Who: Oliver, Lisa and an unexpected guest
When: Feb. 3
Where: Abingdon, Oxfordshire Co.
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A better forgotten part of Lisa's past comes back to haunt her
Seven years had gone by since he last had seen Lisa, and thirteen since he first laid eyes on her. She had always been beautiful, even in her school robes. Her
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After a long moment of silence, Vladimir's smile faded a bit and he turned to Lisa, giving her an expectant look. Her eyes were wide. She felt Francie move and sit literally right on her feet, and though it comforted her a little, it didn't make her look more at ease.
"Vell?" he asked impatiently after another long moment of silence. "Are you to be introducing me, Leesey?"
After a few more moments, she spoke softly and carefully, as if she wasn't sure that her voice would work. "Oliver. This is Vladimir Berbatov."
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"Och, aye," Oliver murmured, his mouth barely moving, thin lips drawn even thinner as his mouth set firmly with his jaw. "I gathered as much by the accent and the clear appearance of bastard written so clearly across his forehead." For a moment, Oliver was sure Vladimir was going to reach up and touch his forehead, as if he really thought it had written itself there.
"I'm Oliver Wood, and I'm certainly no pleased tae make yer acquaintance. Kindly unhand my girlfriend, now." Oliver's voice was tight and laced with heavily contained anger and threat.
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"Leesey," he finally said, looking back to her. "I know you have hard times vhen I leave you, but you are very too good for this man, you know." He looked back over at Oliver, eyeing him smugly.
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In a fist fight, Oliver had some confidence that he could take the Bulgarian, but Oliver knew, more than anything else, that he had to see Lisa out harm's way, and that could only happen if Vladimir let her go. So, Oliver took a step forward, menacingly, egging Vladimir into a fight. Oliver's chest swelled and tightened unconsciously, clearly showing he meant to be the alpha male in this scenario. He glared down his nose at the man.
"She's done well enough, at least, tae find a man tha' doesna get off on beating her," Oliver said, a smirk on his face, hoping to tempt Vladimir to step forward in response and let Lisa go. "And speaks proper English, tae boot."
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"She deserve every pain I give her," he began. "Vomans have no place telling Vladimir Berbatov vhat to be doing. Beside, she vas stupid slut, and she stain rug with blood." Lisa opened her mouth to speak, and his gaze snapped over to her, interrupting her. "I see you get Claudia ring," he sneered. "Did you buy yourself?"
"You're a fucking bas-"
"Shut the fuck up," he yelled. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at her, grinning wickedly when he saw she had nothing to point back at him. "Leave in bedroom? Vhy don't ve be picking it up for you, like old time?" He was obviously referencing the last night they were together, where she ran into the bedroom for her wand, and he came after her with more on his mind than hitting her again.
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"I suggest, Berbatov, that you get the hell outtae our house."
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"Fortunately, I know Lisa does not in fact share your opinion of me," Oliver said, stepping forward. "So I will tell ye once more, get the fuck out of our house, before I do somethin' I reget."
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Vladimir laughed at Oliver's threat. "Or vhat, Vood? Vhat are you going to be doing? After I kick your ass, I'm going to be finishing vhat I start and fuck her like the whore she is, and I make sure you vatch. You vatch me raping your little girlfriend in your bed, in your house, and you can do nothing about vhat you are seeing. How is that sounding?"
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"I thin' ye should floo for some Aurors, Lisa," Oliver said shakily, his wand quivering to match his voice. He wanted to rush over to her and put her to bed, like a child who'd just had a nightmare, and curl around her and hold her and reassure her that it was over, but he could only imagine what she must be feeling. Whatever it was, he was sure it didn't involve his glomping on her and kissing her senseless. He could imagine she probably didn't want to be touched, after being groped by that slime Berbatov. Besides, Oliver wanted to make sure the 'situation' was entirely over before comforting her. He didn't think he was capable of providing much comfort while he still felt so uneasy. Best to get the Bulgarian out of the house first. They'd both feel better then. Still, Oliver stepped close to her, but didn't touch her. He tried to give her his most reassuring gaze.
"Let's get him gone, yeah?"
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"Look who got blood on the carpet this time." she muttered. She looked back over at Oliver for a moment. She pushed away from the wall and went to do as he said, calling the Aurors over. Within a few minutes, they were there, three of them, two men and a woman. She knew them, but she hardly cared enough to feel embarrassed. In any case, this would probably be all over the Daily Prophet the next morning.
Once they were gone, Lisa curled up on the sofa, bringing her knees to her chest. She rested her chin between her knees and stared at the floor for a long while, waiting for Oliver to come sit with her.
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"I ken ye dinna like tae drink, but it will ease yer body and make ye feel warm. It's no enough tae get ye drunk, just tae ease yer nerves." He said softly, though he truly didn't expect her to drink any of it. He stood then and walked to the large patio doors and windows, locking them firmly and pulling the curtain to over them. He dimmed the lights in the room, magicked up the stain of Vladimir's blood on the carpet and at the very last, he lit a fire in their fireplace.
He turned and gazed at her for a long moment, his own whisky still in his hand. Seeing her sitting there, curled in upon herself, left him feeling guilty for letting the man even get near the house. He downed his whisky then and began circling the house, enhancing the wards, adjusting their signature to now specifically keep out Berbatov. A bit lucky that the bastard bled on the carpet, it was easier to perform the magic with a blood signature. Too bad he couldn't pop Skeeter in the nose, too. It would have made the wards against her easier.
When he was finished making sure the wards would recognise friends and family still, Oliver turned back to Lisa, feeling worse still. He wasn't sure how to comfort her, what to say. He finally felt as if she was safe, the wards boosted, Berbatov arrested, and the whisky sitting warm in his belly made him feel a bit more at ease. He sat down next to her once more and was glad to see Francie sitting dutifully at Lisa's feet, at point, back straight, looking fierce and determined for a dog her age.
"Go rest now, my white poppy. I'll see her through." Oliver said to Francie in Gaelic and Francie lifted a paw to Lisa's lap before making a small nose of comfort and padding out of the room and into the hallway, where she laid down between their bedroom and the front door, silently guarding her master and his mistress. Oliver couldn't help but smile. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. He still didn't kiss her, for fear it was too soon and he'd bring up some still fresh memories of Berbatov. He simply placed a kiss to her temple, right above her scar, letting her know he was there - he was there, not Vladimir.
"I've got ye now, lovely. I have you now."
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As soon as Oliver pulled her into his arms, she moved her arms around him and hugged him loosely. She was soon clinging to him, though, and shaking. It didn't take much to realize that she was crying- something she hated to do in front of anyone but her father. Even Oliver. That didn't seem to matter to her, though. She laid her head against his chest and just let go. She'd never been so vulnerable in front of him before, and she was sure he noticed. She hoped he didn't think less of her. Lisa cried for a long time, not saying a word. She just clung to him and got his shirt nice and wet, something she'd be embarrassed for later.
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"Shh," he said into her ear, tender and gently, his hand still smoothing over her back. "Shh, darlin', I've got ye safe now. I've got ye."
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"Ollie," she choked. "I'm sorry."
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