my fear of Apparating and I plan to keep it that way.
I stare at the place in front of me. It's huge, it seems to be at least three stories high with white plaster and three horizontal rows of dark wood planks going up the outside walls. Crossed over with vertical ones. Huge windows stare over the forestry that surrounds the house and a balcony on the second floor wraps itself around the left side of the house. There are no fences any where, but taking one step forward I can feel some sort of protective enchantment sweep over me. It tingles a little.
We walk in silence, me a few steps behind. Potter's hand is placed inappropriately on Spencer's hip, edging lower.
What does she see in him? And what is this thing that's going on between them? Will it be over after this night? Or will Spencer actually stay with this guy?
I try not to feel guilty as I hope it'll be over by tomorrow. I do, though, guilt fills me as I realise she's actually quite happy with this arrogant Quidditch player.
Hey, I guess I could learn to love him.
Mentally retching right now.
Potter just shoves the door open and walks in. No knock at all, how rude. Well I guess it is his house. That's if he still lives here, which he probably doesn't. So, yes, rude.
He takes Spencer left and I follow, regretting this decision to have dinner here. I feel like such a third wheel. It's not a good feeling, trust me.
“Hey, Mum,” says Potter, giving his mum a huge hug and a peck on the cheek.
He glares at me, daring me to say it out loud.
I smile evilly back at him.
“Oh, you've brought company,” says Ginny Potter, happily. “Good thing we've got spare seats.”
She smiles warmly at Spencer and I, then she rushes out of the room, probably to get more plates.
I look around the rest of the room. There's a big rectangular table filling up most of the space. Eight high-backed chairs sit around it. Mouth-watering food litters the middle of the table, with five empty plates situated around it. Sitting at the head of the table is Harry Potter. He's wearing round glasses and a smile on his face. His eyes, though the same brilliant shade of green as Albus' seem to be hidden behind his glasses and Albus, who's sitting on his left, seems to have different coloured ones, even though they're certainly the same. Together they look like twins, an older one and a younger one. The hair too, makes me laugh as it sticks up in the exact same way.
“Hey Al,” I say, skipping to the other side of the room and taking the seat next to him.
What? I'm a Slytherin, I'm not going to wait for permission.
“Sober today, I see,” he comments.
I punch him in the arm.
“So you can call my brother by his first name, but not me?”
There goes Potter, ruining my buzz.
“Yes, do you have a problem with that?” I say, politely. I mean Harry Potter is sitting two meters away from me! I have to be polite, right?
“Actually, I –”
“James.” says Harry, warning him through his glasses. “She's a guest.”
Yes. Yes, I am.
Potter huffed and took the seat opposite me, starting up a conversation with Spencer.
“Mr. Potter, it's nice to see you, again,” I say, politely. Always the parent pleaser, except when it comes to my own.
“'Tis nice to see you again, too,” he says, smiling.
Did he just say 'tis'?
Why does Al find it funny?
“Uhh, yeah …” I say awkwardly.
“You don't remember much of last night, do you, Olive?” Al asks, saving me from not understanding what Mr. Potter is going on about.
“Not really,” I confess, sheepishly.
They both laugh.
Oh hell, what did I do?
“Olive Wood, right? Call me Harry.”
“OK, Harry.” I say, shaking his hand. “My dad was your Quidditch captain, wasn't he? Was he as horrible as my mum always said he was?”
“No, Katie would've just been teasing him,” he says laughing and turning as two other people enter the room. My stomach clenches at her name.
Katie. That sounds weird. Katie. She had always just been Mum.
Ginny Potter and Lily, the youngest of the Potter children enter silently. One glance at Spencer and I and Lily turns angrily at her mother.
“What the hell! Albus and James both have their girlfriend's over and you just kicked Drake out. That is so not fair.”
Spencer looks smug at the word girlfriend. James looks a little shocked. Albus and I both blush and shuffle away from each other.
Wait a second? Did she just say Drake?
Surely not my Drake …
“Lily.” says Mrs Potter – Ginny, whatever – sounding annoyed at her daughters whining. “Drake's going back to Ireland tomorrow he needed to go and pack.”
No, my cousin's staying in Scotland, it can't be the same person, but then again he only just decided that a couple if days ago and truly he was supposed to be going back to Ireland. Maybe it is my Drake.
“Whatever.” says Lily, you can tell by her tone of voice that this conversation will be continued later.
I can only hope I won't be there when it goes down.
Lily gives me a smile before her face goes stony again and she takes the seat beside me and begins piling her plate without permission. Harry seems amused whereas his wife looks disappointed in her daughters behaviour.
As everyone else begins to dig into their food, I look around them all, wishing for only one thing. Louis Weasley to be sitting beside me.
I shake my head to myself.
I am slowly becoming obsessed.
Author's Note: So .... I'm not particularly happy with this chapter as it seems like a bit of a filler, but it's needed for the next one, so ... what are you gonna do? Do you like the way I portrayed James? I was going to make them friends, but then I realised since Olive was the captain of the Slytherin team from 5th year to 7th, then they'd probably have a sort of rivarlry thing going on .. also I've never seen anyone portray James with a house distaste so I wanted to try it ..
“Speaking of depression, how was your date with Louis?” she winks at me.
I freeze in my seat. Did Louis have a batch of depression I didn't know about?
“What's that got to do with depression?” I ask cautiously, aware that Spencer had held no emotion when she spoke of it.
“Nothing really, I just said it for effect.”
P.S: How about Spencer?? If you remember what I said in the first chapter about her, you'll realise that this person is completely different and if you didn't understand Olive's worries, then it's because Spencer has changed A LOT and there'll be more about that in later chapters... (:
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