Quidditch (And Other Distractions)

Alicia caught up with Angelina and Katie at breakfast, Wood nowhere in sight. She slid into her customary seat beside Katie but didn’t touch any of the food before her.

"Kate?"

"What’s up with you today? I’m sorry if you’re pining for Oliver, but you can’t let some stupid git mess with our friendship."

"I’m not pining!" Alicia snapped indignantly.

Angelina laughed. "Now that’s the Alicia we love!"

"Just having an off morning, then?" Katie asked, buttering toast. "Really, it’s okay."

"Yeah, you should see Bell here when she wakes up sometimes," Angelina muttered, loud enough that the comment was obviously meant to be heard. "You’ll get clobbered for anything you try and say."

"A lady may always have to be sweet tempered, but a witch doesn’t," Katie said loftily.

"Off morning?" Angelina asked Alicia, her voice sympathetic.

"Panicked morning, rather," Alicia replied cryptically.

"How so?"

Alicia paused, fighting back a smile, knowing she was giving herself away and not altogether caring. Now that she was completely awake, she knew that her fellow Chasers wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone. She could trust them like she could trust her own self.

The smile won, flickering over Alicia’s face as her ears went red. Angelina and Katie stared at her for a moment, comprehension dawning on their faces.

"Closed bed curtains…" Katie began.

"Panicked voice…" Angelina said.

"OLIVER!" they squealed together.

"What?" Their Quidditch captain looked at them quizzically as he slid into his seat. All three girls exploded into giggles.

*~*~*

The Christmas holidays finally arrived, and Wood felt rather relieved that all seventh-year boys except him were going home. He looked forward to some peace and quiet. Things were getting far too complicated, what with trying to hide his new relationship with Alicia from everyone else in the school. He was willing to bet that the Weasley twins knew something was up, and likely his other two Chasers, Angelina and Katie. He wasn’t sure about Potter yet, but if the quiet boy guessed something that meant the entire Gryffindor team was silently laughing at his and Alicia’s attempts to conceal their relationship. Wood didn’t like the sound of that. He was looking forward to a nice holiday away from all the whispers, all the giggles, and all the ribbing he’d been getting from other Gryffindors.

So Wood was extremely surprised, a little excited, and a little dismayed when he entered the Gryffindor common room the morning after classes ended to find Alicia curled in a big chair by the fireplace, expertly cleaning her broom.

"A-Alicia?"

She looked up, an ironic smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "Change in plans," she said, guessing at his question. "Dad’s scheduled to tour with some of his paintings in China."

"Didn’t you want to go with him?"

Alicia wrinkled her nose. "There’s so many restrictions on magic there, what with the Muggle government spying on everybody. It’s no fun. I was there for a week last summer—longest week of my life. I don’t fancy spending Christmas there, too." She gave her broom a last loving rub with the oily cloth. "This is heading off to the secondhand shops now," she said with a sigh. "Mum and Dad already told me what they’re sending me for Christmas—a new racing broom."

"Excellent," Wood said enviously. "What model?"

Alicia chuckled low in her throat. "Some new prototype Dad got as a thank-you from one of his patrons."

"Really? What’s it called?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea. They’re going to surprise me, they said. Only told me that it’s German-make. Mum says if the German Muggles can produce the best cars, it only stands to reason German wizards’ll produce the best brooms."

"Let’s see what the scouts say about you on that new broom," Wood said appreciatively.

"Same thing they say now, probably. Big fat nothing." She reached out and ruffled his hair. "You and little Harry get all the attention."

Wood reddened, but the few people scattered around the common room didn’t seem to have noticed. Even the few—the Weasley's’ little brother, Harry, and Hermione Granger—were suddenly too many for Wood. He glanced up at Alicia. "Snow’s stopped. Want to go out to the Quidditch field and have one last go on your old broom?"

"Sure." Alicia stood up, ignoring the hand Wood held out to her, and grabbed her cloak. "Let’s go!"

*~*~*

By the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Wood decided that he didn’t want classes to begin again. He missed some of his classmates, but he was happy to spend time fooling around with Potter and his friends. Not to mention, he had as much time as he liked with Alicia. None of the three third-years said a thing about Alicia and Wood, but Wood knew they had to know that there was something going on between them. It was simply not possible for them not to know.

And so things stood, comfortable but unspoken, as Alicia gave Hermione personal flying lessons (she was still uncomfortable on a broomstick) and the boys played with the Quidditch balls on the other end of the field, so the Bludgers wouldn’t accidentally go for Hermione. Alicia was always armed with one of the bats the Beaters carried, just in case.

The first few days of the holiday shaped themselves almost identically—the five Gryffindors would roll out of bed late, eat toast and jam for breakfast, and wrap up in scarves and cloaks for a morning alone on the Quidditch field. After a late lunch they would return to Gryffindor Tower and play wizard’s chess or Exploding Snap, read comics, polish their brooms, and generally laze around until dinner.

Late evening on Christmas Eve, after an early dinner, Wood felt disinclined to hang around in the common room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were just a little too young sometimes, and tonight was one of those times. Rather than insult them, he went up to his deserted dormitory and stretched out on his bed, the drapes pulled back to let in the lamplight, reading his newest issue of Quidditch Illustrated. There was nothing worth clipping to share with his team, except a tiny blurb about scouts from the regional teams coming to recruit at Hogwarts.

He heard the door squeak open but didn’t look up, assuming it was one of the kids coming to ask him for a game of wizard’s chess—he was a much-sought-after opponent because he always lost.

Circumstances proved him wrong when he felt the bed shift as someone sat down on it.

"What are you doing?" Wood asked as Alicia stretched out beside him, her body silkily conforming to his. He tried not to sound too nervous, but there was a gleam in her eye he’d never seen before, and the fact that they were alone in a stone-walled room where no sound could leak out was very apparent to him. He had a fairly good idea what she was thinking, and the pressure of Alicia’s breasts pressed against him was making it exceedingly difficult to think coherently. He wanted badly to touch her but didn’t quite dare. Hugging and kissing her—making out in the locker room and deserted classrooms—was one thing, but this…this was completely different.

"Seducing you," Alicia said calmly. She licked the soft outer rim of his ear with the tip of her tongue.

"Right now?" Wood blushed instantly, knowing he sounded ridiculous. "I-I mean, we’ll be missed…"

Alicia shrugged and nuzzled his jaw. Wood swallowed convulsively, clenching his hands at his sides in an effort to not reach out and grab her. "You weren’t exactly being social, anyway, up here by yourself…" She smiled as Wood dropped his magazine and turned toward her, one of his arms moving to encircle her waist. "Happy Christmas, Oliver. Come here…"

Their mouths met and something sparked within them, spiraling down into a want too deep to fathom. Clumsily still, but with growing skill and confidence, their mouths opened and their tongues slid together. Wood’s overly analytical mind couldn’t catalogue all the sensations: rough, smooth, warm, wet. Alicia’s callused fingertips slid under his woolen sweater, snagging on the fabric and pulling away with tiny crystalline tears. There was still a shirt between her hands and his skin: he wished there wasn’t.

"Touch me, you oaf," Alicia mumbled between kisses. Her words didn’t come out very coherent, as every time she pulled her lips away to form one, Wood kissed her again. It was like he was drinking her, in little sips as if too much might be lethal.

Wood broke the kiss, eyes a little wild, breathing heavily. "I want to see you," he said, his voice fervent, his free hand straying to the hem of her camisole.

"You first," Alicia said, sitting up and taking his hand. She tugged at it. "Come on, I’ve already seen you without your shirt."

Wood let her pull him upright, acutely aware of the close proximity of their bodies, and with a single motion he yanked off his sweater and undershirt. Alicia licked her lips, more like a scholar than a predator, and ran her fingertips lightly down his chest. Wood’s years of playing Quidditch had left their mark on him—he was lithe, lanky, but with definition in his lean muscles. He tensed involuntarily as Alicia touched him. She bent her head, then, and kissed the juncture of his ribs, in the very center of his smooth, hairless chest.

But Wood he was hungry for the taste of Alicia’s flesh, and he reached for her camisole with bolder hands than before. She raised her arms above her head, golden lamplight flashing on her smooth palms and the curve of her biceps, allowing him to draw the material away from her skin. In the dying twilight and the gentle glow of the lamps, Wood could do nothing but stare. She waited calmly for him, seemingly perfectly at ease with her own skin.

She didn’t have to wait long. Wood gently eased her down to the bed again, settling himself partially on top of her. He touched her stomach, the visible curve of her ribcage, enjoying the feel of silken skin and taut muscle. He splayed a hand on her stomach, glancing up at her dark, amused eyes watching him. The contrast of her brown skin against his milky complexion fascinated Wood, and as he watched her breathe, his hand rising with every breath she took, he smiled.

Alicia ran a hand slowly through his short hair, curling down to rub his neck sensually. "Got cold feet again?" she asked, chuckling lowly.

"No," Wood said, and he lowered his head and kissed her stomach, the warm scent of clean skin rising around him. He reached out with his tongue and lapped at her skin.

The rest of the experience passed in brief flashes of sound and color for Wood, enveloped in the smell of clean sweat, his ears full of two fast heartbeats and the hiss of skin against the bedclothes. She was white liquid fire in his blood as they clumsily strove to find their perfect embrace. So close to her, touching her in every way possible, Wood was only able to see small pieces of her skin at a time—the curve of a hip thrown into violent shadow by the lamplight, a golden arm, a lock of midnight hair.

And then sudden completion, perfection, something Wood couldn’t explain, and had his analytical mind drawn a diagram of what he saw, it wouldn’t hold a candle to what he felt. What they shared.

Slowly Alicia unclenched her eyes and watched the spots clear from her vision. She raised a shaking hand and cradled the back of Wood’s sweaty head, stroking his damp hair.

Neither of them felt much like moving, and for a long moment they did nothing but breathe. Then Wood slowly raised his head and met Alicia’s dark eyes with his own. There was a moment of silence…

Then they both smiled sheepishly and blushed red. Alicia seemed to find this funny, because she laughed. Her chuckle infected Wood, and he laughed too. He bumped his forehead against Alicia’s, and she kissed his mouth gently.

"So that’s that, I guess."

"Guess so." Alicia grinned.

Wood kissed her and scrabbled for his blankets, drawing them up around himself and Alicia.

"It’s not—" Alicia yawned, "—bedtime yet."

"Yes it is," Wood said, nuzzling up next to her. She stroked his cheek with a finger and slid her other arm around his waist as he rested his head next to hers on the pillow. He slipped one of his legs between hers, lying half on his stomach, her side underneath him. His hand rested against the curve of her hip, the skin hot under his palm.

Alicia kissed him again sleepily and she smiled a little smile. "I’m glad it was you," she said, "this first time."

"Me too," Wood said, and he stroked her hair before returning his hand to her hip. "Alicia?"

But she shook her head. "Not tonight," she said gently, a knowing look in her eyes. "I’ve read enough smutty novels to know what you want to say."

"Well, then let me say it."

She shook her head again. "Some other time." She reached up and kissed his forehead, then kissed the bridge of his nose. "Sleep now."

Though he wondered why she wouldn’t want him to say he loved her, Wood let her alone. She had good reasons for what she did, and she’d tell him eventually. He shoved closer to her and closed his eyes, and just before he fell asleep he heard her whisper, "Happy Christmas, Oliver."

*~*~*

"Ron, what are you on about this time? I thought I said to wake up Oliver."

"Shh! You’ll wake them up!"

"Them?" Twin footsteps shuffled across the floor, and vaguely Wood wondered why Fred, George, and their little brother should be in his dormitory. Still three-quarters asleep, he moved his hand slightly on Alicia’s hip and tried to remember why he felt like he’d gone to bed after Quidditch practice without bathing.

"Bloody…" Fred’s voice trailed off as the twin steps reached the bed. "Wonder how long this’s been going on."

"Bet you a Sickle you wake ‘em up," Ron hissed. "Shut up!"

"No bet," George said. "I wanna wake ‘em up." He shook the bedpost. "Rise and shine, sunshine!"

Alicia jerked in Wood’s arms and he forced himself fully awake, opening his eyes a second before she did. They looked at each other, looked at the light streaming through the window, and then looked at the gleeful faces of the three Weasleys, each with growing dread.

"Bloody hell," Alicia said, and she rolled over onto her back and buried her face in Wood’s pillow. Wood sat up, blinking, still not completely awake. As soon as he moved his entire body screamed at him. He winced at the bright morning light streaming through the window, winced at the eager faces of the twins, and winced at the back of Alicia’s head as it lay upon his pillow.

"Uh…" was all Wood could say.

"Have a good night, then, captain?" Fred said conversationally.

"Sod off," Wood groaned, leaning against the headboard.

"Is that any way to talk to your friends?" George asked, spreading his arms innocently.

"We just came to wake you up for Christmas, Oliver," Fred said, grinning. "How were we supposed to know you were…otherwise engaged?"

Alicia turned over, then, hugging a sheet to her chest as she sat up. "Bugger off," she snapped. "Don’t hound him for acting like more of a man than you two ever could."

Wood swelled with pride he couldn’t help but feel when he heard her say that. There she sat, covering herself with a sheet while she sat in his bed surrounded by three redheaded males, and she was telling them off. The little Weasley looked ready to either be sick or run from the room, but the twins seemed not to quail under Alicia’s dark glare.

"C’mon, Alicia," Fred said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "it was an honest mistake. How were we to know you and Oliver’ve been shagging on the side?"

Alicia turned bright red—though Wood bet it wasn’t from embarrassment—and lunged at Fred. Wood caught her arm and held her back, more to keep her from flashing the Weasleys than to keep her from harming his Beater.

"All right, all right!" George said, hauling his brothers out of harm’s way. "We’ll go. You…um…shower and then come down. Right?"

"Fine," Wood said, cautiously removing his grip on Alicia’s arm. She shifted, no longer looking quite so much like she was going to pounce, but didn’t take her eyes from the retreating Weasleys until they were out the door and it clicked shut behind them.

Wood swallowed and looked cautiously at her. The red had died down in her cheeks, and now she looked vaguely disgruntled and sleep-fogged. "Bloody mess, this," she grumbled, and she curled back into the bed sheets again, closing her eyes. Wood smiled and bent over her, pressing his lips to the warm skin on the back of her neck. He ran his palm slowly over her smooth back and settled next to her on the bed.

Alicia turned her head to face him, and a rueful smile passed over her face. Wood could feel her breath, warm and gentle, touch his lips. He badly wanted to kiss her again. "Sorry about that," he said.

"I guess it was useless to try and keep anything from them," she said, shrugging a little. "I did want to keep it a secret, just for a while, but I really should have known something like this would happen."

Wood gazed at her, how she seemed so at ease lounging here, as if…as if she really did belong with him. With a start, he realized that she did. They fit together so well, as if nothing were more natural than waking up next to each other. Wood desperately wanted to know, suddenly, how she felt. And not about the Weasley’s impromptu wake-up call, but about him, about the past night, and about them as an entity. He swallowed nervously as he gazed at her quiet eyes, then suddenly leaned down and touched his lips to her forehead. He moved lower, intending to kiss her nose, but she jerked her head up and her mouth met his instead.

It was the gentlest kiss Wood had ever experienced, his mouth tingling with the sweetness of her soft lips easing over his, and he knew in that moment that she felt the same way he did. There was no need to ask the questions or hear her answers. They simply fit.

She broke the kiss slowly, easing away from him and settling back to the pillow. Wood leaned close over her and brushed his eyelashes against her cheek. She shivered at the strange, intimate contact and ran a hand through his hair.

"They’ll be up here again if we don’t go down," she said reluctantly.

"I know." Wood silently cursed his Beaters. He devoutly wished he could spend Christmas morning in bed with the most perfect Chaser at Hogwarts, but with the Weasleys downstairs that was quite impossible. Slowly, hating every moment, Wood sat up and pushed the blankets away from his body. A rush of cold air greeted him and he shivered and groped for his bathrobe. He felt the bed shift and saw Alicia lean down and grab her scarlet pants, pulling them on. Her skin glowed in the morning sun, and Wood watched her bend and stretch, popping her back.

"Shower?" he asked, making a quick decision in his head.

Alicia turned her head and looked at him, and Wood knew she knew what he was thinking. Or, rather, feeling. She smiled. "Of course," she said, and together they slipped into the empty bathroom.

*~*~*

Ron was the first one down the stairs and back into the common room, his face white as milk. Harry and Hermione looked up from their presents, and both saw the look on his face as he came carefully down.

Hermione frowned. "Where’s Oliver? What’s the matter?"

Ron shook his head, hid his face, and shook his head again.

"Poor kid had a bit of a fright," George said, pelting down the stairs closely followed by Fred.

"Yeah," his twin agreed. "Didn’t expect to find more than one person in Wood’s bed…"

"…their clothes strewn all over the floor…"

"…all twined together like something out of Witch Weekly."

"What?" said Harry.

"We found Alicia and Oliver asleep naked in his bed," Ron said mournfully.

"What!" Percy leaped to his feet. "Of all the irresponsible…"

"Calm down, old boy," George said, patting Percy on the head. "After all, it’s not certain that they’ve been shagging."

"But girls are forbidden in boys’ dormitories," Percy snapped. "As Head Boy, it’s my job to protect the integrity of this school!"

"Come off it," Fred said, throwing himself into a chair. "You yourself have a girlfriend; why deny ‘em a little fun?"

"Penelope and I conduct ourselves in an appropriate manner!" Percy said, color rushing to his cheeks.

"You sneak into deserted classrooms to snog," Ginny said at the same time George said, "Only because you’re in different houses and can’t reach each other’s dormitories!"

Percy reddened still more, but he sank into his chair huffily. "Well, they’d better not let me catch them, or else they’ll be sorry."

"Come on, Perce," Fred said, "it’s Christmas. Be nice."

"Besides," George added, "it could have been a completely honest mistake. It’s not proof they’re doing anything…"

*~*~*

At just that moment, several floors above the warm Gryffindor common room, Wood’s hand was cradling Alicia’s thigh as she hooked it over his hip. Water cascaded down on them, warm enough to fill the washroom with steam. Wood looked through the running water and steam at Alicia’s swollen lips, red and wet. He kissed her, nibbling on her lips, and she laughed.

"Laughing at me already, are you?"

"Always," she said, reaching for his lips again. Wood ducked away, locking his mouth at her neck. He scraped the skin with his teeth, sucked strongly at it, his tongue rubbing against her. Reluctantly he pulled away to find a new place to settle, not wanting to leave any telltale marks on her skin.

Alicia grasped the back of his head as she pressed against him. She drew his mouth back to where it had previously been. "Mark me," she groaned, shoving her hips harder against him. "Make it dark."

Wood smiled, catching the intensity in her voice, and lowered his mouth to her flesh again. Her fingers were sliding against his wet skin, trying to find purchase, but they were both slick from the shower and her nails were too short to dig into his skin—a fact for which Wood was eternally grateful.

Slowly they raised their heads and looked at each other, slowly they pulled apart, and slowly they showered, using the time to soap each other’s bodies and get acquainted with them in a way they had not had time for during the frantic rush of the night before. It was like showering away all tension, Wood thought idly as Alicia stood firmly pressed against his back, her hands massaging his chest and stomach, her mouth teasing his earlobe. Suddenly he spun around, catching her against his front, both of them laughing as they slipped and slid on the wet floor. The hot water had put red into both their skins, and while Wood looked slightly pink, Alicia looked temptingly slippery and warm brown. Wood still couldn’t quite believe that she had chosen him, that she had come to him and asked for his love. It was something he had given her long before, without really noticing. Now he noticed—and he realized the truth. He did love her. He had meant to tell her before, but she had told him to wait. Well, he had waited. He opened his mouth to speak.

Alicia placed two fingers over his lips and shook her head, her eyes gentle. "Not yet, Oliver," she said, smiling. "It’s still not time."

"But…"

"No." She reached up and put her arms around him, her skin sliding against his as the water pounded down on them. "I’m not ready to hear it yet."

"Then I’ll wait," Wood said, slipping his arms around her and drawing her closer. "But I mean to tell you sometime."

She nodded against his shoulder, and when Wood looked down he could see the bright red mark he’d left upon her throat, just above her collarbone. It gave him a rush of satisfaction and possessive pride that he wasn’t entirely sure was healthy, but he couldn’t much help it.

Alicia slid out of his arms and smiled at him. "Ready?" she asked, and Wood reluctantly nodded. She turned off the taps and opened the shower door, wrapping herself in a thick towel before throwing another to Wood. He shivered and drew it around his shoulders, his skin breaking out in goosebumps in the chilly air.

"I’m going back to my dorm to get clothes," Alicia said. "I’ll meet you downstairs, shall I?"

Wood nodded, and she turned to go. He let her get about three steps away from him before he reached out and grabbed her arm, whirling her around. He kissed her fiercely, and she returned his kiss. For a long moment they stood there, shivering in the cold, wearing nothing but towels but refusing to let the magic of their time together pass. Then, slowly, they broke the kiss.

"I’ll see you downstairs, then," Wood said. Again the words he dearly wished to say rose in his throat, but he fought them back down. Alicia didn’t want to hear them yet. He watched her walk away until the door closed behind her before reaching for his clothes.

*~*~*

Alicia strode into the common room dressed in a warm sweater and American jeans, holding her new broom and an armful of candy from her friends and classmates. Fred and George grinned when they saw her, and she scowled.

"What are you two doing here anyway?" she demanded. "I thought you’d gone home."

"We did," Fred said, popping a peppermint toad into his mouth.

"But when we heard why dear ickle Ronnie-kins was staying, we decided to come keep him’n Harry company," George finished.

"Shut up," Ron said irritably, shoving George’s hand away as the twin attempted to muss his hair.

"And Percy came to ‘lend support to the teachers in this dark hour’ he says," Fred said helpfully, jerking his thumb toward Percy, who glared at him. "We got here late last night—arrived by Floo Powder just as these three were going to bed." He nodded toward Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

"I guess you’d already been in bed for hours by then," Fred said innocently.

"And asleep for minutes," George added helpfully. Alicia threw a wizard cracker at them and it exploded with a puff of smoke and confetti. A white mouse landed on Fred’s head and another hit George’s lap.

"Cool!" Fred said, grabbing for the violently pink witch’s hat that burst from the wizard cracker. He removed the mouse and put the hat on his head, where it clashed horribly with his hair.

"Smashing," George said approvingly.

Wood trudged down the stairs, then, combing his wet hair down with his fingers. He glared at the Weasley twins, dropped a deliberate kiss on Alicia’s damp hair, and grinned at Harry. "Happy Christmas," he said to the room at large. They all laughed, and the tension eased.

"What is that?" George demanded of Alicia, his eyes narrowing as he eyed the new broom dubiously.

"My new racing broom," she said, perfectly happily. "German prototype."

Wood extended a hand. "May I see?"

She handed the broom over as she sat in a big chair by the fireplace, the instruction manual in her hand. "The manual says it’s a Blitzschlag—that’s Lightningshaft in English."

"So they think it’s fast, do they?" George said, sliding out of his chair and scooting over to peer at the broom with Wood.

"I think they were referring to the color," Fred said, wrinkling his nose. The broom was made of dull silvery wood that seemed to absorb light and glow. It was sleek, streamlined, and slender.

"Smacks of German engineering," Wood said, nodding. He released the broom and it hovered easily a foot off the ground, waiting to be retrieved.

"Foreign models’ll never replace our English brooms," Fred said loyally.

"It’s not supposed to," Alicia said, her nose buried in the shiny manual. "It doesn’t claim to be as fast as a Firebolt, for example. Says it can outstrip any Nimbus, though." She glanced dubiously at her new broom and shook her head. "It’s so different from anything I’ve seen before. I really can’t tell."

"Won’t be able to until you try it," Wood said. "What else does the pamphlet say?"

"Doesn’t say anything about speed relative to the Firebolt…" she mumbled, scanning the pages. "From what I can tell…it doesn’t claim to be the fastest broom on the market. It’s in a different league altogether."

"Different than what? Fast? A racing broom’s supposed to be fast, and not much else. There isn’t room for much else, with all the aerodynamic charms they slap on the new models…"

"Well, the Germans somehow found their way around that particular problem," she replied, "because this thing is packed with other features."

"Like what?"

Alicia flipped a page and cleared her throat. "‘The prototype Lightningshaft 10 boasts a built-in homing system—with a wave of the wand (wand not included) and a few simple words the broom programs to automatically transport the rider with no steering or outside guidance. Feel free to sleep during those long journeys from stadium to stadium! The all-new Lightningshaft has a special, patented charm which, when activated, effectively makes falling off a virtual impossibility. Distinctive Sensor Charms also warn the rider against oncoming obstacles—can be used with great effect on Bludgers!’"

"So you can play Quidditch in your sleep," Fred said. He looked unconvinced. "Sounds more like a family model to me, girl, not a racing broom."

Alicia shrugged. "My father always did go for the unconventional. But who knows? I don’t plan on activating any of those silly charms anyway. It’s new, and the twigs aren’t all bent and broken like the ones on my old broom. As long as it flies faster than my old Nimbus, I don’t care."

George sighed and handed the broom back to Alicia. "When you said you were getting a new racing broom, I thought it might have been a Firebolt."

Fred snorted. "A Firebolt? A real Firebolt, on a high school Quidditch team? You must be barking mad, brother."

"But you have to admit," Wood said wistfully, "a real Firebolt for Gryffindor would be something."

Nobody noticed Harry Potter smiling to himself in the corner.

Wood sat on the floor at Alicia’s feet, scattering his armful of presents around him on the ground. He no longer cared to hide his obvious relationship with Alicia, and it felt much more natural to feel her jean-clad leg press against his shoulder, her hand occasionally rubbing the back of his neck or running through his hair without fear that they would be found out.

The room became filled with laughter and warmth, and Wood knew with a certainty that he would miss this place when he left at the end of the term. He didn’t spend many holidays at school, but this one ranked among the best he could remember. He felt utterly at peace…

The older students decided not to go down to Christmas dinner that day—the twins, as an apology, filched food from the kitchen instead. They sat by the fire, talking and trying to play a Muggle game called Risk with several sets of wizard chessmen. The pieces kept grumbling about the violence of the game, but didn’t seem to mind pummeling each other when it was time to invade. Wood actually held all of South America for a time until Percy attacked him from the north. "Canada wins!" Percy said, crossing his arms and looking pleased with himself. Alicia had most of Europe and was viciously battling Fred for Russia when the third-years returned from dinner.

"Professor Trelawney says one of us is to die soon," Ron said miserably.

"She at it again?" George said, kicking Percy out of New Zealand. "I’m surprised she came down out of her tower."

"She said we needed solidarity in this troubled time," Harry said, flinging himself into a chair. He hadn’t shown any of the older students his Firebolt yet, and he didn’t mean to. He wanted to keep it a secret for a little while.

"It’s only troubled because she keeps making her rotten predictions," Hermione said, and she edged around Ron to see what they were doing. She frowned as she saw one of Percy’s chessmen pick up Wood’s last remaining man in South America and throw him into the Pacific.

"Professor Trelawney’s never made a true prediction in her life," Fred said comfortingly. "She likes it when you’re afraid."

"Buggerol," George said as he was wiped out of Australia by Percy. "I quit."

"Me too," Wood said, but there wasn’t much in his declaration, as he had no more chessmen on the map.

"New game?" Fred suggested, wiping the board clear.

"I’m out," Alicia said, abandoning her seat by the fire and crossing to a window. She gazed out at the clear night and snowy grounds.

"Me, too." Wood stood up, dodged the empty candy containers littering the floor, and followed Alicia to the window.

"He’s gone," Fred said, eyeing them. "Completely gone. She’s got him."

"His loss," George said, shrugging. He opened a pack of cards and spread them on a table. "What’s your wager?"

"Two chocolate frogs," George said, and the three Weasleys set about teaching Harry and Hermione the finer points of betting candy on cards that changed suit and value on their own. Hermione listened with half an ear, one eye on the couple at the window.

Wood and Alicia couldn’t have cared less that they were being watched. He slid up behind her, slipped his arms around her waist and locked them at the wrist. She leaned back into him for a moment, one of her arms stretching up to cup the back of his neck with her hand. She twisted in his grip and brought his head to hers, kissing him gently.

"I didn’t give you a Christmas gift," she said softly as they parted.

"Yes you did." Wood nuzzled her ear, his voice deep and suggestive. She chuckled and shook her head.

"That wasn’t your present," she said. "That was something that should have happened a long time ago."

"Mm…I don’t know," Wood said. "It seemed like the right time to me." He nipped at her soft earlobe gently.

Alicia turned in his arms. "Are you ready for your Christmas present?" she asked, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

"Depends," he said, cocking his head to the side. "Does it involve a hasty exit upstairs?"

"No!" She laughed and shoved an elbow into his side. "That comes later…"

"All right, then."

Alicia nodded. "Go and get your broom."

Wood raised an eyebrow. "Now?"

"Now." Her tone was definitive. Wood disappeared up the stairs, returning a moment later with his scarf and his broomstick. He pulled on his winter cloak, wrapped the scarf around his neck, and followed Alicia out of the common room.

When they were outside the common room and the door had swung shut again, Alicia cautiously glanced both ways down the corridor. It was deserted. She pulled something from the pocket of her cloak, then glanced up at Wood.

"Don’t ask me where I borrowed this," she said, "because I can’t tell you."

He nodded, and she unfolded a small square of silvery material. Wood’s eyes grew round. "That’s an invisibility cloak!"

"I know," she said, flinging one side around herself and holding the other out to him. "Come on; it’ll be tight, but it’s not like I could borrow two. I was lucky to find this one."

Wood had to stop himself from demanding where she’d found it, remembering his promise, but it took all his willpower to halt the question from leaving his mouth. Whoever it was didn’t want anyone to know, obviously, that he or she had an invisibility cloak.

Wood squeezed in beside Alicia; it was a tight fit especially with the two broomsticks, but somehow they managed. They crept through the silent halls and out a side door, pausing just beyond the doorway to remove the cloak. Alicia stuffed it in her pocket again, making sure the pocket was secure, and then grabbed her new broom.

"Don’t want to leave any footprints," she said, rising a few feet into the air. Wood followed, mystified, as she led him out toward the Quidditch pitch, her new broom lightning-fast and lightning-bright against the dark sky. It shone in the moonlight. She shone. She was like a fairy out here, the intense cold stealing Wood’s breath as he stared at her, letting her fly just ahead of him so he could watch her.

Alicia wasn’t like a delicate flower or a piece of crystal, or anything else flowery wizard poets said about witches. She was more dangerous than that, and smarter, and in a way, that made her even more beautiful. She was like lightning herself, bringing dangerously beautiful light and heat into his world for brief moments that burned in his memory. Wood followed her willingly, waiting to see where she would lead.

They flew into the Quidditch pitch, where Alicia landed silently in the calf-deep snow. Wood landed beside her, curious to know what she meant to do.

"I…" She looked up and smiled at him, tracing the line of his cheek with one gloved hand. "I thought a lot about what to give you for Christmas," she said, "but I couldn’t think of anything you’d really like."

"You come to mind, actually," Wood said, bumping her forehead with his. She chuckled and pushed him away.

"Later, Oliver. I decided that, instead of giving you something you could hold, I’d share something with you instead."

Wood looked at her with soft, inquisitive eyes and said nothing. Slowly she took his broom from his grasp and set it under the eaves of the Ravenclaw locker room so it wouldn’t get wet in the snow. Then she climbed back on her new Lightningshaft and reached out a hand to Wood.

Instantly he understood, and he gaped at her. She grinned and nodded, holding out a hand. Wood hesitated a moment, then took her outstretched hand and slid onto the broom behind her, wrapping his arms around his waist as they soared up into the sky.

The Lightningshaft didn’t seem to mind that there were two people aboard; it rose quickly, gaining altitude until they were far above the silent stadium, surrounded in moonlight and silver-blue gleaming snow. Even the Dark Forest seemed less dark, snow glistening on the tree branches. In the dark silence, the only warm thing was Alicia’s body in front of him, and Wood felt a sense of magic steal over him as he gazed around. He dropped his head as the broom picked up speed, swiftly stealing across the castle grounds. He found a strip of skin above Alicia’s cloak—she hadn’t worn a scarf—and he kissed it, breathing in the warmth of her scent in the crisp night.

"You know those charms that I said I was never going to use?" Alicia breathed into his ear, leaning back so she could see his face.

"Yeah?"

"I lied." She pulled her wand out of her sleeve and tapped the broom, though she said nothing out loud. The Lightningshaft shuddered, changed direction ever so slightly, and calmed again. Alicia cautiously let go with both her hands. The broom didn’t waver; it continued its straight path over the Dark Forest.

She turned a triumphant face to Wood, who grinned back. Flying was the one thing in the world he could truly say he loved, and Alicia was at the top of the list of people he loved. Sharing the two was the best thing he could imagine.

"You know the best thing about having a self-steering broom?" Alicia asked, twisting around so she could see him.

"No. What?" It had begun to snow again, thin wisps of cloud covering the moon for a moment. Ragged clouds spotted the sky, and from them poured gusts of wind and bursts of snow. The snow swirled around the single silver broom, dotting the riders’ black cloaks with spots of shining brightness.

"I don’t have to watch where we’re going." Alicia flipped a leg over the broom, then the other, so she was turned backwards and facing him.

"Perfect…" Wood said, but it was the last word either of them spoke for a long time. Neither was sure exactly who moved first, but their cold lips met, numb fingers tangling in their cloaks, and their warm breath steamed in the snowy air for a brief moment. Then their mouths settled against each other, slow and gentle. They paid no attention to where they were heading, trusting the broom to get them there safely.

*~*~*

Wood woke aching but warm, a sleeping body sprawled over him. Alicia. He turned his head and saw two brooms leaning against the wall of his dormitory, one of them gleaming silver even in the shadows.

Alicia moved in his arms, mumbled something, and buried her head in his shoulder before subsiding. Wood stroked her sleek hair, glad that he had this time to think. He couldn’t imagine, now, how he had ever survived life without her. She was everything he had never imagined, and he was sure now, surer than he had ever been about anything in his life, that he was in love. With Alicia.

Alicia’s hand moved against his side. Wood shivered and rested his cheek against her hair. They’d flown high above the Dark Forest for what seemed like hours last night, the silence of the snow so complete that they couldn’t hear a thing except the gentle hiss of the broom as it cut cleanly through the air. He was sure they’d have fallen off the damn thing if she hadn’t activated the fall-resistant charm. It was all they could do to wait until they returned to Hogwarts—flying in through the window of Wood’s dormitory—before they started pulling at each other’s clothing in earnest. Wood wondered if love would always be like this, this insane wanting, the need to be close to her. It wasn’t the only thing he felt for Alicia, but it was certainly one of the most blatant. He didn’t know how they were going to survive the new term and the return of the rest of the school. Thinking of Alicia and not being able to see her was awful. Seeing her and not being able to touch her was worse.

Her hand moved against his skin again, her thumb absently stroking his side. Wood shivered, his body awakening deliciously. It had been almost twenty-four hours exactly since the first time he awoke in her arms. The Weasleys had been at fault then, but there was no one around now. No one but Alicia and himself.

"Hey," he said, bumping his nose gently against her forehead.

"Hey yourself," she mumbled, her arm tightening around him.

"Happy Boxing Day," Wood said. "I have a Christmas present for you—it’s a little late, and it’ll be later still, because you can’t have it yet."

She opened her dark eyes and an amused smile tickled the corner of her mouth. "When can I have it?"

"We’ll see," he said, his arms sliding around her waist. "The end of the year, certainly. Before then—maybe."

"Then it’s not much of a Christmas present, is it?"

"You’ll like it," Wood said. "Trust me. I hope."

She laughed and shook her head. "What would I do without you?"

"Let’s hope we never have to find out…" Wood caught her chin in his hand and brought her close for their first kiss of the morning. But before their lips touched, the door of the dormitory slammed open. Wood jumped about a foot off the bed and Alicia shrieked, diving under the blankets.

"As I suspected," George Weasley said. "Sorry, you two, but trust me. You’d rather have me burst in on you than McGonagall."

"McGonagall?" Wood said stupidly, the words not sinking in.

"Yeah. She’s down in the common room. Wants to see you right away, Oliver." He grinned at Alicia as she glared at him. "Best if you don’t come down with us, though. Might look a bit suspect. Don’t want any teachers getting ideas. Especially not your head of house."

"Bloody hell," Wood said, climbing out of bed and reaching for his clothes. "What could she want?"

"Dunno," George said, "but hurry, okay?" He left, closing the door behind him.

"What did you do?" Alicia demanded, reaching for her sweater.

"Nothing…recently." Wood yanked on a sock, buttoned his trousers, and looked around for his other sock. He couldn’t find it anywhere. "Unless she saw us outside after dark last night."

"But then she’d want both of us, wouldn’t she? Not just you." Alicia handed him his sweater. "Just act confused and innocent. That usually works with me."

"It does not," Wood said, tying his shoes. "She knows full well that you’re the one beating up on the twins. She just pretends she doesn’t know because she likes you. And she likes to see the Weasleys get their comeuppance once in a while."

"Point." Alicia grabbed him and pressed her mouth to his quickly, then slid out the door. Oliver adjusted his sleeves, finished tying his shoes, and followed a minute later.

Alicia wasn’t in the common room—she’d likely gone back to her own dormitory to make everything seem quite innocent. The third-years weren’t up yet, by the looks of things, but the twins and Percy were sitting by the fire. McGonagall and Percy were deeply involved in a conversation about the dangers of becoming animagi without proper training. The professor raised her head as Wood came down the stairs and entered the common room, and though she seemed her usual stern self she didn’t look particularly menacing. Wood wondered exactly what she wanted with him.

He soon found out.

"Your mother has contacted us," McGonagall said, "through the fire. One of the house-elves took down her message for you. I gather she wants you back home as soon as possible."

Wood felt sudden apprehension prick at his skin and raise the soft hairs at the back of his neck. "What’s wrong?"

"I don’t know that anything is," McGonagall said honestly. "She requests that you leave immediately, through the Floo Network. She’s waiting." She handed Wood a small piece of parchment with a note jotted in clear house-elf writing. "That is all, Wood."

He nodded and squinted at the paper as his head of house left though the portrait hole. "Mrs. Wood wants young Mr. Wood home," the house-elf had written. "Is important, she says. Is to be a wedding, she says."

Wood frowned, a bad feeling washing over him. "Fuck," he said with feeling.

"Something up?" George said, looking up from the paper he and Fred were huddled over.

"Yeah," Wood said, throwing the parchment in the fireplace. "My mother is getting remarried."