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Willows and Wood. by ValWitch21
Chapter 2 : Spoiling dinner and the cons of drinking.
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 14

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Beautiful CI by Sjoeks @TDA.


Previously in Willows & Wood.


So, of course, when Cat walked into the room at that precise moment, I was looking considerably dishevelled and was lying on top of an almost-naked Oliver Wood, my elbows resting on both sides of his head and his hands propping me up by the shoulders.



Shit. And Cat's reaction was not helping. A small smile played on her lips, growing wider and wider until she finally burst out laughing.

"Seriously? You and Oliver? Here? That is disgusting," she was still laughing her head off.

By this time, I had pulled myself to my feet, straightened my clothes and was glaring at Cat, arms folded and eyebrows raised. I waited for her to calm down - those were a very embarrassing five minutes - before grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside into the hallway.

 "I hate Oliver Wood."

"Right. Which is why you were kissing him."

"Please, that was just an unfortunate concourse of circumstances. Plus we weren't even kissing."

"Not to me, Kiwi."

"Listen, Carmen," I insisted (calling each other by our full names is the sign of a don't-give-me-that-shit kind of discussion), "nothing happened with Wood in those bloody locker rooms, and I will explain, but now if you recall properly I have a Quidditch team coming over and I would rather appreciate knowing if yes or no I'm supposed to feed them. And that is the reason I came here in the first place, my presence in Oliver sodding Wood's changing room being an Apparition mistake, so if you could just answer my question that would be spiffing, yes?"

I tend to overreact when I'm angry. And to use words like spiffing. Sorry, but we all have a personal way of dealing with anger management issues, right?

"Yes, they are coming over to eat," Cat was still trying to control her laughter, and had she been anyone else but herself I would have hexed her into next month.

"Well, that wasn't too difficult, was it? Thanks," I said stiffly. "Now if you'll excuse me I have dinner for eight people to prepare". And with that I Apparated straight back home.

 Seriously, I cursed while taking minced meat out of the freezer to thaw, me snogging Oliver Wood in a public place? Come on... a) I hated the bloke, b) I did not ever snog to the point of ending up on the floor, c) Puddlemere stadium, really? and d) Cat was stupid. Valid arguments, all of them.

 I opened a can of peeled tomatoes, angrily wishing I could throw it at Cat's head, and poured the contents into a pot. With a flick of my wand, it started boiling, and I settled down to cut an onion, imagining it was Oliver's face. Hey, I warned you about my anger management issues. I had just thrown the onion in and reduced the stove's temperature when Oliver appeared out of thin air. Hooray.

"What are you doing here?" I sounded aggressive. I probably looked like it too, holding a sharp kitchen knife in my right hand.

"I came to apologise. And to warn you."


"Cat." He eyed the knife nervously, and I put it down.

"Cat what?"

"She decided it would be beneficial for the whole team to know about the situation she found us in."

"You're kidding." He shook his head. "You're fucking kidding. Tell me it's a joke?"

"It's not a joke. The whole team thinks we're together and were about to shag when Cat barged in." 

 Remember what I said about anger management issues, and me not always being able to control my reactions? Well, I didn't morph, but I did somehow ended up hitting Oliver across the head with a wooden spoon.

 "Why didn't you" -whack! - "say anything?"

"I tried to, but... Ow!" he shielded his head with his arms, "they didn't believe me! And you have to admit that the story Cat told them was more interesting!"

 Wrong thing to say. I dipped the spoon into the now cool pot and threw some tomato sauce at his face. Bull's eye, and screw to keeper reflexes.

Oliver spluttered, red sauce dripping off his hair, before grinning wickedly at me. He grabbed a handful of raw meat and pelted me with it, aiming for my forehead. I ducked, laughing.

 "Missed by a mile! You'd miss a dragon inside the Gryffindor common room even if it was Stupef..." I didn't finish my sentence as a second glob of meat landed just in between my eyes.

 Oh so he wanted war? Here goes.

 I leapt for my wand and in a flick, a bag of flour had poured itself on his head while egg after egg cracked on top of it.

 "Not playing fair anymore, are we? Fine!" He hollered the last part, but his eyes were twinkling. It was his turn to use his wand, and I watched, horrified, as the pot of tomato sauce was levitated over my head, then flipped over.

"Oliver!" I roared. "Get over here if you're a man!"

He sauntered up to me. "I am a man, now what?"

 I lunged myself at him, tackling him to the floor. Now, he may be Quidditch captain and Keeper, but I spent three years of my life with nothing to do but climb up trees, swim in lakes and wrestle with Cat. He wasn't getting away if I didn't agree with it.

 Within seconds we were both the exact same colour: tomato red from head to toe, sprinkled with flour, egg shells clinging to our slimy bodies. Classy. But there was no way one of us was going to stop the fight, this was honour we were talking about for Merlin's sake. While maintaining him to the ground, I randomly moved my wand around behind my back, and jar of pineapple opened over our heads, soaking us both.

 This continued for quite some time: pickles, sugar, butter, chocolate, more flour, strawberry jam, barbecue sauce, and all kind of ice cream toppings were poured over us, and every single time the container would fall to the ground and shatter around the kitchen. It was a battlefield.

 We were pelting each other with yoghurt when Cat walked in, and received a blob straight on the nose.

 "What in the name of Merlin's most racy underwear is this fucking mess? And Kiwi, why are you straddling Wood?"

 Excuse me? 

 "Every time I walk in on you, you are in the most awkward positions ever... Can't you two keep your hands off one another?" Cat continued. " And just look at this place... It looks like a bomb exploded in the fridge. I'm cleaning this up while you idiots get yourselves clean. To the waterfall now, thank Merlin the swimming pool has a self cleaning charm on."

 Oliver and I grinned at each other sheepishly. It was definitely worth it, despite the state of the kitchen. I hadn't had this much fun since a long time.

 Cat caught our silent exchange, and huffed. "Out! And wands here, now!" She held her hand out, and we had no choice but to surrender our wands. Nobody discusses Cat's orders... Okay, except for me, but I was not in the position to do so right now, when she was fuming and on the verge of transforming...

 Wait. If she really was mad, we would have been facing a mature puma by now. I watched her carefully: the tips of her ears were twitching imperceptibly.

 She was trying not to laugh, so she obviously had something in mind by sending us away together.

 Us. Together. Alone. Swimming pool. Shit.

 Remind me to kill her someday. Wandless, I couldn't do anything. Except walk out and try to look dignified.

To my embarrassment, nearly the whole of the Puddlemere team was already seated around the living room. I'll give you a quick round of presentations.

 There was Alexander Jones, whom we called Alex, a Chaser. He was the quietest one on the team, but that's only relative because in fact they were all quite loud.

 Then there was Benjamin Peters, referred to as Ben or Benjy. He was the perfect example of a ladies' man, never seen twice with the same girl hanging from his arm. Cat had made it her personal objective to find him a stable girlfriend, to no avail for now.

 Benjamin's younger brother, Nicholas, was one of the Beaters, and, according to Quidditch Weekly, "one of the promising new British talents". I'd never seen him get injured, despite some of his more extreme manoeuvres on the pitch.

The other Beater, and only absentee was Greg Davis.

 The team Seeker, Tim Bailey, was seated a little on the side, next to what was probably Cat's seat. He had joined Puddlemere approximately at the same time as Cat, and they were the two youngest on the teams. This had created a link between them: they were the pranksters, trying to get the others to swallow puking pastilles or dropping itching powder down their robes. They had a pranking competition going since the beginning of the year, and to Cat's great joy, she was winning.

 "Hi," I called out while crossing the room. They gaped, and I'm pretty sure I heard I heard Tim snort. Oliver followed suit, provoking real laughter.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Ben was the only one still able to speak.

"Laps, Peters." The laughter followed us into the pool room, ad was silenced as the door closed behind us.

Well, way to go awkward. Please, I insist, remind me to kill Cat. Whatever, that wasn't the point right now. Knowing the aforementioned girl, we weren't getting out of this room before we were clean. She has issues with dirt and filth.

"We should get this off before it dries," I pointed out to Oliver, stepping under the waterfall. It didn't matter whether or not he answered, I couldn't hear him anymore with my ears full of water. I bent down my head, letting the slimy crust – how classy! – be rinsed off my body. It didn't take much more than five minutes, to my relief.

I was about to move onto drier grounds when Oliver caught my arm. His mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear anything over the roar of the water. I shrugged my shoulders helplessly, and a frustrated look crossed his face before he pulled me out.

"You've still got a chocolate smear on your face."

I stuck my head inside the waterfall again for a moment. "Gone?"

"Nope," he brought his finger to my cheek. "Now yes."

"D'you know you have amazing eyes?" I blurted out stupidly. In my defence, I was too hungry, our faces were too close and his eyes really were beautiful.

What? They were. Light grey in the middle, with a darker outline, and tiny blue specks. Sigh.

Uh, no. Sorry. That did not just happen, you must be on an empty stomach too.

"So, uh, what are we still doing here?" Nice, smooth attempt to change subjects. I'm sure he didn't realise.

He motioned to the door. "We're locked in."

"Thank you, captain Obvious. Now for your sake, cover your ears with your hands."

"Nah, I've probably seen worse."

"It'll be your problem if you end up deaf." He only smirked. Poor thing. He really had no clue.


All of that without breathing in the middle.

Oliver winced, shaking his head. "Maybe I should've taken your advice."

"It's not maybe, it's definitely. I grew up in a family where our normal decibel level was that of a Weird Sisters' concert. And I'm an only child..."

"Ah. That explains a lot."

I didn't get to ask what else it explained because the door opened, revealing an amused Cat. "You called? It seemed to me that I heard your melodious voice..."

I grinned at her. "Yes, I know, so melodious the Fat Lady would be jealous, you may have mentioned it once or twice."

Cat flashed a smile back at me. "Thank you for sparing my saliva. Now that the both of you are clean, do you want to come with us?"

"Where're you going?"

"Muggle club a few streets down to celebrate."

"I'd love to, but we're kind of sopping wet," I reminded her.

She waved it off. "Go get changed, we'll wait for you. But I'm not giving back your wands now." And away she went.

I stared at her retreating back in disbelief. No wands. That meant Oliver couldn't have access to the room that he used at our house. Meaning he had to use mine. At the same time as I was. He was obviously thinking the same thing, because he was blatantly staring at anything but me.

"I don't think we have the choice," I mumbled."Let's go?"

My room was just down the hallway, thin consolation. I knew there were no bras or underwear lying on the floor, I didn't keep a diary. I should be fine.

Cat, being the bitch she is, had left Oliver some clothes that were neatly folded at the foot of my bed. We had no options.

"So, I'm just going to shower,"  I broke the silence and fled to the bathroom.

When I came out, dressed, Oliver was looking at the pictures hanging up on the wall. He pointed to the snapshot on the far left.

"How old were you?"

I smiled. "Three." It was a picture of Cat and me sitting on the side of a sandpit, holding a book. We both had an intent look on our faces, and it seemed we were reading with interest, except that the book was upside down.

"And here?" He moved a few photographs across.

"Eleven, that's just before leaving for King's Cross. We almost missed the train because Cat's owl decided to shit on her robes and then she had to change... Speaking of which, do you want to shower?"

"Oh. Right. Yes." He disappeared from the room, and I was left facing the photographs. Other than a few baby snapshots of myself and my graduation picture with my parents, Cat was with me everywhere. Birthday parties, first days of school, holidays, she had always been there.

I moved over to my favourite picture. We must have been four, and were being held by each other's mother. Maya was standing in the middle, and we were all laughing, probably at a face my father had made behind Cat's father, who was taking the picture.
Our parents had met in Hogwarts. My mum, Louise, was the reckless, clumsy, beautiful Gryffindor. My dad and Cat's, Thomas and Matteo, were the smart but trouble-making Ravenclaws. Yes, that does actually exist, even though I was as surprised as you are. And Cat's mother Maria was the loyal, quiet, equally beautiful Hufflepuff. They somehow all ended up in detention one day, something about rain in Filch's office. It was only our fathers' fault, but mum and Maria happened to be there and committed the crime of laughing, so they were punished as well. Polishing the Great Hall wandless creates links, apparently, and voila! After my birth, my parents and I moved back to Belgium for two years because of my mother's job, before coming back to England and moving into one big country house with the Rodriguez family.

I was startled by the sound of Oliver's voice just behind me. "Can we go?"

I turned around to answer, and found myself centimetres from his face. Damn. He was closer than expected. And, as much as I hate to admit it, hot. Very. It must have been the eyes. I think I was going to hyperventilate.

Shut up, hormones.

"I just need to get my shoes," my voice faltered. I tried to move away, but tripped (I take a lot after my mother). It had to be the eyes. I never stumbled. I didn't have the time to fall though, because Oliver caught me by the waist.

I should have hated him. I should have wriggled away like I would have, or bit his neck again. But I didn't. I simply let him hold me. Because I fit in his arms.

Shit. Excuse me, nope. Didn't happen. It's the eyes I tell you.



"I really do need my shoes," I whispered.

"Oh." He let me go, with a twinge of regret on my part. Ugh. No! I needed to stop. Come on Kiwi, control. Breathe in, breath out, walk away, put the shoes on. Good girl.

"I'm ready now," I informed him.

As soon as we walked into the living room, Cat started drilling her orders around. We were Apparating a few hundred metres next to the club, and walking from there. By now, I think you know how things work with Cat. She orders, you obey. Within minutes we were where we were supposed to be.

On the dance floor.

I know, it sounds cliché. Deal with it.

I stood a little bit to the side at the beginning, holding a drink, just watching people and impregnating myself with the atmosphere. And then I saw it.

Oliver had been dragged away by some girl, if you can call it that. She was all glitter and short leather, straight brown hair following her every movement. Heavy makeup, fake boobs, fat ass. She was so vulgar, it was pitiful.

Sweet Merlin. I was jealous. Why? I didn't like Oliver Wood, I hated him!

Or at least that's what I was hopelessly trying to convince myself of.

Crap. This could not be happening. But then again, neither was some girl going to dance with him either.

I swallowed my drink in one gulp and stormed over to the couple. The slag, as I had spontaneously named her, was moving away from Oliver, just far enough for me to position myself in front of him. I sent her a threatening glare. Back off, bitch. I may hate him but you're not getting any closer.

Great. Alcohol kicking in now.

The music changed, slowing down, and I moved in closer to Oliver. He placed his hands on my hips, mine were around his neck. The song only lasted a few minutes, but it seemed like mere seconds.

I needed to get a grip on myself.

"I could do with a drink," I took a step back. We made our way to the bar, and soon enough two glasses were pushed in front of us.

It was definitely stronger than Firewhiskey because I don't remember a single thing after that.


I woke up with a throbbing head and a disgusting taste in my mouth. Where the hell am I? I was lying on a bed in an unknown room, and, crap, naked at that. And something was breathing down my neck.

Now. Just a moment before the lecture. I've already had sex before. If you really have to know, I was fourteen. Yes, I know, it's young, but we were both in love. That's not the question. I've also already had one night stands, and no, it's not the first time I find myself in such a situation – it already happened once. But it wasn't this bad, I remembered the guy vaguely and knew how things had fallen into place.

Not this time though. I had absolutely no idea. Had anything even happened?

Clutching the sheets to my body, I carefully turned around.

Lying next to me, apparently naked as well and snoring gently, was Oliver Wood.



A/N: So, here goes! Theories anybody? Suggestions? Favourite quotes? Do you think anything happened? And more importantly, what is going to happen when Oliver wakes up?

Please feed the charming box below a few words, they are well appreciated! Here's the deal: first person to review gets mentioned one way or another in the next chapter.

And I'd like to give a huge thank you for the feedback I got for chapter one! You're amazing :)

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