In the midst of the voices of the hundreds of people watching us kiss, I heard Cat yell.
"Didn't I bloody tell you so?! YOU ALL OWE ME A GALLEON!"
"So," Cat plopped herself in the chair across from mine in the bar of the hotel, "tell me everything."
I grinned at her, taking a sip of Butterbeer. "You tell me first how you knew."
"Ugh," she rolled her eyes, "it was so obvious. First of all, you were far too happy about sharing a room with Oliver, secondly you didn't protest about having to go and see the pitch before the match, and thirdly, you've had extremely swollen lips every morning since we've been here. Now, how long?"
"Maya's wedding," I mumbled sheepishly.
She laughed. "Maya was right then."
"She deliberately put you in the same room, hoping this kind of situation would happen."
I choked on my drink. "This was planned out?"
"Of course it was! You and Oliver have been tiptoeing around one another for so long it was starting to be a pain in the ass, and we weren't going to stuff you in a broom cupboard when we had the possibility of getting you a bed."
"I should have you murdered."
"Hey! You should be thanking me," her eyes widened indignantly. "I'd better have your kid named after me in thanks."
"Shut up," I hissed, "I haven't told him yet!"
"I haven't told Oliver about Bludger's father."
"The nickname I gave the baby, it's a tradition in Oliver's family – never mind that, I haven't told him yet, so please keep your voice down."
"You are so whipped," Cat shook her head in amusement. "I won't mention the subject again, fine, but you have to tell him soon."
"I know. I will." I caught her doubtful eye. "I will, I promise. Don't give me that look."
"Whatever you say," she shrugged, "I'm only trying to help you, and I hope you know that."
"I do. I just don't know how to bring up something like that."
Cat squeezed my hand comfortingly. "You'll find a way, I'm sure. In the worst of cases you can always live like a puma for the rest of your life."
I snorted. "It's impossible to morph when pregnant."
"What are you two doing here, lazing around?" Benjamin's voice interrupted us. "We're leaving to eat!"
Cat elbowed him playfully in the ribs. "This is girl talk Ben, go away."
He batted his eyelashes at her. "Why? I'm a girl, how hurtful of you to think otherwise."
"Oh, excuse me, sweetie pie, that must be due to your over average pilosity," she placed a hand on his stubbly cheek. "Fine, Benjamina, we're coming."
"I think I might be sick," Cat moaned as we walked out of the restaurant. "That pizza was just too much."
"Honestly, woman, what pushed you to choose a pizza with bacon, chicken and barbecue sauce?" Nicholas scoffed. "You didn't have to wolf down half the onion rings and those carbonara fries before either."
"He has a point, you know. You could have gone for a salad like Kiwi," Tim poked her in the stomach.
"DON'T DO THAT! I'LL PUKE ON YOUR LEATHER SHOES!"
"Cat, stop being dramatic and drink this," I pulled a tiny blue bottle out of my handbag.
She gladly obeyed, and her face went less green in a matter of seconds. "Thanks Kiwi." And then she let out an ear-splitting shriek as Ben slung her over his back, holding her by the knees. "PUT ME DOWN, YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!" She pummelled his back with her fists.
Ben only laughed and continued walking. I'm pretty sure I heard him make a comment on Cat's ass.
I was distracted from their bickering as Oliver slung an arm around my shoulders.
"I haven't seen you much today," I smiled.
"I know, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you later tonight," his hand slipped down my back to squeeze my arse.
"Oi," I slapped it away warningly. "Don't."
"Don't what? Touch your bum or make it up to you?"
"The first one – I'm totally fine with the second option…" I felt my cheeks heat up.
"Is that so?"
"Mmhm," I pressed my lips to his briefly.
"You know you can go into early labour sucking face like that," Cat called out from a few meters in front of us.
"Just because you're not getting any doesn't mean that we have to refrain from acting like a couple," I shot back.
"Who said I wasn't getting any?"
"I won't say," she taunted laughingly.
"Do I know him?"
"Have I met him more than once?"
"Yeppity yep yep!"
She laughed and resumed trying to escape Ben's grip.
Merlin. It couldn't be. Cat and Ben?
Note to self: investigate this later.
Oliver's lips on mine were more interesting right now.
We stepped into the hotel lobby, laughing like inebriated hyenas. A small Greek grandmother had tutted disapprovingly at Oliver and I kissing in public, so much to our regret we had broken apart and walked back to the hotel like civilised human beings – save for a small kiss every once in a while.
I was horrified to admit how easily Oliver turned me on.
"Well, I'm going to bed," my voice was an octave too high.
Cat, never ashamed, waggled her eyebrows at me. "If you had said to sleep, I would never have believed you."
I blushed, but ignored her. "See you tomorrow then…"
A chorus of good night answered me, and I was halfway up the stairs when a rough voice whispered in my ear.
"To bed, huh?"
"Why, Oliver, would you prefer the floor?" He only grunted in response. "What are the others going to say?" I turned to him in mock horror.
"Let them talk, I don't give a flying fuck." And with that, he hoisted me into his arms, carrying me to the bedroom we were sharing.
As soon as the door snapped shut, I fiercely attacked his mouth with mine. He answered eagerly, laying me on the bed, while I moved my hands to his shirt. It took us less than a minute to be both in our undergarments.
"So, Keeper Wood," I bit his neck, enjoying the way his hands pulled me closer in response, "I think you deserve to be congratulated for your victory, yes?"
The congratulations lasted all night.
I woke up to the bang of the door against the wall.
"Please tell me you guys aren't naked under those sheets," Cat violently opened the curtains.
"We are," I grumbled. "Go away."
"We're leaving for a visit in an hour and a half. You'd better be ready." She left as brusquely as she had entered.
"An hour and a half?" Oliver mumbled into my hair.
"You heard her," I stretched. "I'm going to shower."
He didn't move, instead closing his eyes again.
I paused at the bathroom door. "I said, I'm going to shower. Want to come?"
Oliver Wood has never run out of bed so fast.
I dropped my travel bag on the floor of the living room, stepping out of the fireplace. Bludger was kicking again, and I was starting to get a back ache.
Oliver and the boys had gone back to their respective flat; Cat was under the shower. I groaned. Where were the people who gave decent massages when you needed them?
I was huddled up in the sofa with a glass of juice when Cat walked in. My jaw dropped.
"Where are you going?"
"Oh. Erm. To Maya's place…" She fiddled with her hair uncomfortably.
"Dressed like that?" She was wearing tight red jeans, a denim shirt and platform shoes.
"Yes, I suppose?"
"Who is it?"
"Maya!" She insisted.
"If you're trying to seduce Liam, then I'll believe you."
"Fine, it's not Maya."
"Thank you, I figured that much. Tell me."
"Not yet," she bit her lip. "I'm not sure how this will develop, so I don't want to tell you. And you'd tell Oliver."
"True," I had to agree to that one, "but why does that matter?"
"Team members aren't allowed to date one another."
While I spat out my drink, she turned on her heel and Disapparated.
It was the beginning of June, I was eight months pregnant, and Oliver was still completely unaware of his role with Bludger.
It was a disaster.
For the past few days, Cat had been repeatedly nagging me to talk to Oliver, which is how I found myself sitting across from him in the kitchen of his flat.
"Is quiche okay for you? I can't really cook anything else…" He looked at me sheepishly.
"Fine," I didn't think I'd be eating much that evening anyway.
I watched, an increasing sense of panic rising in my stomach, as he busied himself around the kitchen, prancing around in an apron labelled "The best thing I could have for dinner is you".
"Who got you your apron?"
"Um, that would be Greg," he looked a bit embarrassed. "I got him boxers with 'Proceed with caution' written on them."
I let out a small laugh. "Thanks, I really needed to know what kind of boxers Gregory Davis owns; that was the piece of information that was missing for my life to be complete."
"He also has a pair that states 'You don't need to be a Seeker to find what's in here', if you're interested."
"Thank you, Oliver. How lovely to know. I don't go about describing my bras to you, do I?"
"Well, you don't need to," he pointed out. "I've seen them all already."
The stress was slowly fading, and I knew where this kind of discussion would lead. "I don't think so," I teased, unbuttoning one of the buttons of my shirt. "This one is new."
Oliver untied his apron, eyeing me with interest, while I pulled my shirt down a bit, revealing a little piece of black lace.
Cat had firmly insisted that I needed to have all "arguments" in my favour, the "argument" being a push-up lacy black bra and matching underwear, and a near transparent white shirt. Honestly.
Although I had to give her some credit: it was working better than I would have thought.
"Is it?" Oliver had moved closer to me, fingers toying with the skin just over the lace. "I think I would have a better look at you if I did this."
He pulled out his wand, and flicked it at me, muttering Auguamenti under his breath.
The shirt plastered itself to my skin almost immediately, turning completely transparent. Oliver smirked.
"Much better. Although I'm sure it would be even better if you took it off entirely." He peeled my shirt off slowly.
"The shirt, or the bra?" I asked as innocently as I could muster – yes, because one is not exactly innocent in such a situation, you know?
Needless to say we both ended up on the sofa, and the quiche was left to burn in the oven.
We had a dinner of takeaway Chinese food instead, and I was now comfortably snuggling against him, while he played with a small car on my bump.
"One month left…"
"It's going to be long," I sighed.
"I'm impressed, you know. You've made it through eight months of pregnancy without this kid's father to help you cope."
I sat up, taking a deep breath. "Well, in all honesty, not quite." My voice came out very quietly.
"What do you mean?" Oliver sat up as well, locking his gaze with mine.
"The child's father has been around."
"I thought you said you didn't know who the father was because you were drunk?"
"I was drunk. When the sex happened I mean… But I woke up the next morning and I know who I slept with."
Undeniable hurt flashed across Oliver's face. "Does he know?"
"That I'm pregnant, or that he's the dad?"
"Both." He seemed to be spitting out every word with pain.
"He knows I'm pregnant."
"When are you going to tell him he's the dad?"
"Soon." In, hmm, approximately a minute.
"I swear, if he refuses to take his responsibility as Bludger's father, I will find the bastard and pummel him into the ground until he's six feet under."
"That's going to prove to be difficult."
"Why? Do you think I'm not capable of fighting a bloke who shagged you, abandoned you with a baby growing inside your body and then refuses to man up?"
He was close to spitting fire, his eyes a stormy grey and his hands balled up into fists.
"No, Oliver, that's not what I meant," I choked out. "It's going to prove difficult because you can hardly pummel yourself into the ground."
A/N: Dun dun dun! How do you think Oliver will react? Who is Cat dating? What do you think of Oliver's apron and Greg's boxers?
I would love to hear your theories, thoughts and anything else, really!
I'm also going to shamelessly advertise myself... If you want to read a one-shot on Dominique and Louis Weasley aged six and three, it's up and it's called Bubbles.