The Inadequate Life

Harry stepped out of the conference room first. He, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had spent the last two hours showing Oliver their plans, and talking with him about how best to use Angelina, Alicia and Katie in the air. They’d been so absorbed, they hadn’t realized how much time had passed until Ron’s stomach had started growling, and they checked the clock and saw that it was dinner time.

Hermione had been very enthusiastic about the idea of having fliers during the battle, but had been shocked when Harry brought up the idea of writing to Krum. She had taken Ron to the other conference room for a private conversation; Harry didn’t know what had been said, and wasn’t inclined to ask, but when they returned about ten minutes later, Ron looked extremely pleased—even a bit smug—and Hermione seemed satisfied, and agreed to draft a letter to Krum that evening.

Harry had been right about one thing—Oliver Wood was extremely talented when it came to deployment of forces. “It’s really just like Quidditch,” Oliver said with a modest shrug when Harry mentioned it. “You just have to know the mobility and range of each of your people, and then you can arrange them to cover the territory most efficiently.”

As Harry waited for the others to join him in the hall before heading down to dinner, it dawned on him that the anxiousness which had hovered over him since speaking with Hagrid had faded almost to nothing. Oliver’s idea of fighting on broomsticks, which seemed so obvious in retrospect, was truly inspired. Harry really felt like they had something remarkable that the Death Eaters couldn’t possibly anticipate, that would give the D.A. a much-needed advantage.

“Harry! Harry!” Harry turned in surprise as Fred and George came running up the stairs from the kitchen, panting with exertion, but with shining eyes and ecstatic grins. “Harry, we’ve done it!”

“Good,” Harry said as Ginny came out of the conference room to see what was going on, followed by the others. “Er—did what?”

The communicator!” George exclaimed. “We did it, we made it work!”

Harry looked down at Fred and George’s hands; they each seemed to be carrying pieces of junk, but when he looked closer Harry realized that the junk was actually the disassembled parts of the Mermish Water Stunner that he’d given them to experiment with. The hope was that they would be able to make the thing work like a muggle walkie-talkie, so the D.A. would be able to communicate across Diagon Alley during the battle.

And apparently, they’d succeeded. “Really?” Harry said, growing excited himself. “How well does it work? Does it get any kind of range? How did—”

“Harry,” Ginny interrupted calmly, “How about we have Dobby bring up some dinner so we can continue this and not have Ron starve to death?”

“Er, right—good idea,” Harry said as Ron glared at Ginny. “Fred, George, come in the conference room. Dobby!”

There was a crack and Dobby the house-elf appeared. Oliver jumped back in surprise. “Yes, Harry Potter?”

“Could you bring up dinner for—er, six people?” Harry asked.

“Of course!” the elf squeaked happily. He glanced at Oliver and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Dobby, this is Oliver Wood,” Harry said quickly. “He’s a good friend of ours, and he’s agreed to help us fight Voldemort.”

Dobby’s demeanor changed instantly. “Welcome, Mister Oliver Wood!” he squeaked. “If you is needing anything, just call my name or my friend Winky’s name, and we will come help!”

“Er—thanks,” Oliver said. Dobby smiled and disappeared with another crack.

“Oliver, are you heading down for dinner?” Harry asked. “There’ll be a big crowd, and I bet they’d all like to see you. Plus, Dobby and Winky make great food—they both used to work at Hogwarts, actually.”

“That sounds good,” Oliver said. “But I’d like to dump my cloak in that room you promised me, and maybe wash up?”

“Oh—right,” Harry said. “Well, all the spare rooms are on the fourth floor. Um… Ginny, would you show him up there?”

“No, that’s okay,” Oliver insisted. “Two floors up, right? And any of the rooms is okay?”

“Any except the furthest one down on the right,” Harry said with a nod. He reminded himself that he’d have to tell Oliver about Draco Malfoy’s presence soon.

“Well then, I’ll pick a room all right by myself,” Oliver said. “Go on, all of you—do your leader stuff. I’ll find my way.”

“Right… thanks, Oliver,” Harry said gratefully as the others went back into the conference room. A crack indicated that Dobby had arrived, and there was a series of clangs as platters of food were arranged. “I’m glad to have you with us,” Harry said. “And if you come up with any more brilliant ideas, let us know!”

“I will,” Oliver said, looking a bit nonplussed. Harry supposed that Oliver was a bit shocked to see Harry in his “leader” role—several other D.A. members had confessed they found it startling for a while when they first arrived.

Harry shut the door so that the door sealed, locking them in. He watched through the one-way door as Oliver gaped at the disappearance for a moment; then Oliver collected himself, and walked down the hall—the wrong way. He only got about six or seven steps before stopping, cursing mildly, and turning and heading back past the conference room in the right direction.

Chuckling, Harry turned to the room, where there was food everywhere. Almost literally—Harrys head almost bumped into a whole roast duck that was floating near his head. “What the—”

“Sorry, Harry,” Hermione said. “But Dobby brought far too much food—as usual—and so I had to get a little creative with where to put everything. Besides, Fred and George need part of the table clear so they can show us what they’ve done.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said with a shrug, and maneuvered around the floating platters of food until he could sit down. he accepted a clean plate from Ginny with a smile and started piling food onto it. “So, tell us,” he said to Fred and George. “Every detail.”

“The biggest problem we’d had was figuring the thing out,” Fred said. “Even in pieces it still worked, kind of, but we’d been having trouble figuring out which piece did what.”

“So after we came back here with Oliver,” George continued, “I was fiddling with the thing in the back room of the ship, and I picked up two pieces, one in each hand.” He demonstrated, selecting two items from the table. “I tried yelling into this one,” he said, holding out one piece that looked a bit like a beer tankard with no handle.

George yelled wordlessly into it, but nothing happened. “So?” Ron mumbled around a mouthful of food.

“Exactly!” George exclaimed happily. “Nothing happened!”

George beamed at them. Harry swallowed his bite of food. “But then,” he said patiently, “something else did happen.”

“Right you are, Harry,” George agreed. “See, I got frustrated, so I went to put down this piece,” he said, laying down the second piece, which looked like a blossoming flower sculpted out of wood. “And as it got close to this piece,” he continued, tapping the flower to a nondescript bit of stone, “I accidentally coughed, and…” He pointed the flower toward the ceiling, and coughed into the tankard, and the cough, greatly magnified, came out of the flower so loudly that flecks of paint shook from the ceiling.

Ginny, thinking quickly, whipped out her wand and cast a charm that kept the paint and dust off of the food, washing it all to the side and into a corner of the floor; then a quick Scourgify got rid of it all. Sitting back up, she pointed her wand menacingly at George—who shrank back—and growled “Don’t. Do that. Again.”

“I yield,” George said nervously, putting up his hands in supplication. “Anyway, that’s more or less exactly what happened. I realized that it worked when it was touching that little bit of stone, so I tried it again with a whisper and it still worked.”

“Then I came along,” Fred continued, “wondering what in the name of Voldemort’s thong knickers was shaking down our store. And when George told me what happened, I wondered whether it would work if the flower-thing was just near the stone…”

Fred held the flower about three centimeters above the stone, and before anyone could stop him, George spoke mildly into the tankard: “Hello Fred, you’re seeming fit and fair today.”

George’s voice echoed out of the flower, sounding exactly like him, only slightly louder than his real voice had been. “It gets better,” George said, grinning at everyone’s stunned faces. “Fred, if you would?” Nodding, Fred raised the flower until it was about twice as far from the stone. George lifted the tankard; “Harry is doing his best impression of a stranded fish.”

Harry’s jaw snapped shut as George’s voice was again repeated—but much softer than before, even though he’d spoken at the same level. “So… the closer the flower-piece is to that stone, the louder the voice is repeated?” Hermione summed up, peering curiously at the pieces.

“You’ve nailed it,” George agreed happily as he and Fred set the pieces down. “The stone and the flower were touching when the whole thing was together—that’s how the merpeople used it to stun fish. But it’s pretty obvious that we can adapt it to do what you wanted, Harry.”

“Almost,” Harry said, frowning at the flower. “It can only send one way. If we wanted two people to be able to communicate, we’d have to have two of these… just to make one walkie-talkie!”

“Er—yeah, I suppose so,” Fred confirmed, pretending to understand what a walkie-talkie was. “And I guess that these are hard to come by, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Harry grumbled. Then he shook his head. “That doesn’t matter yet. What’s important is that you figured it out—nice work, you two. Do you think you can develop a way to make the pieces smaller and still work?”

“Maybe,” Fred said cautiously. “That was the next step.”

“Good. Keep at it. And see if you can figure out exactly how far apart these pieces need to be so that the voice comes out at the same volume that was spoken, and then find a way to fix them together exactly that far apart.”

“And,” Hermione added, “test how far apart the two halves can be and still work. That could be very important.”

“Right,” George said, writing down their new goals. “Okay. Are we done?”

“Er—yeah, I guess so,” Harry said, surprised. “Are you going to get started right away?”

“Er… no,” George said, standing up and avoiding their eyes. “I’ve just, um, got some things to do.”

“Like Luna,” Fred said, and smiled innocently when George scowled. “Oh go on, shag your girlfriend. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Once Fred and George had collected the pieces of the Water Stunner and headed out, the others decided to just stay and finish dinner where they were, since it was all right in front of them. “I know that we’ve only got one walkie-talkie, and that it only works one way,” Hermione said, “but it could still be very beneficial if we use it right.”

“That’s true, but it would be so much better if we could even have one two-way walkie-talkie,” Harry said. “It’s going to be tough to find any more Water Stunners, though.”

“Harry, do you think that you could get some from the merpeople in the Black Lake?” Ginny asked. “I mean, it’s on Hogwarts grounds but it’s not in Hogwarts. And you have been there before…”

“Well, sure,” Harry said sarcastically. “After I invaded their home and threatened to hex them if they didn’t get out of my way? I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see me.”

“They were allies of Dumbledore’s,” Hermione pointed out. “And from what I remember you saying, they were smiling once you reached the surface. They knew it was all part of the Second Task—I seriously doubt that they held it against you.”

Harry put his head in his hands for a moment. “Okay, fine,” he muttered finally. “I’ll see if I can buy some more Water Stunners, but if I can’t, I’ll consider trying to get to the Black Lake. But I’m not eating Gillyweed again.”

*****

Oliver passed a few more D.A. members on his way upstairs. Evidently Harry had told them that Oliver might be coming because none of them seemed surprised to see him wandering the halls. He ran into Cho Chang, who he’d played Quidditch against once at Hogwarts; she seemed very shy, but welcomed him. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were direct opposites of Cho, shouting their greetings and pounding Oliver on the back while peppering him with questions about what it was like to be a professional Quidditch player. Oliver laughed and promised to answer questions at dinner, once he’d found his room.

He thought that the layout of the House of Black was really weird. Why were the stairs up on the opposite end of any given floor from the stairs down? Shouldn’t they all be on one side? He supposed it had something to do with a defensive mindset—like, anyone breaking in had to run the gauntlet of rooms on each floor before they could move up to the next. Smart, but kind of annoying.

Oliver finally convinced Dean and Seamus to go down to dinner and give him a second to settle in. He breathed a sigh of relief once they went down the stairs—living in a house full of fanatic Quidditch fans was going to be interesting, to say the least.

“Hey, Ollie!”

Oliver turned and smiled at Alicia, who’d come out of one of the rooms. “Hey, Alicia. Are you heading down for dinner too?”

“Yup,” Alicia confirmed, walking over to him. “C’mon, I’ll walk you down.”

“I haven’t even gotten to my room to dump my cloak,” Oliver said. “I think there’s a conspiracy to keep me from getting to the fourth floor—everyone keeps stopping me!”

“Oh yeah? Well come on, then,” Alicia said, tugging at Oliver’s arm. “I’ll walk you up to make sure you get there.”

“Uh…” Oliver looked back over his shoulder. “Aren’t the stairs up over there?”

Alicia laughed. “No, they’re on this end. Don’t worry, everyone thought this house was laid out all wrong when they first got here. You get used to it eventually.”

It turned out that Alicia was right, so Oliver shrugged and followed her up. Not that he minded—it gave him the chance to eye Alicia’s arse, which was even more sexy than he remembered. Of course, it would look even better if she was straddling a broomstick, he thought wistfully.

The thing that Oliver had loved the most about being Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team at Hogwarts was not, contrary to popular belief, the chance to let his zealous love of strategizing out—no, it was the view he was afforded. Nothing turned Oliver on like the sight of an attractive woman bent low over a broomstick, flying at breakneck speed across the pitch. He’d been lucky enough to have Alicia, Angelina and Katie on his team his final three years, and only his love of the game and his burning desire to win the cup had prevented him from being totally distracted.

Of course, Katie had only been fourteen by the time Oliver had ended his seventh year, and his sense of decency placed her firmly in the look-but-don’t-touch category—anything else would have been wrong. Angelina had turned sixteen that October, but clearly had her eye on Fred Weasley, and Oliver was too smart to risk the pranking wrath of the Weasley twins.

But Alicia was only three months younger than Angelina, and had turned sixteen by the time Oliver’s final year at Hogwarts was half through. Moreover, she’d developed from the spindly twelve-year-old he’d discovered and placed on the reserve team into a shapely, gorgeous girl. She’d been a bit shocked the first time he kissed her, but it had taken all of two seconds before she gave as good as she’d got. Sadly, Alicia had still been a bit reserved, so they’d never progressed far enough for Oliver to find out whether her thighs could grip him as tightly as they did her broom; but their few bouts of exploration had been very satisfying, although Oliver felt like he’d been teased for the entire half-year. Then he’d graduated, and they’d never really been together, so they’d parted as friends, and kept in touch as friends…

Now here she was, and Oliver almost didn’t recognize her. Oh, she was definitely the same person—the same sharp intelligence and wry sense of humor that he’d grown to appreciate, laughing out loud every time he read one of her letters. But where before there’d been an attractive sixteen-year-old girl, now there was a striking, sexy woman. Four years had transformed Alicia completely. With the eye of an assessor, Oliver determined that Alicia had the ideal body for a Chaser—slim but not skinny, muscular but not too muscular, and tough enough to take a Bludger full-on and keep going. She’d gains a couple of inches, but not so much as to be a detriment—in fact, her long arms and fingers would be beneficial in handling the Quaffle. Her thighs looked like they were carved out of rock—in other words, it would be practically impossible to unseat her. Oliver wondered how Alicia could have been passed over for the National team—not that Angelina didn’t deserve to be on team, but Alicia couldn’t have been more physically perfect for a Chaser if she’d been built from the bone out.

That, coupled with her intriguing personality and her stunning eyes (which were exactly the same silver-grey they’d been four years earlier) made Alicia about as perfect a woman as Oliver had ever seen.

But Alicia had teased him in her letters about being a big-shot Quidditch star, and how the girls must be lined up around the block, and she hadn’t been too far off the mark. Oliver had his share of followers, and there were enough girls wanting into his bed that he could have shagged a different one every night if he’d wanted. When he’d first started being propositioned, Oliver had taken advantage of the situation for a month or two before really realizing that he was shagging a bunch of girls who wanted stories to tell their friends, and that just didn’t appeal to him. That he’d done it for a while was something that he wasn’t proud of, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if Alicia would be a bit sickened when she found out.

And of course, Oliver had no idea whether Alicia was involved with anyone; she’d teased him about his supposed proclivities, but they’d never actually shared stories, either way. And Oliver wasn’t the sort to make a move on someone who was already committed.

So he contented himself with watching her arse and thighs appreciatively until they got to the top of the stairs. “So,” Alicia said, “You can probably take any room on the floor. I don’t think there’s anyone else living up here—well, except for Malfoy, but he doesn’t count.”

“Malfoy?” Oliver repeated, the name startling him out of his musing. “Draco Malfoy? He’s here?”

Alicia blinked. “Yeah… I guess Harry didn’t mention that yet?” Oliver shook his head mutely. “Well, we kidnapped Malfoy from a Death Eater stronghold several weeks ago. He’s been locked up in a room on this floor since then; I guess Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny have been getting information out of him. Oh, and Harry taught him to cast a Patronus.”

Oliver was about to express—very loudly—his opinion of allowing Draco Malfoy to live in the same house, but something Alicia said stopped him. “A Patronus? You mean that Charm to chase off Dementors? Harry can cast one of those?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alicia said dismissively. “He taught a bunch of us how to do it during Seventh year, when the D.A. started.”

“A bunch of you? You mean, you can do it too?”

Grinning, Alicia pulled out her wand, pointed it down the hall, and chanted “Expecto Patronum!”

A large bird made of light erupted from the tip of Alicia’s wand, flew the length of the hall, turned, and came back. Oliver backed away slightly as the bird alighted on Alicia’s outstretched arm; she raised her other hand and stroked the glowing feathers, cooing gently at it. “Wow,” was all Oliver could think to say.

“She’s a gyrfalcon,” Alicia told him, smiling fondly at the bird. “She’s not as powerful as Harry’s stag or Neville’s lion, but she’s tough and fast.”

Oliver grinned. “Kind of like you, then.”

Chuckling, Alicia lowered her wand, and the bird faded away. “Harry’ll have to teach you how to do that, too,” she said as she put her wand away. “Odds are pretty good that we’ll come up against Dementors. The trick is using a happy thought.”

“A what?”

“You have to be thinking a happy thought when you cast a Patronus,” Alicia explained. “Otherwise it doesn’t work. The happier the thought, the easier it is.”

“Oh.” Oliver smirked and asked shrewdly “So what was your happy thought just now?”

Alicia flushed slightly. “Er… actually, I was thinking about the time in the storage cabinet in that unused classroom—remember?”

Oliver definitely remembered. They’d been heading back from Quidditch practice late at night, and had taken a wrong turn—probably because Oliver had been distracted by Alicia’s hand teasing his arse. They’d heard Filch coming, and had ducked into a classroom that hadn’t been occupied in years—and then, when Filch had gotten closer, they’d crammed into a storage cabinet at the back of the room.

Alicia had guided Oliver’s hand inside her knickers for the first time, all while they’d been hiding in the cabinet. Her own hand had stroked his cock—awkwardly, there wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver—until he’d felt her body shudder against his, and her hand squeezed him tightly enough to make him groan loudly and come.

Oliver had made too much noise, and they’d had just enough time to cast cleaning charms and straighten their clothing before Filch had flung the cabinet doors open. Since he hadn’t actually caught them in flagrante, Filch could only punish them for being out of bounds; they’d both gotten a single detention, but it had been completely worth it.

“So that’s what’s on your mind, is it?” Oliver said, waggling his eyebrows. “That comment at the pub about how good I look?”

“I was thinking about that,” Alicia said pointedly, “because this is the first time I’ve seen you in four years, and it’s brought back memories, okay? That was—” She went a bit redder. “That was the first time in my life that I had an orgasm with someone else there. So it kind of sticks out in my mind, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Oliver agreed. “That was a great night, and I thank Merlin and Morgana and everyone that Filch could only shuffle so fast, so we got the chance to finish!” Alicia laughed, and Oliver loved the sound of it. “Alicia, are you seeing anyone?”

Alicia was clearly started by the question. “No,” she replied after a second. “Are you asking me out, then?”

“I was planning on a bit more than that,” Oliver said, “unless you object, of course.” And he bent down and kissed her.

It was almost exactly like the first time they’d kissed, except for one major difference; the previous time they’d been two awkward, inexperienced teenagers, and now they were two young adults. The kiss was much more satisfying, especially once Alicia kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck and caressing her tongue over his lips. Oliver parted his mouth and deepened the kiss, pulling Alicia’s body against his; the muscles he’d observed felt even better when pressed against him. He hardened immediately, and when Alicia lifted her leg to pull him even closer, he groaned into her mouth as his cock nudged at her flat stomach.

When Oliver finally pulled back for air, he looked down at Alicia. Somehow he’d ended up pushing her up against the wall; her hair was tossed and messy, and she was looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, and grinned when she blushed again. “Alicia, if you want to take it slow—”

“No,” Alicia interrupted. “Slowing down is not what I’m looking for right now. Do whatever you want, Oliver—I want to finish what we only got the chance to play at before. Just—when we get there, go easy, all right? Remember that I’ve never done it before.”

“Never—you mean ever since we—?”

“Don’t go making it a mushy romantic thing,” Alicia chided, running her hand over Oliver’s chest. “It’s not like I was waiting for my big unrequited love to come to his senses or anything. I just—never found someone I wanted to do it with. So I suppose you’ll have to do,” she added teasingly.

“I’m flattered,” Oliver said sarcastically, although really he was. Whether she knew it or not, if Alicia was on a pro Quidditch team she could pick and choose men the way Oliver could with his female fans, and not just because of her fame. The idea of being this incredible woman’s first…

“Right then,” Oliver said, “let’s do this properly.” He reached out and turned the handle for the door right next to Alicia; it swung open, and a quick glance into the darkness told Oliver that there was definitely a bed inside.

That was all he needed to know, so Oliver bent down and swept Alicia off her feet, literally. “Hey!” she said in surprise, and then laughed as Oliver carried her into the room. “Don’t you want to check out what the other rooms are like?”

The candles lit themselves as soon as Oliver and Alicia entered the room, but dimly, creating a soft but sufficient lighting. “This one will do,” Oliver said, and kicked the door closed. He carried Alicia over to the bed and sat down so she settled on his lap. Then he kissed her again, more insistently than before. She responded eagerly, helping him push his robes off of his shoulders. Grasping her by the waist, Oliver flipped Alicia so she was lying on her back, and he was propped up on his elbow next to her.

Alicia pulled Oliver’s sweater up and tugged his t-shirt out of his jeans. She ran her fingers over his stomach, and Oliver twitched. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Oliver said embarrassedly. “I’m, uh… a little ticklish there.”

“Oh really?” Alicia said, but before she could test it further Oliver grabbed her hand and moved it up to his cheek. “Spoilsport,” she said fondly, and circled her hand behind his head so she could pull him down for another kiss.

Oliver knew that Alicia was hardly innocent, but the knowledge that she was still a virgin made him go slowly. He ran his hand over her body above her clothes, admiring the flare of her hip, the tautness of her stomach, the small, firm rise of her breast. When her hand came off his head and took his own hand, encouraging him to be more aggressive, he cupped her breast and rolled the nipple lightly with his thumb, making her squirm beneath him.

They broke apart long enough to pull their shirts off, and Oliver’s heartbeat accelerated at the sight of Alicia on her knees, clad in nothing but jeans and a slim bra. Her muscles were accentuated under her smooth, golden skin by the soft lighting. “Just like I remember,” Oliver said, “except better.”

Alicia blushed, and then gasped as Oliver started kissing her neck, nipping lightly while shifting the strap of her bra off her shoulder. She shuddered when his tongue dipped into the depression above her clavicle, so he focused on the spot while removing her bra.

Alicia pulled Oliver up so their mouths could come together again; then she fell back, taking him with her. She sighed at the feel of his strong chest crushed against her erect nipples, and spread her legs so he could nestle between them, his hardness rubbing insistently against her center. Oliver rocked slightly, and Alicia responded by tilting her legs up to give him a better angle at which to thrust against her.

Oliver loved the feel of Alicia’s body under him, but he wanted it to be while his cock was buried inside her. He shifted enough so that he could undo her jeans with one hand. Then he broke their kiss and began kissing his way down her body; he touched at that spot on her neck again, making her sigh, and when he reached her breast and captured her small nipple lightly in his teeth she whined, arching her back to ask for more. He licked and suckled her breast, then switched to the other, all the while slowly working Alicia’s jeans over her hips to her ankles, and finally removing them entirely.

Oliver continued his path down, kissing a trail from her breast down over her stomach, until he came to the edge of her knickers. He brushed his large hands softly along the insides of her thighs, gently encouraging her to open them, and kissed her knickers right over her cunt.

Alicia almost sat completely upright. “Merlin!” she gasped, and stared in surprise at Oliver. She was something to look at: practically nude, leaning back on her hands with her legs wantonly spread apart.

“Too fast?” Oliver asked, allowing one hand to slide closer to her knickers and toy with the edge.

Alicia shook her head. “N-no,” she stammered, her eyes darting to Oliver’s hand. “Just wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Oliver offered. He leaned back down and ran his tongue across her thigh, right to the edge of her knickers and over, until he licked her clit through the cloth.

Alicia collapsed back onto the bed with a moan. Now with tacit permission, Oliver shifted so he could devote his full attention to Alicia’s apex. He continued to torment her through the material of her knickers, first concentrating on the soft, sensitive skin around the edges, then gradually working his way in until he was brushing his fingers lightly over her cunt. When her knickers grew damp from her arousal he increased the pressure, circling her clit with his mouth and flicking his tongue with increasing speed.

“O-Oliver,” Alicia groaned, which Oliver decided to interpret as a signal for more. Deciding she’d been denied the touch of flesh long enough, Oliver pulled her knickers aside, and drank in the sight of her cunt, hot and open, waiting for him.

But he had to do things right. Alicia deserved that, and not just because it was her first time. So Oliver once more leaned in, and ran his tongue slowly all the way along her cunt until it flicked off of her clit. Alicia whimpered and tried to press her sex into Oliver’s touch, but he held her down and worked her into even more of a state. Wetting a finger in his mouth, Oliver slid it easily into Alicia’s cunt, marveling at how tight she felt. His finger encountered the proof that Alicia hadn’t been lying—she was still a virgin.

Alicia was very strong—Oliver had to use all the strength of his free arm to hold her still while he worked his finger inside her. Her gasps and moans and pleading egged him on, so he added a second finger, and then a third; Alicia took them easily, although the tightness squeezing them made Oliver’s cock twitch with desire to be squeezed just the same. When Alicia seemed ready to explode, or kill him for torturing her so long, Oliver leaned down one final time and sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue rapidly and driving her to the edge and over. Alicia’s legs might have crushed him if he hadn’t held them firmly apart, and her gasps and moans turned into one long scream; her whole body went rigid before crashing down, whimpering continuously with deep satisfaction.

Oliver couldn’t wait, and really, there probably wasn’t a better time. Snatching up his wand, he quickly performed the Anti-Pregnancy charm, and shifted between Alicia’s legs. His cock pressed against Alicia’s open sex, the head parted her lips, and with one thrust he buried himself inside her.

Alicia shrieked, but cut herself off abruptly. Staring at Oliver, she bit her lip, but didn’t protest. “All right, Ali?” Oliver asked gently, not moving inside her, even though he wanted nothing more than to pound away. When she didn’t answer immediately, he leaned down and kissed her softly. “Okay?” he asked again.

Still biting her lip, Alicia nodded, and wrapped her legs around him. Squeezing tight, she pulled Oliver closer so he penetrated her cunt as deep as he could, and Oliver had to bite his own lip to keep from groaning with pleasure. She put her hands on his shoulders and murmured “Okay, Ollie. It wasn’t too bad—good job. Still—still hurts, though… go slow until I’m used to it.”

Oliver obliged, pulling his cock out slowly and then pressing back in. Alicia shifted again, drawing her legs as high as she could to give Oliver the best possible angle. As he moved inside her, the crease in her brow slowly vanished, and she stopped biting her lip. When her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted silently, Oliver knew she’d transitioned from pain to pleasure. He pulled almost all the way out, and then thrust back in with more force than before; Katie gasped, and her grip on Oliver’s shoulders tightened. “Yes,” she whispered, so Oliver did it again, and again; her hands tugged at him and her heels dug into his back, until he was pounding into her as he’d longed to. Alicia shuddered beneath him as she came for the second time, then a third; she fisted his hair and begged him for more, and when he gave her every bit of strength he had she crested again…

Then Oliver came, his orgasm boiling up from his spine through his cock and into Alicia; he pressed as deep as he could into her welcoming depths and moaned out his release.

Oliver collapsed on top of Alicia, and they lay there panting for several minutes before either of them could even budge. Finally Oliver pushed himself up. At least, he tried to—Alicia’s arms were around him, and wouldn’t let him move. “Alicia?” he mumbled, noticing that his voice was slurred.

“Mmmm,” Alicia replied, and the vibrations of her voice felt good against Oliver’s chest. “Damn, Oliver… That was bloody brilliant. I thought—I mean, every girl friend I have told me that their first time was a disappointment.”

“I take it yours wasn’t, then?”

Alicia chuckled. “Fishing for compliments, are you? Yes, Oliver, that was wonderful. I guess my girl friends were with boys who had no idea how to handle a girl’s first time.”

“Well, neither did I,” Oliver admitted. “I’ve never deflowered a girl before…”

Alicia let go of Oliver and pushed him up so she could look him in the eyes. “Are you serious?” she asked with clear disbelief. “Never?”

Oliver shook his head. “I, uh… I wasn’t a virgin, but that was my first time doing it with one.”

“Hell, Oliver—have you considered offering yourself as a male prostitute?” Alicia asked. “You’d make a fortune!”

Oliver pulled his softening cock slowly out of Alicia, making her whine. He retrieved his wand and cast a couple of cleaning charms on both of them before responding. “I’m making plenty as a Quidditch player, thanks,” he said wryly. “Besides, I’m just not the sort to go about shagging a dozen girls a week.”

“Aha! I knew it!” Alicia said, pointing a finger at Oliver and grinning with satisfaction. “Even with all the cute Quidditch fans following you everywhere, you’re not the playboy that Quidditch Weekly makes you out to be!”

“No, nothing like that,” Oliver said with a grimace. “But, er…”

Alicia peered at him. “What?”

“Well… my first few months after I was made starting Keeper… I kind of did live up to that rep,” Oliver admitted ruefully. “I gave it up after I realized that none of those girls were—um…”

“Were what?” Alicia demanded.

It occurred to Oliver that, as far as when to bring up his past went, any time but right after sex would have been better. “Uh… they weren’t you?” he offered.

Alicia glared at him for a moment before she cracked, and laughed. “Very smooth, Oliver,” she chortled.

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, it’s kind of true… I mean, those girls were only after my fame. At least with you I know that you’re after me. Or at least my body.”

“Well… at least your body,” Alicia agreed naughtily.

Oliver chuckled, but he sobered quickly. “Look, Ali—I want to do this properly, okay?”

“I think you did it pretty proper.”

“I’m serious, Alicia.”

“How’s that?” Alicia asked. “Do you mean—”

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me on a date? After we’ve already shagged? Isn’t that backwards?”

“Hey, I offered to take it slower,” Oliver pointed out.

Alicia gaped at him. “Oh,” she muttered. “Um, I thought you meant the sex.”

“No, I meant the whole deal,” Oliver insisted. “Look, I got to see first-hand what superficial sex and nothing else is like, and to be honest, it stinks. I like you, Ali, and I’d like to see what else can happen here.”

Alicia ducked her head. “I like the sound of that, Ollie,” she said. “I’m just kind of surprised, that’s all. I like being your friend, even if you are always off Merlin knows where for two thirds of the year.”

“I don’t see why that has to end,” Oliver said, sitting back on the bed and pulling her still-naked body against his. “Just because we’ve shagged doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends. We were still friends in Hogwarts even when we were fooling around, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Alicia agreed. “So… friends that shag, and are maybe more?” Oliver nodded. “Damn, that sounds good!”

”I thought so,” Oliver said.

“Of course you do—it means you get to shag this,” Alicia retorted, gesturing over her slim, sweat-slickened body.

“And what’s this?” Oliver asked indignantly, indicating his own heavily muscled and sculpted frame.

“It’s exactly what mine is—a Quidditch-toned body, and yes, I’m very lucky to get to shag it,” Alicia conceded. “Very lucky. In fact, I feel like being lucky again.”

“Wh—right now?” Oliver exclaimed. He wasn’t sure he had it in him… although with Alicia as motivation… actually, he almost definitely could…

“No, not right now,” Alicia laughed. “You just about killed me, I’ll have you know. I don’t think I’ve ever come four times in a row.”

“Oh,” Oliver said, slightly disappointed, although rather proud. “Well then—you’re welcome.”

Alicia rolled her eyes. “So I think we should go down and have dinner, accept the abuse that’s sure to be heaped on us by the others, and then come back up here so we can try some of the other things that we didn’t get to do while we were at Hogwarts.”

Oliver wondered what she had in mind. Then he decided it didn’t matter—he was pretty sure he’d be happy to go along with whatever it was. “I think that sounds like a good idea. Except for the abuse part, I mean. Unless you’re into that kind of thing, in which case we can talk about it.”

Alicia looked up into his eyes, and then dropped her gaze, blushing madly. “Yes, please,” she murmured.

Oliver’s heart skipped, and his cock twitched. “Come on,” he said, tugging Alicia to her feet and hunting for their clothes. “But be prepared to eat fast.”

Alicia smirked and hastened to comply.