Not A Winner Yet
Date: October 22 With memories of the previous week
Time: Sunset
Characters Involved: Oliver Wood, Winifred Wood, and NPCs Mr and Mrs Wood
Location: Oliver’s new cottage, Hogsmeade
Rating: PG
The only boxes that hadn’t been unpacked were the two that contained the things of Ingrid’s that Oliver wanted to save for Wini to have one day.
Oliver had been unable to go and see anyone that he might know after the game, slinking away to pick up Winifred from where his mother and father had been sitting with her. They hadn’t said a thing, knowing from years of experience that it was better to just leave Oliver alone after a loss. His mother had suggested that she keep Winifred but he had silenced her with a quick shake of his head.
Even at two years old, Wini had seen enough of her dad’s exultant moods after a win and dark disposition after a loss to know that this was a good time for her to color quietly. He’d be in a mood to wrestle and take her out for a walk when the morning came.
He had packed all that night, too angry at himself and the Seeker on his team to even pay attention to the things that had memories of Ingrid tied to them. All he cared about was getting everything into the boxes. He wanted to have the house clean of everything. Once Winifred was in her room (bare except for her little trundle bed and a pile of parchment and magical crayons) he even drew out his wand and tried doing cleansing spells. The beers he had been drinking didn’t make it work out well, and he made the house more of a mess. He’d been so upset that he started shoving all of the pictures and trophies on the mantle into a box without even caring what might break. A picture fell at his feet, the glass shattering. He lifted up the frame, his thumb running against a sharp bit of glass.
“Shit,” he said, moving his thumb quickly to keep from getting blood on the picture of Ingrid and Winifred. He moved his thumb to his mouth and sucked on it, sighing. He moved over to the couch and sank down on it, setting the picture next to himself and studying it. If Ingrid had been here, she would have been able to silence him with a kiss and an embrace. She had known how to calm him, how to remind him that there was always next year. He felt so alone. Oliver had closed his eyes, burring his face in his hands as he fought the urge to cry. He had a fake girlfriend, of course, but, what good did that do? He didn’t have any feelings for Ginny. Or for Parvati, who had admitted that she had felt something for him. He knew that Katie Bell had liked him, but, he had never looked at her and felt his pulse race. He had kissed Hermione Granger but that had been a stupid decision based off of the loneliness and the moon and… Why had he let himself kiss her?
What did it matter, anyways? Oliver opened his eyes and looked at the picture of Ingrid and Wini. Their daughter had only been five months old when the picture was taken. Captured in time, Wini was only giving Oliver a wide-eyed stare, her mouth opening and closing in attempts to smile. Ingrid was laughing at her, trying to get her to wave to the camera and winking towards where Oliver had been standing with the camera in his hand. He felt another bubble of sorrow float through his body and rest in his throat.
“Oh, Ing,” he said hoarsely. She winked again. “Ing…” The picture looked at him and it was as though she was there, as though they caught each other’s eyes. She smiled, and winked again.
After staring at her picture for about ten minutes Oliver had finally stood and went back to packing, finishing all of it by 4am when he went and slept on the floor next to Winifred’s bed.
His mother and father had helped them into the cottage. They were both glad to see the next generation of Woods living in Hogsmeade. Oliver’s dad had taken Wini to Honeydukes to get some fizzing whizbees while Rachella helped Oliver unpack the kitchen.
“Think you’ll ever marry again, Oliver?”
“What? No.”
“All this talk about you being an eligible Bachelor…”
“Is talk.”
“And Ginny Weasley? I know you said she’s just to keep the other women away, but, really, Oliver… Don’t close yourself out from having a second chance.”
“…You’ve never had to lose Dad, Mum. You don’t understand.”
“I’m just saying, Oliver. You’re only 24. Life isn’t over for you. And it’s not just Quidditch.”
“I’ve got Wini. We’re fine.”
As Oliver went outside of the cottage, Winifred ran towards him. “Da!” she was shrieking, running forward with mud stained trousers.
“What is it, Winifred?” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards a place she had been digging in the garden. He walked over and knelt down.
“Da! Whas’t?”
Oliver laughed. “That’s a frog. Or.. a toad?” He shook his head as his daughter looked up at him, confused. “A frog, Wini! Can you say that?”
“Fog.” She reached out a finger and poked it, jumping back when it leapt forward. “Da!” She gasped.
Oliver laughed and grabbed her into his arms. He didn’t care if she was muddy or had been busy grabbing onto toads or frogs or whatever inhabitants that would be joining them at the cottage. He kissed her forehead, so glad that she wasn’t rebelling against this hug.
“Love you, Winipoo.”
She giggled and squirmed to give him a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He started laughing and let her go. The sun was setting, and she had more places to explore in the garden.
Oliver walked back into the house to pull out some bread and meat for sandwiches. He’d have a beer for himself and pour some juice for Wini. He watched as she ran about the garden, proud of her for refusing to whine or cry when she fell down, simply getting back up.
This cottage was a new home. It had a good, clean feeling. He was glad. It was lacking the touch that Ingrid had brought to their Diagon Alley apartment, and yet Oliver knew that he didn’t need the walls that she had painted or the kitchen tile she had picked out. She had left her mark on his heart, and no matter what happened, where he went, or if his mother’s hopes came true, that would never change.
And there was always next year for the League Cup.
Time: Sunset
Characters Involved: Oliver Wood, Winifred Wood, and NPCs Mr and Mrs Wood
Location: Oliver’s new cottage, Hogsmeade
Rating: PG
The only boxes that hadn’t been unpacked were the two that contained the things of Ingrid’s that Oliver wanted to save for Wini to have one day.
Oliver had been unable to go and see anyone that he might know after the game, slinking away to pick up Winifred from where his mother and father had been sitting with her. They hadn’t said a thing, knowing from years of experience that it was better to just leave Oliver alone after a loss. His mother had suggested that she keep Winifred but he had silenced her with a quick shake of his head.
Even at two years old, Wini had seen enough of her dad’s exultant moods after a win and dark disposition after a loss to know that this was a good time for her to color quietly. He’d be in a mood to wrestle and take her out for a walk when the morning came.
He had packed all that night, too angry at himself and the Seeker on his team to even pay attention to the things that had memories of Ingrid tied to them. All he cared about was getting everything into the boxes. He wanted to have the house clean of everything. Once Winifred was in her room (bare except for her little trundle bed and a pile of parchment and magical crayons) he even drew out his wand and tried doing cleansing spells. The beers he had been drinking didn’t make it work out well, and he made the house more of a mess. He’d been so upset that he started shoving all of the pictures and trophies on the mantle into a box without even caring what might break. A picture fell at his feet, the glass shattering. He lifted up the frame, his thumb running against a sharp bit of glass.
“Shit,” he said, moving his thumb quickly to keep from getting blood on the picture of Ingrid and Winifred. He moved his thumb to his mouth and sucked on it, sighing. He moved over to the couch and sank down on it, setting the picture next to himself and studying it. If Ingrid had been here, she would have been able to silence him with a kiss and an embrace. She had known how to calm him, how to remind him that there was always next year. He felt so alone. Oliver had closed his eyes, burring his face in his hands as he fought the urge to cry. He had a fake girlfriend, of course, but, what good did that do? He didn’t have any feelings for Ginny. Or for Parvati, who had admitted that she had felt something for him. He knew that Katie Bell had liked him, but, he had never looked at her and felt his pulse race. He had kissed Hermione Granger but that had been a stupid decision based off of the loneliness and the moon and… Why had he let himself kiss her?
What did it matter, anyways? Oliver opened his eyes and looked at the picture of Ingrid and Wini. Their daughter had only been five months old when the picture was taken. Captured in time, Wini was only giving Oliver a wide-eyed stare, her mouth opening and closing in attempts to smile. Ingrid was laughing at her, trying to get her to wave to the camera and winking towards where Oliver had been standing with the camera in his hand. He felt another bubble of sorrow float through his body and rest in his throat.
“Oh, Ing,” he said hoarsely. She winked again. “Ing…” The picture looked at him and it was as though she was there, as though they caught each other’s eyes. She smiled, and winked again.
After staring at her picture for about ten minutes Oliver had finally stood and went back to packing, finishing all of it by 4am when he went and slept on the floor next to Winifred’s bed.
His mother and father had helped them into the cottage. They were both glad to see the next generation of Woods living in Hogsmeade. Oliver’s dad had taken Wini to Honeydukes to get some fizzing whizbees while Rachella helped Oliver unpack the kitchen.
“Think you’ll ever marry again, Oliver?”
“What? No.”
“All this talk about you being an eligible Bachelor…”
“Is talk.”
“And Ginny Weasley? I know you said she’s just to keep the other women away, but, really, Oliver… Don’t close yourself out from having a second chance.”
“…You’ve never had to lose Dad, Mum. You don’t understand.”
“I’m just saying, Oliver. You’re only 24. Life isn’t over for you. And it’s not just Quidditch.”
“I’ve got Wini. We’re fine.”
As Oliver went outside of the cottage, Winifred ran towards him. “Da!” she was shrieking, running forward with mud stained trousers.
“What is it, Winifred?” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards a place she had been digging in the garden. He walked over and knelt down.
“Da! Whas’t?”
Oliver laughed. “That’s a frog. Or.. a toad?” He shook his head as his daughter looked up at him, confused. “A frog, Wini! Can you say that?”
“Fog.” She reached out a finger and poked it, jumping back when it leapt forward. “Da!” She gasped.
Oliver laughed and grabbed her into his arms. He didn’t care if she was muddy or had been busy grabbing onto toads or frogs or whatever inhabitants that would be joining them at the cottage. He kissed her forehead, so glad that she wasn’t rebelling against this hug.
“Love you, Winipoo.”
She giggled and squirmed to give him a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He started laughing and let her go. The sun was setting, and she had more places to explore in the garden.
Oliver walked back into the house to pull out some bread and meat for sandwiches. He’d have a beer for himself and pour some juice for Wini. He watched as she ran about the garden, proud of her for refusing to whine or cry when she fell down, simply getting back up.
This cottage was a new home. It had a good, clean feeling. He was glad. It was lacking the touch that Ingrid had brought to their Diagon Alley apartment, and yet Oliver knew that he didn’t need the walls that she had painted or the kitchen tile she had picked out. She had left her mark on his heart, and no matter what happened, where he went, or if his mother’s hopes came true, that would never change.
And there was always next year for the League Cup.