Unintended

Hours later, Oliver stirred from his slumber. He could hear the low buzzing of voices, but when he tried to sit up, he found that he did not have the strength. He felt so heavy, as if he weighed a thousand pounds and was being pressed down into the mattress by an unseen hand. But he could blink, and this he did. His lips parted involuntarily, letting a small noise escape. The buzzing of voices suddenly stopped and then heightened, and he wanted to clap his hands over his ears.

"I think he's waking up!" said Jem, leaning over him. "Oliver, can you hear me?"

Through the muddle of voices, he heard his name, and he managed to make a rasping noise in the back of his throat. Why did he feel like this? What had happened?

"Did you hear that?" said Jem excitedly to the team, which had been assembled in Oliver's room for the past hour. "I think he said something."

He was so incredibly thirsty. "Wa...wa...ter..." he croaked.

"I think he just said 'water'," reported Travis, and Jem immediately conjured a glass.

"He can't drink it if he's lying down," said Luke, and he helped place Oliver in a sitting position.

"Here, Oliver," said Jem, holding the rim of the glass to his lips and tilting it so that a trickle of water came out. Some of it splashed onto his chin, but the rest Oliver swallowed greedily. He drank until the cup was empty, and then he finally opened his eyes to look around.

The team was sting around his bed, some in chairs and others on the floor, all staring at him in the dim lighting.

He coughed. "What..."

"Happened?" said Luke. "You drank too much and blacked out. God, Oliver, you have no idea how worried I was when I came in and found you facedown on the bed. I thought you were dead."

Death may have been favorable over what Oliver was currently feeling now. His entire body was sore, like he had been beaten with broomsticks and then tossed off a cliff. Even the dim light of the lamps burned his eyes.

Luke evidently realised this, since he stood up and said, "Okay, now that he's awake, I think we should let him rest. We'll be taking turns staying with him, so I'll be here tonight."

There was a shuffling of feet as chairs were put away, and each team mate wished him well on the way out. A wave of nausea broke over him, and he vomited over the side of the bed. Luke sighed and cleaned it up with a flick of his wand.

"Oliver," he said, uncovering a bowl of warm chicken broth and bringing it over, "I know this is no time to lecture you, but your drinking has gone too far. You're endangering yourself. I hope you understand that."

Oliver grunted and slowly began to spoon the salty broth into his mouth.

"We're not going to let you have any more," continued Luke. "The bar is empty now, and we've given instructions to the housing staff so it will remain that way. And--I know you won't like this but--there's going to be someone staying with you each night."

"What!" He nearly dropped the bowl of soup.

"I don't care if you hate me for it, but it's for your own good," said Luke firmly.

"I don't need this," protested Oliver angrily

"You need help, Oliver. Face it. You're tipsy at practice, tipsy during matches, and then you're basically drunk the rest of the time."

"That's not true..."

"Really?" said Luke, raising an eyebrow. Oliver fell silent. "I really have no idea how your liver is still functioning, but if you keep this up, it's not going for much longer."

Oliver buried his head in his lap and wished that everything would go away.

"Oliver, look at me," said Luke, forcing his chin up. "We're doing this because we care about you. A lot. If there's something that's bothering you, you should come talk to us. We're a team, Oliver. We'll help you get through whatever this is."

Oliver grunted.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," said Luke, patting his shoulder. "Do you want something else to eat?"

"No," he answered grumpily, and Luke placed the empty bowl on the nightstand. Oliver pulled the covers over his head and curled up on his side.

"Okay, I'll let you sleep then," said Luke, going into the other room to watch television. "Call me if you need anything."

"What I need is a drink," thought Oliver, before drifting off to sleep again.

-------------------------

Meanwhile, Percy had already returned to London, and was back in the office at work. Thankfully, the Minister was having a busy week, so there was no time for him to really think about Oliver. He was staying late tonight since there was a lot to be done for the next day, and going back to his apartment would only leave him time to think.

He was in the middle of answering an owl when the telephone on his desk began ringing. He set down the quill he was holding to answer it. "Percy Weasley, Senior Assistant to the Minister. How may I help you?"

"Alice Newbury, best-selling author and friend, wishes to speak with Mr. Weasley," she said, imitating his formal tone.

"Oh, Alice!" said Percy, surprised.

"Hi, Percy," she said, giggling. "How are you?"

"I am well, thank you. How are you? Why are you calling? Not that I don't want you to call.."

"It's nothing urgent," said Alice. "I was just wondering if you wanted to have a drink or two with me, if you're not busy, of course."

"No, no, I'm not busy," liked Percy, eyeing the enormous pile of papers on his desk. "I'd love to."

"I can tell that you're lying because you wouldn't still be at your office at this hour if you weren't busy. But anyway, would you like to come over in about an hour or so?"

"Sure," said Percy. "I'll see you."

He finished scrawling the letter and sent it off on his way out of the office. He went home, showered, and dressed in more casual clothing. On the way to Alice's house, he stopped by one of his favorite restaurants and ordered two slices of their famous chocolate cake to go. He arrived at Alice's house and rang the doorbell, listening as the melodious chiming echoed throughout the house. She answered the door, looking magnificent as usual in a short, silk dress that brought out the grey of her eyes.

"Oh, you didn't have to bring anything," she said, spotting the package in Percy's hands.

"I had to," said Percy, shaking his head. "You simply haven't lived until you've tried this chocolate cake."

"Well then, we'll just have to save it for dessert," said Alice, leading him into the tidy kitchen. "I assume you haven't eaten yet --and neither have I--so I made us some snacks."

The "snacks" turned out to be expertly baked spinach quiche, mini bacon burgers, grilled peppers, and a soothing mint and apple salad. All of this was accompanied by an excellent selection of wines and cheeses.

"You really are a brilliant cook," said Percy, helping himself to more of the quiche.

"Thanks," said Alice, blushing at the compliment. "I wanted to be a chef, but gave it up once I began writing."

"You could do both," said Percy, bringing over the cake. Each slice had five layers: a rich chocolate fudge sandwiched between layers of chocolate cake, topped with icing and chocolate shavings.

"I haven't the time," said Alice, digging in with her fork. "Wow, you're right. This cake is absolutely amazing."

It was warm and moist, and so rich that they could not eat more than a couple bites at a time. Finally, when he could eat no more, Percy leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine leisurely.

"So," said Alice, breaking the silence, "are you going to come to the masquerade then?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, I am," said Percy. "And I think Oliver--"

"Great," said Alice, smiling. "Want to come and pick out a mask?"

"Uh, sure," said Percy, following her upstairs to the costume room. He walked along the wall of masks, admiring them. They were all of wonderful quality and embossed with intricate designs. Some even had jewels and feathers. HE found a black one that he liked: it had an intricate design and covered his eyes and the right half of his face.

"Try it on," urged Alice, and Percy slipped the mask over his head. He walked over to the floor-length mirror and stared at his reflection. With half of his face hidden from view, no one who saw him would be able to recognize him, except by his hair. It gave him artificially prominent cheek bones and stood out starkly against his pale, freckled skin and flaming red hair.

"You look great," said Alice, and Percy turned around.

She had put on a mask too, a silver one with jewels and feathers. She came closer and put her hands on his shoulders. "Let's dance."

"But," protested Percy, "I don't know how to dance."

"I'm going to teach you," said Alice.

She waved her hand and the racks of costumes moved to give them space, and soft classical music began to play. She placed her left hand on Percy's shoulder and held out her other hand.

"Put your right hand on my waist and take my other hand," she instructed. Percy did as she asked, feeling uncomfortable as he rested his hand on her waist as lightly as possible. "Now just follow my lead."

She took a couple steps backward and then to the side, and Percy tried his best to keep up with her movements and not step on her feet. Who knew that dancing could be such hard work? After a few minutes, he had finally gotten the hang of it a little, and he felt a slightly less awkward and clumsy. Alice seemed to sense this, and she began doing more complicated steps, silently urging Percy to follow. He copied her steps as best as he could while keeping in time with the rhythm of the song.

As the song ended, Alice spun outward, their arms outstretched and fingertips barely brushing now. She twirled back towards him and he pulled her towards him. The music stopped, and she looked up at him, now nestled in his embrace.

"You're a fast learner," she said softly, turning so that they were facing each other. She reached up and touched the cool surface of the mask that covered his face.

He didn't know who had been the one to initiate it, but all he knew was that a moment later, his lips were on hers. He pulled her close, feeling the fluid silk of her dress beneath his fingers. Her mouth tasted of the chocolate cake they had eaten earlier, and he could smell the faint scent of her perfume. He kissed her harder, careful not to let their masks scrape against each other. Just as abruptly as it had begun, Alice broke this kiss.

"Oh, Percy," she said, stepping out of his embrace. "I'm so sorry. I didn't...I wasn't thinking..."

"It's alright," said Percy, turning around and removing his mask. "I--I think it's time for me to go now."

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, seeing him to the door. "I just... Oh, I really hope you won't think badly of me."

"Of course not," said Percy, taken aback. "I would never think badly of you. Thank you for a lovely time, Alice. I'll see you in a couple weeks."

Alice watched as he walked into the courtyard, his outline barely visible in the dark. There was a pop! and she knew that he had Apparated. She closed the door and took the mask off, setting it on a table.

How could she have been so foolishly impulsive? Now everything was ruined. She had liked Percy from the start. He seemed different from all the other men she had been with. More innocent, intelligent, and gentle. Men only sought her out for her beauty, a trophy for their collection of beautiful girls. Not one had ever appreciated or truly listened to a single thought she had. Percy would be different. As an intellectual himself, he could identify with the feeling of never being understood by others. She had thought that beneath his quiet and shy demeanor, he hid a well of passion, and tonight's incident had proven her right.

It had all been an accident. As much as she liked him, she could not bring herself to confess. In all of her past relationships, she had never been the one to confess her feelings. It had always been the boyfriend's job, and she had grown accustomed to it. And now she was at a loss because she didn't know what kind of feelings Percy had for her, or whether he really had any at all. She reasoned that he must feel something for her. Otherwise, he never would have kissed her back.

It was really her fault that they had gotten into that situation in the first place though. She had invited him over with the hope that something like this would happen. She had carefully selected foods that he would like, spending hours poring over cook books. Her outfit had been tailored especially for the occasion--she'd been planning something like this ever since he had last come to her house. And now who knew if he would ever come again?

She sighed at her own stupidity. Tonight's mistake had probably destroyed any chance that she might have had with Percy. Ashamed of her own behavior, Alice hung the mask back on its hook and went to bed early.