Chapter 37
Despite Oliver’s conflicting feelings regarding Quidditch, flying always managed to calm him down. Nothing but the sound of the wind, the rush of it on his face and hair, leaving little room to think about anything least of all about how risky this plan was.
The Burrow loomed in front of him, a long shadow in the moonlit filled night. Oliver hovered uncertainty in the air for a few moments. He actually wasn’t sure which room Charlie would be in, and he couldn’t exactly use magic outside of school, even to cast Lumos to look into the windows. Which, really, would probably alert every Weasley that was asleep in said rooms.
“Guessing it is then,” Oliver muttered to himself, determined not to give up, no matter how stupid a plan it was.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?!” An astonished Charlie exclaimed from below Oliver.
Oliver blinked in surprise, looking down where he could just barely make out the shadow of Charlie’s head, looking up at him from likely the third floor, where his bedroom was.
Oliver flew downward, descending slowly, noting Charlie’s confused and worried expression. “I came to talk to you, of course. I think Errol must be getting more lost than usual? Or have you just been ignoring my letters?”
Charlie’s eyes didn’t meet his, which sent a thrill of satisfaction through Oliver. “Right, that’s what I thought. So, here I am Charlie. What is it that’s bothering you? Is it because I’m…different? If that’s the case then I don’t think we could be friends anymore because I don’t plan on trying to change.”
Charlie looked at, shocked. “Oliver! It doesn’t matter to me if you,” Charlie coughed, “Don’t like girls…like that. I didn’t mean to run off like that, it just…took me by surprise.”
Oliver was enjoying watching Charlie squirm under his scrutiny perhaps a little too much. “What? Never seen two guys kiss? Well, there’s a first time for everything Charlie. I can’t exactly go around kissing guys that I like in corridors or the common room like you and Rosalie did all last term.”
Charlie scoffed, “If anyone ever gave you trouble about it Oliver you know I’d-”
Oliver laughed, “What? Beat them up? Jinx them? I don’t need that kind of attention, and neither does Marcus.”
Charlie glared back at him at the mention of Marcus’ name. Before Oliver could ask what his problem was, Charlie continued. “Yeah, actually I could get away with a lot this year, since I’ve been made a prefect.”
Oliver felt like he had whiplash, from the sudden change in subject. “That’s…congratulations? I’m sure your parents are thrilled.” Oliver couldn’t resist adding, “If you were still Quidditch captain too that would’ve been even more impressive.”
Charlie sighed, “This again? Oliver, you and the team will be fine. I told you I needed to focus on school. Yes, I’m a prefect but that isn’t something you exactly ask for. Quidditch would only add to my already busy schedule.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “So, I’m guessing you’ll be too busy to really deal with me, then is that what I’m hearing?”
Charlie huffed and crossed his arms. “It seems like you’re going to be pre-occupied with classes, Quidditch and Flint, if his little stunt in Diagon Alley meant anything.”
Oliver stared at Charlie for a moment, surprised. Perhaps Charlie truly didn’t care about Oliver kissing boys…maybe just the boy in question. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because of Marcus? Charlie, that's ridiculous, he’s my friend. He’s not as bad as everyone thinks he is.”
Charlie didn’t look right at Oliver when he replied, “Yeah, well, I don’t like him. So, I guess we really won’t be seeing a lot of each other this year.”
Oliver’s mouth dropped open. “Oh you’re not serious are you? You’re being ridiculous, Charlie!”
“Says that guy who is currently floating outside my window on a broom in the middle of the night. Honestly Oliver, what if your mother finds out?!” Charlie asked, exasperated.
Oliver decided to make Charlie squirm even more…as a test. Purely from a research standpoint of course. “I think I know of another boy who would find this whole thing of me being outside their window quite romantic.”
Charlie’s expression somehow soured even more.
Oliver grinned, feeling victorious. Was it possible that Charlie Weasley was jealous?
“Why does it have to be him Ollie?” Charlie practically whined.
Oliver shrugged, “Like I said, you don’t know him like I do. It’s just a bonus that he bothers you so much.”
Charlie glared at him. “Whatever. Are we okay? I still want to be friends Ollie, even if you’re set on acting like an idiot.”
Oliver grinned, “Sure, I’m the one being an idiot. Yes Charlie, we’re still friends. Just maybe don’t tell anyone about the whole Marcus thing. I’m not sure if it’s even going to go anywhere yet.”
Charlie’s eyes softened. “I won’t say anything, I promise. Now, get home before your mother notices anything, okay? I’ll write to you soon, I swear.”
Oliver smiled, “You better, I don’t just sneak off for anybody you know.”
Charlie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. “Goodnight Ollie, get home safe, and be careful.”
“Night, Charlie.” Oliver flew upwards, and sped off back to his own home.
He smiled to himself, glad to have Charlie talking to him again, and pleasantly surprised that he may even be jealous of Marcus.
Oliver was locking his broom back up, when the full realization of that statement hit him like a stunning spell to the chest. Charlie…was jealous that Marcus kissed him?! There was no way that he actually was…was he? Oliver was walking into the house, still lost in thought, when a hand landed on the top of his head, yanking it backwards.
Oliver gasped in pain and surprise, his mother shoving him backwards into the hallway wall. “Where were you?” She hissed, eerily calm, despite the firm grip she had on his head.
Oliver stared back at her, at the same brown eyes that he himself had, and he had never loathed someone more in that moment. “I was flying. Couldn’t sleep. Getting extra practice in, what’s so bad about that?”
“Do you think I’m a fool?” His mother asked, still holding onto Oliver’s hair.
“No, but you are a pretty shit mother,” Oliver said, noticing too late that the words had actually left his mouth.
Instead of hitting him, his mother stepped back as if he had struck her. “Oh I see, I’m just the worst mother in the world, is that it?” She actually seemed surprised and hurt.
Oliver stared at her, eyes wide with shock. Was she seriously acting like the victim here? “I don’t even know how to respond to that,” He said cautiously, trying to keep himself in check.
“One hour.” His mother whispered.
Oliver was confused? “What do you mean?”
“You have one hour to collect your things, and then I want you out of my house,” His mother said firmly, not really looking at Oliver. She actually looked hurt.
Oliver blanched, thinking he misheard her. “What? You can’t be serious! Where am I supposed to go?”
“I don’t know Oliver, but I suggest you start moving instead of asking me questions. The clock is ticking.” His mother responded coldly, regaining some of her usual composure.
Oliver thought he would start to cry, to beg, but instead all he felt was an odd numbness. “Fine, if that’s what you want.” He replied, equally as cold, before heading up to his room.
An hour later, Oliver Wood had most of his belongings packed in his trunk, and left his mother sitting alone at the kitchen table, while he stepped back out into the night.
Now…
“That’s quite the thing for a thirteen year old to go through.” His therapist commented, their eyebrows raised in surprise.
Oliver sighed, “Honestly? I still don’t know how to feel about it. Being away from her for the rest of summer was so freeing. But, there was a sick part of me that wanted to impress her, even after she kicked me out.”
“Why don’t we discuss that more, if you’re ready of course.”
Oliver leaned back on the couch. His knee was bouncing up and down, he was starting to get twitchy again. The symptoms were getting better, but they still there, especially after talking or thinking about…all of this. “Can we take a break?”
His therapist nodded, “Of course, let me know when you’re ready.”