Quidditch (And Other Distractions)

"Oliver?"

"Yeah." He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. Alicia walked out of the washroom, twisting her shiny hair into a ponytail.

"What´s the matter?" she asked, coming closer. She was fully dressed now, in clean robes, and she looked just as calm and collected as always. "What did McGonagall want?"

Wood shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "I have to go home."

"What?" Whatever Alicia was expecting, Wood thought, that definitely wasn´t it.

"Message from my mother. She wants me home right away."

"Why? Is everything all right?"

Wood hesitated, then shook his head and ran a distracted hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, Allie, she´s getting married."

"What?" She looked at him blankly, as if he had said his mother had joined a Muggle circus or something.

"Mm. They divorced-my mum and dad-before I was born. She´s always had wizards around, but she´s never been serious about any of them before." He swore under his breath and pushed away from the door.

"So you have to go home and see your mother married?" Alicia shuddered. "Not something I´d want to do."

"Your parents are still married though, no?"

"Yup. But Dad´s always travelling." She touched his face. "Look, I know you must be...I can´t even guess how you´re feeling right now. But if you think you could use a friend, and your mother wouldn´t mind, I´ll come with you."

"Really?" Wood felt like a huge load had been lifted from his shoulders. "You would?" Facing his mother and his mother´s new husband-whom Wood had yet to meet-would not be so bad if Alicia were with him. And if his mother cared to wonder about the nature of Alicia´s relationship to her son...well, that was her problem. She was never terribly forthcoming with information about her life, so Wood saw no reason for him to be.

"Sure-what are friends for?" Alicia grinned and reached up to peck his forehead. "We are still friends, right?"

"The best." Wood hugged her tightly. "I owe you one for this, Allie. More like a million."

"Well, you´ll have plenty of time to make it up to me," she said. "The year´s only half over."

Wood laughed and nodded. "Do you have any dress robes with you? I think she´ll want us to bring them along."

"Sure. Meet you downstairs by the fire in five."

Wood left the sixth-floor dormitory and clattered down the stairs, his mind whirling. He was relieved that he wouldn´t have to leave Alicia to go see the stupid wedding-though he didn´t know yet how he felt about his mother remarrying, he knew without a doubt that being away from Alicia would have been awful. Especially were he forced to be with his family for that time.

Trudging into his dormitory, Wood glanced around for his trunk and continued to think. He didn´t get along with his mother very well, and he was honestly surprised that she had invited him to the ceremony. He hadn´t been called home from Hogwarts when his younger half-sister was born five years ago. He hadn´t been called home to meet any of the other wizards his mother had dated. There was always some wizard or another at home when he left school for the holidays, and they usually didn´t stay for more than two holidays together. Wood thought about it, and he couldn´t remember seeing a wizard at Christmas who was still there come summer.

He didn´t blame them.

Wood dug in his trunk, extracting the brand-new dress robes his mother had given him for his birthday. Gryffindor scarlet. He gritted his teeth, wondering if she had been planning this for months. If she had wanted him home for Christmas, she should have said so instead of popping this on him at the last minute and inconveniencing both him and McGonagall. But then, his mother never really thought about the inconvenience to anyone but herself. It had probably been too inconvenient for her to send Wood an owl telling him to be sure and come home for Christmas.

Or maybe she thought that he would have refused, had he known the reason.

Wood swore, low and creatively, under his breath as he folded his dress robes in their protective paper wrapping and put them in a satchel. He didn´t bother to change the clothes he was wearing-if his mother had a problem, he could always change at home.

Muttering to himself about his mother´s awful timing and just hoping that he and Alicia could find some time alone together during the fiasco, Wood went back downstairs, his bag in hand. Alicia was already waiting, a knapsack thrown over her shoulder. She´d changed into her school uniform (sans robe), and looked decidedly nervous.

Wood looked her up and down, noticing that the hem of her pleated skirt was several inches lower than he´d ever seen it before. "Any particular attachment to that uniform that I should know about?"

Alicia made a face at him. "No, dimwit. But the only other clothes I have here are both casual and Muggle."

"Worried about meeting my mum, then?" Wood grinned.

"Yes," Alicia said truthfully. "This wasn´t exactly what I had planned for holiday, you know."

"Me either, love."

The Weasley twins, sitting in a corner littered with candy wrappers and boxes, snickered.

"Sod off," Wood said, though not very heatedly. He reached for the container of Floo Powder on the mantel. It was marked "For Emergency Only" and any unauthorised use was grounds for a week of detention and fifty points from the offending House.

"Do you want to go first?" he asked, offering Alicia the container.

She shook her head once. "I don´t know where we´re going. You´d better tell me, and then go first."

"Right." Wood cleared his throat, took a pinch of Floo Powder, and stepped up to the fire. It felt pleasant against his skin; he wished he could sit in one of the squashy chairs and enjoy it instead of going home. He turned his head to look at Alicia. "You do know that you´re walking into the lion´s den?"

"I had an idea from your reaction," she said.

"I´ve never told you about my family?"

"No, and now doesn´t seem much like the time if your mother wants you there five minutes ago. I´ll be all right. Just don´t leave me alone out there!"

"Never," Wood promised. He turned back to the fire. "Trueword Manor," he said clearly, tossing the Floo Powder into the fireplace. He stepped in a moment later, feeling the rush of the Floo Network engulf him.

Wood had never travelled from Hogwarts to his home by Floo Powder before, though it was not a terribly long trip. His mother had always complained that it was a bit backward sending him all the way to London to catch a train that would simply take him north again. But as she sent him straight to Diagon Alley via Floo Powder and he caught the Underground to King´s Cross from there, she never had to go out of her way and Wood didn´t really know why she bothered to complain. He rather liked riding the Hogwarts Express. It was a fitting way to ease back into school after the holidays, and it gave the students plenty of time to say goodbye when it brought them back to London.

All this flashed through Wood´s mind as he travelled the Floo Network, carefully waiting for his stop. He slowed just before a massive fireplace, and was abruptly spat out onto an impeccably clean stone hearth. He stumbled, caught himself on the edge of the kitchen table, and made sure he still had his satchel with him. Alicia followed moments later, wrinkling her nose at the smell of soot but looking none the worse for the wear.

"Trueword Manor?" she said, raising an eyebrow at Wood.

"Ironic, isn´t it?" He grinned, glanced around the massive kitchen-which was oddly deserted-and dropped his satchel into a chair at the table before collapsing into another.

"How so?" Alicia was looking around, clutching the strap of her knapsack in one fist. "I just thought it was odd."

"A pretentious ancestor-mark you, most Wood ancestors were rather pretentious-"

"Runs in the family, does it? I´d wondered," Alicia cut in.

"Shut it. Anyway, a pretentious ancestor renamed the place some twenty-odd years after it was built. Thought it sounded better than Wood Manor."

"Suppose I´ll give him that."

Wood´s eyes followed Alicia, seeing again the large, well-lighted room he knew so well. There were counters along every wall, shining copper pots and pans hanging from the walls, and huge windows set near the ceiling that let in plenty of light and air. The kitchen took up most of this subterranean story, and it was massive. The laundry and storerooms were also down here in the basement, but none were nearly as big as the kitchen.

"You weren´t kidding when you said manor," Alicia said, glancing at Wood. He shrugged.

The sound of steps made them turn toward the huge wooden door on the opposite side of the room. A beefy woman in a starched apron strode in, muttering to herself. She had light hair and it was impossible to tell just how old she was.

"So you´re finally back, Master Oliver," she said in a thick northern accent. "Your mother will want to know."

"I´m sure," he said, hoisting himself to his feet. "Where are all the house-elves?"

"She´s giving them a speech," the woman said in tones of deep disgust. "Lecturing on behaviour and work ethic during the reception. They´re eating it up-like a bloody concert to them."

"Ah." Wood grabbed his satchel. "Might as well get this over with." He started for the door, Alicia at his heels, and she nearly ran over him when he stopped short with characteristic suddenness. "Nearly forgot!"

"What?" the woman said. "I´m not feeding you until dinner."

"No! I simply wanted to introduce you." Wood beamed. "Penny, this is Alicia Spinnet, a friend from Hogwarts. She´s part of my Quidditch team."

"Spinnet? Not any relation to that painter? What´s his name-Russell?"

"My father," Alicia said.

"Ah. Saw a gallery of his work once. Well, sort of. Saw a bunch of blank canvases with his name on `em. Paintings had run off."

"It happens," Alicia said. "Often."

Wood hid a smile. "Allie, this is Penny. Head Cook at Trueword Manor. She´s here to supervise our house-elves."

"I didn´t know they needed supervision," Alicia said dubiously.

"They don´t," Penny said. "Honest and hardworking-couldn´t find humans what do the same amount of work in the same amount of time. It´s the lady of the house. Likes to complain to guests that you just can´t find the help these days, she does."

"It´s Penny here who kept my head from exploding when I was little," Wood said.

"And a right difficult job it was, too," she said, reaching for a chair and sinking into it. "Spent more time running after young Master Oliver than I did running the kitchen."

Alicia grinned. "I can imagine," she said with heartfelt sympathy. Wood narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Alicia nudged him with her shoulder and giggled.

"All right then," Wood said to Penny, grasping Alicia´s hand. "We´re off before you cause any more trouble."

"She´s in a good mood for news right now, if you have any potentially unpleasant bits," Penny called back to them over her shoulder. "Simply imperturbable."

They slipped through the door, still clasping their bags, and as they started up a clean stone stairway Alicia poked Wood in the ribs. "Master Oliver?"

The tips of his ears turned red. "Mother has these...ideas. About station. Nothing like the Malfoys-less devious, certainly. Had she been born a Muggle, she´d certainly have married a title. As it stands, she married a Wood."

Alicia blinked. "I was under the impression your mother was a Wood."

"No, she was born an Underdown." The staircase spiralled upwards but they walked slowly so they could talk. "My parents married young, and my mother fully embraced the Wood family. When my father realised he really wanted to be a hermit and search for spiritual enlightenment for the rest of his life, my mother was ready to let him go. So long as she could keep the manor and the name of Wood."

"So they didn´t really divorce?"

"Oh, they did. Then, with my father´s blessing, she legally changed her name to Wood."

"Then why the bloody hell did she ever divorce him at all?"

"So she could remarry if she ever chose."

"Oh." Alicia shook her head. "I think I have a headache. My parents may not be rich and my father might not have an ancestral manor, but at least they get along and understand each other. I think I´m glad our places weren´t switched."

"Truly," Wood said, "you are." He caught her around the waist and pulled her to him. Alicia kissed his jaw, rubbed the back of his neck comfortingly, and grinned when he lowered his mouth to hers.

"We shouldn´t-be doing this-in your mother´s-house," she said, Wood kissing her each time she tried to speak.

"What do you say we skip this whole endeavour, pretend we never got the letter, and hightail it back to Hogwarts?" Wood said hopefully, his face buried in Alicia´s throat.

"Penny´s already seen us; it´s too late to back out now." Alicia ran her hands through his short hair. He lifted his head and regarded her with dark eyes. She cocked her head to the side and watched him. This close, his eyelashes seemed impossibly long. "I think," she said, "that it´s not fair you got stuck with those lashes."

"Why not?" Wood rubbed at his eye, and she slapped his hand away.

"Because you don´t bloody well care. But I know plenty of girls who´d kill for them."

"Really?"

"Yes," she said, freeing her hand from his, "and if you smirk about it, I´ll beat you senseless right here."

Wood struggled to keep a straight face. "Yes, ma´am!" He kissed her forehead, captured her hand again, and they continued their trudge up the spiralling stone staircase toward the ground floor.

They emerged from a small door into what Alicia could only assume was the entrance hall. The floor was white tile, richly gleaming with a tastefully muted pattern in brown and sparkling gold, and the ceiling above them was cavernous in proportion, rising two stories at least. A balcony with ornate railings ran the length of the huge hall, spilling into a carpeted stairway that ended ten feet from where Wood and Alicia stood.

An older witch with shining gold ringlet curls stood halfway down the grand staircase, one hand delicately poised on the richly carved banister. She was dressed in vibrant ruby robes-not dark Gryffindor crimson, but deep jewel-bright red.

Wood´s mother.

The fifty or so house-elves clustered at the bottom of the staircase stared at her reverently with their huge eyes. They did not speak. They did not fidget. At first Alicia wasn´t at all sure that they were breathing, but she saw one stifle a cough and was fairly sure this meant they were alive and not lifelike statues.

"...And in conclusion," the woman on the stairs said, "this is to be the biggest and grandest social function ever given at Trueword Manor. I know we have pulled off spectacular before, but this is to be better than spectacular. Is that clear? Have my words been understood?"

She spoke with peculiar inflection, stressing her words as if she meant them with a casual kind of passion that was...seemly. She did not have the thick accent of Penny, and certainly not Wood´s gently Scottish way of speaking. Hers was a blend of high London and northern Scotland.

As the house-elves scattered, half disappearing into the upper corridors of the manor and half descending to the kitchen, Wood squeezed Alicia´s hand reassuringly. Alicia took faith from that gesture and walked with Wood to meet the imposing lady of the house with little more than sweaty palms. She extracted her hand from Wood´s, not quite sure if he was going to tell his mother exactly what their relationship entailed.

"Ah," the jewel-bright woman said, keen eyes raking once over Alicia before turning to her son. "Oliver, darling. Finally." She put her manicured hands on her son´s arms and leaned forward to press her cheek to his. Pulling away, she shook him a little and smiled. The gesture didn´t look completely spontaneous. "I was rather injured to learn you had decided to stay at school for the holiday. I would have called you home had you sent word."

"I did send word, Mother," Wood said, and Alicia noticed a tense stiffness in his tone that she had never heard before.

"Nonsense. You know that Penny herself screens all the mail that comes in."

"I sent an owl," Wood said stubbornly. "I wouldn´t want to inconvenience you."

"Of course not on purpose, darling," his mother said. "You always were such a considerate boy. Might your owl have been lost? I hear that the school owls are not always the most reliable of beasts..."

"I used my own owl, mother."

"Ah. Is this your way of asking for a new owl? You needn´t be so secretive, you know. You have a key to the manor vault at Gringott´s; I wouldn´t have given it to you if I did not expect you to use it."

Wood´s jaw tightened. "I don´t want a new owl, mother..."

"Well, the matter is of little importance. You are forgiven, of course, and I am simply ecstatic to have you home for the occasion!" She beamed, pressed her hands together, and then turned to Alicia.

"Forgive my manners, or lack thereof," she said. "Another guest, Oliver?"

"Alicia Spinnet, mother. A friend from school, and part of my Quidditch team. Alicia-this is Marjorie Wood. My mother."

"Pleased to meet you," Alicia said, extending her hand and feeling decidedly out of place speaking to this woman who was obviously weaned on formality. She was also put out that Wood had not better prepared her to deal with his mother. The fact that she had willingly volunteered to accompany him was the only thing keeping her from outright rage.

"Spinnet...Spinnet...now where have I-oh yes!" Mrs. Wood eyed Alicia. "The artist."

"My father," Alicia said cautiously. Admitting kinship with Russell Spinnet often had varied results and she wasn´t at all sure that Mrs. Wood was an art fan.

"A man with talent, certainly," the jewel-bright woman said. "Though, I´m sure you won´t mind me saying so, a pitiable lack of vision."

"You wouldn´t be the first to say it," Alicia said, remaining calm. She had been expecting worse.

"Mm." Mrs. Wood´s eyes remained on Alicia. Alicia wondered just what the older witch was thinking. "Quidditch, did you say?"

"Yes, mother, I did," Wood said. Alicia recognised that voice now. He was upset and hiding it by being excruciatingly formal. He didn´t use that voice at Hogwarts-he simply exploded. Here, apparently, things were different.

"And what position do you play, dear?" Mrs. Wood said, her eyes trained on Alicia.

"I´m a Chaser," Alicia said, not without a certain amount of misgiving.

"Indeed." Mrs. Wood´s hazel eyes flicked from Alicia to her son for a brief moment. Alicia felt a surge of indignant anger at the double meaning the woman had put into her words. She also felt sure that Mrs. Wood didn´t at all care for a girl athlete in her house.

"Of course, it´s so nice for Oliver to find friends who share his preoccupation with the game," she said, her voice saccharine. "Though one must wonder what he plans to do after graduation-do you graduate this year, dear?"

"No, ma´am," Alicia said. "I´m in my fifth year."

"Ah. It´s really too bad you and Oliver are not of an age. Next year he´ll be off, and you will remain at Hogwarts. Friendships are so difficult to maintain over long distances."

"I´m sure we´ll manage, mother," Wood cut in, and Alicia silently thanked him.

"Quite," Mrs. Wood said, looking as if her son had spoiled all her fun. She cleared her throat daintily, pressing a little handkerchief to her crimson lips, and then waved at the staircase and the entrance hall. "You are most welcome, of course. Any friend of Oliver´s. Now, Oliver, the wedding is to be tomorrow afternoon. I allowed a little time in case you procrastinated and didn´t return home right away. I am glad to see you punctual, at the very least. Your room is clean; ready and waiting for you. Alicia, dear, I´ll talk to the house-elves and see where we can put you. Can you believe it-the entire manor is full of guests! The ones that aren´t here today are arriving tomorrow and staying a night. Well, we´ll find something."

"Mother, if you have a spare cot somewhere Allie can kip in my room. There´s plenty of room and then you won´t have to worry the house-elves. Wouldn´t want to worry them too terribly-you know how difficult they are to instruct." His voice was cajoling and sweet, another new tone to Alicia.

"You have no idea," Mrs. Wood said, putting a hand dramatically to her forehead. "Such trouble I have never encountered with human staff. Your great-grandfather-on the Underdown side-had an all-Muggle staff, did you know? Kept them Obliviated to hide the magical things about the household." She sighed wistfully. "Not a bad idea were it still legal. The house-elves are such trouble, and beginning to put on airs like you wouldn´t believe! I hear that Lucius Malfoy´s house-elf actually quit on him not a year ago. Not that the man deserves any better, such filth as he is, but there you have it. One starts, and the others get ideas. Dangerous business, in my opinion."

"Then why don´t we let them alone for now?" Wood said, catching his mother´s elbow in his palm. "Don´t stir up trouble, you know? Allie can stay with me, and we won´t have to bother them."

It was obvious that he had successfully side-tracked his mother; she nodded absently and drifted toward the kitchen, muttering about "checking on the proceedings" as if the house-elves would suddenly start a mutiny simply because she had suggested such an event.

"Smooth," Alicia whispered in Wood´s ear.

"Thank you, madam," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Eighteen years, and that´s what I have to show for it."

"Not bad for nearly two decades."

Wood chuckled, took Alicia´s hand, and led her up the grand staircase. "Just wait till you see the view."

"Of what?" she said dryly. "Your bed?"

"Of course not," Wood said innocently. "I meant the view from my bed."

"You´re disgusting."

"It´s one of my charms." He beamed.

"Charms nothing. I´m still gonna kill you for not warning me."

"I did warn you," Oliver said. "Right before we left, remember?" They turned down a long hallway with a window at the far end. All the doors were closed; Alicia rather thought they´d be locked as well.

"No, you didn´t. You said lion´s den. You never said anything about snake pit."

Wood snorted, then looked contrite. "I am sorry. I hope she didn´t offend you too badly."

"I must admit that it´s all rather new to me. Being insulted by an adult, that is. But I did volunteer to come with you. Can´t blame you when this was really all my idea."

Wood slipped an arm around her as he opened the last door on the left. "You are an absolute angel, Allie. I don´t know what I´d do here without you."

"I´m here to prevent you from thinking about that," she said, pressing her forehead to his. The door closed behind them with a click, and Alicia got her first look at the bedroom of Oliver Wood.

The floor was softest carpet in Gryffindor scarlet, the walls crisp white. His bed wasn´t all that different from the ones at Hogwarts, though there were no canopy and no curtains surrounding it. A handful of brooms lined the walls, hung on pegs like Muggles might hang their favourite hunting rifles. Here and there were framed pictures of a milky-skinned little boy with big dark eyes and a thoughtful smile. Most of the time he was holding a broom, or seated on one. In the corner there was a small glass case containing several golden trophies.

Alicia stepped up to the brooms and began examining them. There were different makes and models, everything from what looked like Wood´s first toy broomstick to the broom she remembered him riding her first year at Hogwarts, a Cleansweep 5. They were all immaculately taken care of, though quite obviously well-used.

"Nice representation," she said, passing her hand over the first tiny broomstick. Wood´s firm arms slipped around her from behind, pressing her to his chest. His chin rested gently on her shoulder, and Alicia raised an absent hand to touch his cheek.

"Memories," Wood said.

"Is that why you keep them?"

"My legacy-like your first wand or something, I guess."

"Who taught you to fly?"

"Er...nobody."

Alicia craned her head to look at him. "Nobody?"

"No." He shrugged. "My mother thought that the best thing to do with children was buy them toys and leave them to their own devices. I got my first toy broom when I was four or so." He shrugged. "And that was that."

"The rest is history?"

"I suppose."

His eyes grew distant, and Alicia knew he was thinking of the scouts that would be returning to Hogwarts to watch the next term´s games. She could almost feel how badly he wanted this opportunity.

"You´ll make it, Oliver," she said gently. "There´s no way you can´t."

A muscle flickered in his jaw. "We´ve got to win the cup this year. That´s the only way they´ll pay attention to us. And...well, it´s my last year. Our last chance as a team. My last chance forever."

Alicia, not knowing how else to erase the worry in his eyes, turned in his grasp and slipped her arms around him. "You´ll be going after bigger cups soon, Ol. I know it."

"Easy for you to be so sure," he said, but he was looking at her and there was a smile lurking at the edge of his voice. "You´ve still got two more years."

"And I´m good at Divination," she said. "You´re forgetting that."

"Divination is fifty percent chance, forty percent trickery, and ten percent-oof!"

Alicia pounced, knocking him to the carpet. She landed on top of him and pinned him down. "Concede?" she asked sweetly.

"Never!" Wood caught her waist and hauled her close, his mouth finding hers curved into a very sweet smile indeed. "But I yield to your superior knowledge, lover." His hands slid underneath her sweater, scrabbling at her tucked-in shirt, yanking the hem out so he could slip his hands underneath.

"Oliver!" she gasped, trying to twist away. "We´re in your mother´s house!"

"My door´s locked," he said imperturbably. He sat up, cradling her in his lap, his hands sliding against her warm skin.

"Will we be missed?" Alicia asked, her voice still hesitant but her face beginning to flush with desire.

"Not until dinner," he said. "We´ve got hours."

Alicia flashed him a wicked smile. "Not the way you work."

"I didn´t hear any complaints before."

"I wasn´t complaining," she said, lowering her body to his. With more grace than before, she slid her hands inside his shirt and slipped it over his head. His skin looked even whiter than usual against the scarlet carpet. Alicia ducked her head and kissed his throat. "You´re so pale," she whispered against his skin.

His arms slid round her, his thumbs hooking inside the waistband of her skirt. "Family trait-on both sides." He raised his head and caught her lips with his, breaking the kiss only long enough for Alicia to slide her head through her sweater. He worried the buttons on her white shirt with one hand, the other hand still curved across her hip. Sunlight flooded through the big windows in Wood´s room, soaking the carpet in warmth. Neither bothered with an attempt to reach the bed, the carpet soft and warm against their skin as their clothing dropped away in layers.

Wood finally managed to unbutton all the buttons on Alicia´s shirt and push it down off her shoulders. She sat up again, straddling him, golden rays of sunlight pouring through the windows behind her and flooding through the thin fabric of the shirt. She glowed, brown and golden, hovering above Wood, and all he could do was stare at her skin, her black hair covering her shoulders in sleek waves, the material pooling around her lower arms.

He reached up, his hands sliding around her waist, and guided her down to lie by his side. "I love looking at you," he whispered near her ear, sliding the shirt completely away from her skin and letting it drift to the floor. "I love watching us together."

Alicia shivered, pressing against him, one brown arm sliding across his bare chest and down to worry the waistband of his trousers. For the first time, conscious of his words, she watched her skin slide against the milky expanse of his chest. Her arm, the colour of fine tea, glowed against him. She smiled, and his hand found hers, their fingers lacing together. "Tea with milk," she said, and Wood laughed. He brought their entwined hands to his mouth and pressed his lips gently to her knuckles. Alicia traced the line of his lower lip with one fingertip, contemplatively, and Wood took her finger into his mouth, suckling gently, his tongue moving suggestively against her skin. Their eyes remained locked, burning brown, and neither moved for a long moment as understanding flared between them.

"Spinnet-" he tried, but all he could get out were those two syllables.

"Wood?" she asked sweetly, and then she slid her arms around his shoulders and leaned back, toppling to her back on the sun-warmed carpet. She glowed golden against the scarlet carpeting, but Wood didn´t have much time to look. He had fallen with her and now, as they sorted out their tangled legs, he realised that she had deliberately placed him on top of her for once. He almost laughed at that, but the sound was cut off by the very warm, very real sensation of her mouth meeting his, clinging tightly as his hands danced in her hair.

"It´s my good fortune that `lover´ and `Oliver´ sound so similar," she said against his skin as they broke away, her teeth nibbling at his skin. She nuzzled the soft spot just behind his ear and he shivered. His mouth was at her neck, returning to the mark he´d made near her collarbone. He lapped at the little hollow where her breath fluttered, one hand curved over her waist. "You´ll never know," she said, her voice breathy, "what I´m calling you."

"Between the two choices I really don´t care."

"Don´t you, lover?" she murmured, her voice deep and husky. It was a teasing voice, and it played delightedly up and down Wood´s spine. He had called her that before, but the word from her lips seemed even more intense, even more sensual, as if she were telling him where he belonged. Where they both belonged.

And, as always while in her presence, Wood melted. It was like liquefying and streaming into her as their bodies joined, Alicia curving up to meet him with boneless grace. The tiny part of Wood's mind that was still functioning coherently suddenly had an odd thought. When they tell our story, the story of us, they will speak of our love in the language of predatory animals. Like the hunting cats, like leopards of the jungle and lions of the plains, innocent in their desire but deadly in other respects.

This thought was such an odd one to have-especially considering the circumstances-that Wood tried to file it away in his memory to examine later, at greater length. But then Alicia bit down into his shoulder, drawing blood for the first time, and at the same time she moved in a way she never had before, and Wood´s world went blank for an impossibly long series of moments as he lost himself to the sensation. And in the warm, hazy aftermath, he completely forgot that there was anything he wanted to remember save the feeling of Alicia wrapped around him, her heart beating under his ear, her breath making his head rise and fall as he rested against her chest.

"You bit me," he said presently, raising an absent hand to touch his shoulder. It came away damp with sweat and a small amount of half-clotted blood.

"Mm." Alicia raised her head and kissed the small tooth-shaped puncture. "Sorry."

"Forgiven," Wood said idly, rotating his shoulder for a moment before gently pulling away from Alicia and settling next to her on the warm carpet. Alicia stretched in the sunlight like a cat and draped herself around him sleepily.

Like a cat... Wood grasped at something half-forgotten in his mind. Their story...but why should anyone want to tell the story of two students from Hogwarts? There were over a thousand students there, plenty smarter than Wood or Alicia...why should they have stories written about them? Their only claim to fame, besides being casual friends with Harry Potter, was Quidditch. And that? Only time would tell.

Alicia moved against him and chuckled lazily in her throat, nuzzling his shoulder gently. "You´re thinking about Quidditch again," she said, her voice dreamy.

"How can you tell?" he asked curiously.

She shrugged. "Call it intuition. Or maybe...maybe you get this look on your face, but I can´t tell. I just know."

"Mm." Wood felt himself waking up again, the lethargy spilling from his pores like sunlight through the windows. He sat up, watched appreciatively as Alicia rolled onto her back and looked at him, completely at ease in her own skin. And why shouldn´t she be? he asked himself. She´s perfect. "Any other girl would be furious with me for thinking about a game right after making love."

"I´m not any other girl," Alicia said, shrugging. She sat up in one fluid motion and wrapped her arms around her upturned knees. "Besides," she said with the barest hint of a smile, "how do you know I´ m not thinking the same thing?"

Wood grinned hugely. "Have I told you lately that you, Alicia Spinnet, are absolutely perfect?"

She rolled her eyes. "Let´s not get carried away, now."

A breeze outside rattled one of the tall windows, and both heads turned to look. They were several stories up, staring out over a great expanse of formal gardens and wild acreage. The trees looked skinny and naked without their leaves, all their branches exposed, and what grass there was looked brown and dead. But bright winter sunlight flooded the entire vista, glittering and glowing against the different textures of wood, plant, and soil.

Wood pointed through the window at a small copse of trees up a steep hill. "That´s where I learned how to ride a broomstick and where I learned the rules of Quidditch."

Alicia peered over his arm. "Show me?" she said, her eyes gazing out the window.

"Of course."

They dressed quickly and clattered back down the stairs, hastily dodging several house-elves that were busily scrubbing the gleaming floors and wooden banisters. The house was extremely grand, and Alicia found it difficult not to be cowed as they jogged through room after room filled with what she could only guess were priceless pieces of furniture and artwork. Each room seemed to blend into the next, rich colours and exotic textures flashing before her eyes. Everything was dark, muted, and tastefully elegant. Most of it looked astonishingly antique. Priceless.

Wood spared none of it more than a glance as they wound through deserted or near-deserted rooms. They clattered down a stone staircase, slid through a wine-coloured room lined with hunting trophies, and clattered up a few more stairs. Alicia was quite sure they hadn´t passed through this many rooms when they´d first gone up the stairs, but by the fourth hallway and fifth staircase she wasn´t sure which direction she was facing, let alone whether they had passed through any of the rooms before.

Finally she voiced a question. "It´s so quiet," she said, as they turned a sharp corner and faced a sudden window that showed an entirely different lawn than the one she had seen from Wood´s window. "Where is everyone? Didn´t your mother invite hundreds of people to her wedding."

"Probably at a party or something," he said, grimacing. "Just be glad we haven´t met anyone; my mother´s friends are to be tolerated, not enjoyed."

Alicia felt vaguely troubled by this answer, but she didn´t say anything more. Three corridors and two staircases later, they slipped outside a battered oak door into the wintry sunshine. The air smelled colder and thinner than it did at Hogwarts, though even the air at Hogwarts was cooler than what Alicia remembered from her own house.

Wood breathed deeply as they stood on the stone step just outside the little door. There was no sound but a light wind playing in the bare treetops and the occasional bark of a crow.

"It´s beautiful, in a way," Alicia said quietly.

"Yes," Wood said, finding her hand and lacing their fingers together. "And it will always be home...but I think...I think I´ve found something better."

She couldn´t begin to think what he meant by that statement, so Alicia kept silent. The warmth of his palm against hers felt nice, and she squeezed his hand. He turned his head and pressed his lips into her dark hair, smiling a little. He still couldn´t quite believe, quite grasp, the fact that Alicia was-for the moment-his. That she had been willing to enter into a relationship with him. That she was here-here, where he never enjoyed being-and for just this once, he wasn´t alone. He supposed, as they began the trek across the wet, brown gardens, that it was this fear of being alone that drove him to keep Alicia with him. He hadn´t realised, before he´d made the anxious climb up the girls´ staircase and into her dormitory in the middle of the night, just how lonely he was. Just plain lonely. He didn´t want to feel that ever again. Because he knew it would be twice as bad now, knowing what he was missing, knowing the reassurance of waking up to a warm body curled in his arms, seeing smiles that were meant just for him.

A small giggle from above startled Wood out of his ruminations and made them both glance skyward. Wood scowled as he saw his half-sister Ellison sitting in a tree watching them.

"What are you doing there?" he asked wearily, reaching up for her.

She obligingly swung off her tree limb, hanging from her mittened hands, and Wood caught her as she dropped. Someone had had the prescience to bundle her against the cold-she wore a dark blue cloak and cold-weather robes, though her scarf and hat dangled helplessly from a tree branch ten feet off the ground.

"Penny said not to worry Mam today," Ellison said as Wood set her on the ground. "So I came outside." She squinted up at Alicia through the sunlight. "Who are you?"

"Ellison! Manners," Wood said, knocking her shoulder gently. "My half-sister, Ellison Wood," he said apologetically to Alicia.

"Don´t apologise," Alicia said, and she knelt down to Ellison´s height. "I´m Alicia, a friend of Oliver´s."

Ellison cocked her head to the side and studied Alicia calculatingly. "How old are you?"

"I´m fifteen. How old are you?"

"Five. Well, almost. I will be five in two more weeks, and I want a real broomstick!"

Alicia grinned. "You´re a Wood, all right." She craned her neck and looked up at Wood. "All right if we take her with us?"

"Sure," he said, though he didn´t sound completely happy with the idea. He reached out more-or-less obligingly, though, and set Ellison on his shoulders.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her fuzzy mittens curling around Wood´s forehead for balance.

"The wedding," he said gloomily. They reached the end of the garden and started up the hill. It was clear that Marjorie Wood never bothered with this hill or the small wood at the top, for the grass here, while still brown and dead, was long and weeds grew profusely through the matted stalks. Their cloaks grew damp almost up to their knees as they slogged through the mess, and there was a definite squelch to their shoes by the time they reached the top of the hill and entered the wood.

Here the going was comparatively easier, though they walked on slippery moss and mud rather than calf-high grass. Most of the mud puddles had frozen over, which gave them some relief from wet, but it was bitterly cold even under the shelter of the trees. Alicia wasn´t used to the acute cold of Scotland, but she did her best to ignore it. Neither she nor Wood had brought a hat with them when they left the manor, and she hid a smile when she saw that his nose and ears were redder than a Weasley´s hair.

"Did you meet my mam?" Ellison asked, turning her head so she could peer at Alicia.

"Yes," Alicia said.

"Did you like her?"

"She´s very pretty," Alicia said carefully, not knowing exactly how to answer the question. But Ellison seemed satisfied by this and went back to her game of poking her brother in the ear. While she was distracted, Alicia took the time to study the child. She didn´t look much like Wood-or, rather, Alicia corrected, she looked very much like Mrs. Wood. Wood didn´t resemble his mother very much at all, from which Alicia had to assume that he looked a great deal like his father. Ellison had straw-blond hair, very long and very straight, though thin, and the characteristic pale skin of a blond. Her eyes were bluebell, very large and very round, and though her features were still childish she had the look of a child who was going to grow up to be striking.

Alicia was startled out of her train of thought by Wood stopping and pulling Ellison off his shoulders. She shrieked with laughter as he lobbed her over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes and aimed a good-natured swat at her exposed rear end. "Leave my ears alone, girl!" he said. "They´re red enough already."

"Put me down!" she shrieked, her legs beating at the air.

"Not bloody likely," he said.

"Oliver!" That was Alicia.

"What? She doesn´t mind. Do you, Ellie?"

"Nope! Put me down!"

"You´ll slip and fall on your bum in five seconds if I let you down now," he said reasonably, and that was that.

They emerged a few minutes later in a nearly circular clearing fenced in by tall, thick trees. Alicia smiled as she looked around. Someone-Wood, she was guessing-had strung three apple-picking baskets between the trees at either end of the clearing. There was a strip of small stones demarcating the centre line and several shapeless, waterlogged rag dolls tied to the trees along the sidelines.

"Your audience?" Alicia asked, hiding a chuckle.

Wood reddened. "Forgot about those. I was six or so-I think-when I strung those up there." He set Ellison on her feet and stepped out into the clearing.

Alicia followed him, but at a little bit of a distance. She could almost feel how special this muddy little clearing was to him. It was far more like coming home than when they stepped out of the fireplace and into the kitchen of Trueword Manor. Alicia felt something akin to relief as she realised this, simply because she was feeling more and more at home in Wood´s presence-but she didn´t think she could ever feel at home in a manor as large and grand as the Wood ancestral home, or under the delicately-painted eye of Mrs. Wood.

Wood jogged across the clearing and Alicia followed. She smiled when she saw him fiddle with a dilapidated old shed that looked like it would feel more at home in the yard of a Weasley. The door hung crooked, there were gaps big enough to fit small birds through the siding, and there had been absolutely no attempt at chinking whatsoever.

"Let me guess," she said, sliding up behind Wood and touching his waist, "you built that when you were ten?"

"Seven, actually," he said, his ears going even redder. Alicia laughed and kissed the left one, cold against her lips. "Alohomora!" Wood commanded the shed, and it opened obligingly.

"Isn´t that spell a wee bit simple if you want to protect whatever´s inside?" Alicia asked, peering into the shed through a hole in the siding.

"Nobody knows it´s here-I never even locked it when I lived at home." He pulled open the door, which almost came off in his hand, and reached inside. "I don´t know why I bothered-I think I just wanted to do something with my hands and building a place to house my equipment seemed like a good idea at the time. The Insulating Charm I begged Penny to slap on this place is better at protecting the equipment than the walls ever were."

"It was a nice thought, though," Alicia said. "I mean, even with the very best protective charm, it´s not quite the thing to leave equipment out in the weather."

"I thought so, too." Wood beamed. Ellison, apparently deciding there had been quite enough talking, elbowed her way between Wood and Alicia and peered into the open doorway. "Shove over," Wood said, moving her aside so he could draw out a battered chest of Quidditch balls, a single bat for Bludgers, a wizarding first-aid kit that looked like it had been used quite often, and two nondescript broomsticks.

"What are these?" Alicia asked, taking one from him. "I´ve never seen anything so..."

"Boring?" he supplied, smiling. "They´re American off-brands. Nothing special-not too fast, no bells and whistles, but they´ll fly forever."

"How´d you get them?" Alicia ran her hand over the plain wooden broomstick.

"My mother went through a philanthropy phase when I was eight or so. She bought a bunch in bulk and gave them to wizarding children at the local orphanage and hospital. These are the leftovers."

"You have leftovers when you try to give things to people?" Alicia said in flat disbelief.

"I never said it made sense." He pecked her cheek, which made Ellison giggle, and Wood scowled.

"Shh," Alicia said, hiding her own laughter as she smoothed a hand over his scowl and touched her mouth to his. Public displays of affection weren´t really her style, but one little girl didn´t constitute as "public" to her. Wood apparently agreed, or else he was just trying to get back at his sister, but either way Alicia didn´t much care. He slid an arm around her waist-the arm not holding a broomstick-and drew Alicia close, his mouth moving gently against hers.

Alicia nipped his lower lip and moved away, a smile lurking along the edges of her mouth and in her eyes. Wood looked slightly upset that she had broken the kiss, but in silent communication she flicked her eyes toward Ellison and then raised an eyebrow at Wood. He rolled his eyes, but nodded that he understood.

"Come on, kid," Alicia said. "You want to ride a real broomstick?"

"Yes!" Ellison shrieked, jumping forward.

"Make sure she doesn´t fall," Wood said. "It´ll be my neck if the flower girl´s scratched and bruised before the wedding."

"No worries," Alicia said. She rose a foot off the air and hovered, then reached down with one arm and scooped Ellison onto the broom in front of her. Wood followed on the other broomstick, and Ellison shrieked happily as they circled the small field.

The American brooms weren´t racing brooms, and weren´t nearly as fast as the ones they rode at Quidditch matches, but they were plenty fast enough for Ellison, who laughed and screamed as Alicia went into a series of controlled dives and steep climbs, all one-handed, her other arm wrapped firmly around Ellison. Wood followed them easily, matching Alicia´s acrobatics, narrowly missing tree limbs as he flew around the perimeter. Alicia dove into a slow-motion version of the Wronski Feint, which made Ellison squeal louder than ever as they skimmed the waterlogged grass with their shoes when she finally pulled up and out of the dive.

They spent the afternoon playing with Wood´s beat up Quaffle, taking turns letting Ellison fly with them. By the time they were all three soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone, the sun had set and it was growing very dark inside the forest. They locked up the brooms quickly and Wood set Ellison on his shoulders again so they could get back to the manor as fast as possible.