Narrative

[bright_lisa]

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

Comments

[woodatdawn]

Oliver was sizing Vladimir up as well, but Oliver's inner monologue was a bit more realistic than Vladimir's own egotistical one. Standing next to Lisa, who came up to his chin, Vladimir probably measured just under two meters. Given Oliver's own height, that put him a good fifteen centimeters over the Bulgarian. What Oliver had lost in muscle strength over the years, he'd certainly not lost in agility. His own legs were long and lithe compared to Vladmir's, who was all thigh and probably slower at a run. He was a beater, Lisa had told him once - and obviously good at what he did, to play for his country's national team. Oliver knew Vlad probably had the upper hand in arm strength.

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."

[bright_lisa]

Lisa bit down on her bottom lip at Oliver's last comment, urged to smile at his remark despite the situation. Vladimir was not as amused, though. He did exactly as Oliver had wanted him to do and pushed Lisa away, with some force. Lisa looked over at the two, waiting a moment. Vladimir looked over at her and glared threateningly and she suddenly sprang back to life, taking Francie by the collar and gently guiding her away from the two men. She didn't like it very much, but she felt like a damsel in distress, that Vladimir was the evil villain and Oliver was the tall, strong, manly prince coming to save her, her hero.

"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.

[woodatdawn]

Oliver withdrew his wand and very quickly took a step forward and pressed against the man's temple the moment he drew his on Lisa. Oliver nudged the man in the head, casually from an outside point of view, but Oliver knew, and Vladimir, how very hard it was being pressed into the man's skin. Oliver was using his right hand to do this - and Lisa might have noticed as much. He kept his good hand, his left hand, free and it lay at his side, twitching and itching to rip the man a new hole to shite from.

"I suggest, Berbatov, that you get the hell outtae our house."

[bright_lisa]

Suddenly, Vladimir felt... scared? Yes, scared. Of this Scottish man, pressing the tip of his wand into his temple. He could tell that the man was itching to cast the most unforgivable curse. He might have seen the fear in Vladimir's eyes, but he quickly masked it with a smug grin. "'Our' house? Vood, as far as I feel concerned, Lisa pays for flat every month. You are vashed up Quidditch failure. Do you not think that she vould rather have man that can provide? I have money. You, not so much. I take care of voman. You only have story of past career. She never vill vant you truly, you are nothing."

[woodatdawn]

"Stalking me, Vlad?" Oliver said evenly, though it was clear he was anything but calm. The only thing, if anything that was keeping him from decking Vladimir was his knowledge that Lisa thought none of those things - and because of Lisa, he was realising he was good, and loved, and man enough for Lisa. Lisa's approval was better than any other praise.

"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."

[bright_lisa]

There were a few times in which Lisa thought it perfectly acceptable to fight, and, well, this was one of them. She was wondering why Oliver hadn't killed Vladimir yet, with everything he was saying.

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?"

[woodatdawn]

"Deoghail am fallus bhàrr duine mharbh siadha tiadhan," Oliver growled, but Vladimir wouldnt have been able to hear the end of the sentence, even if he'd been able to understand the Gaelic for Suck the sweat off of a dead man's balls. It was the worst he could think of in his state. Oliver was shaking with rage and adrenaline - he had just punched Vladimir solidly, in the square of his face, breaking his nose with ease. A quick body bind and Vladimir Berbatov was unconscious, bound and bleeding on his carpet. He wanted to give Vladimir the chance to leave, too scared of his own urge to hex the man. He didn't want to get the authorities involved, but now it seemed like he had little choice. He wanted this documented, properly, with no chance of Vladimir twisting it to suit his own needs. Oliver wanted to make sure, very sure, that Berbatov was out of Lisa's life for good.

"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?"

[bright_lisa]

Lisa had backed herself against the wall and was just staring, glaring, watching Vladimir's body as if he might jump up and come after the two of them. She finally looked up at Oliver. She looked like a scared, vulnerable little child. She just nodded at him, but made no move to go. She looked over at Vladimir once more, glaring again.

"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.

[woodatdawn]

Oliver went to the wine cabinet and removed the small bottle of whisky he kept there. He grabbed two glasses, setting them on the coffee table. He sat beside her before pouring a large portion for himself and a mouthful for Lisa. He held it up to her, smoothing one hand over the small of her back.

"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."

[bright_lisa]

At first, Lisa refused the drink, shaking her head and turning away. But she hesitated after a moment and took the glass from him. When he turned from her, she downed it quickly, and promptly began to cough. That stuff was disgusting. She couldn't believe he drank it. She moved and set it down and then curled back up, reaching to pet Francie for a moment. She was grateful for Francie. She wasn't sure if she had helped much, but she had felt safer with her there, standing between them and growling.

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.

[woodatdawn]

"Och," Oliver murmured, a bit startled to find her so suddenly crying and clutching to him. He hated to see her crying and he held her close. He let go of her only once, with his left hand, and pulled her afghan from Gram down and around her shoulders. He pulled her closer once more, sure if anything that the warmth of the fire, whisky and afghan might help calm her, like a bairn, in a cocoon, safe in the arms of someone who loved her, warm and taken care of.

"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."

[bright_lisa]

His comfort was good. It made her feel a little better, but didn't stop her tears. Not yet. After he spoke, she pulled her head up, but avoided looking at him. She didn't want him to see her crying. It was bad enough that she was. She sat up a bit and wiped at her face, but it didn't do much but allow the fresh tears to create new tracks down her cheeks. She fell against Oliver again, hugging him tightly.

"Ollie," she choked. "I'm sorry."

[woodatdawn]

"Wha'?" he murmured, confused. "Why? Ye didna do anythin' wrong. Och, mo nighean donn, dinna cry, sweetheart, I've got ye, for now and for always. Shh," he murmured, again and again, cradling her close and rubbing her back. He never hated a man more in his life. He felt sorry for a split second, sorry that he hadn't hexed Vladimir to Kingdom Come. Still, he knew he'd never jeopardize his relationship with Lisa with the chance of Azkaban. Berbatov wasn't worth prison.

[bright_lisa]

She hardly heard him, though. After he finished, she continued. "Aren't you mad at me? I thought you were, for finding me with him like that. I didn't want him to kiss me, though, I want you to know that. I hope you know that." She hugged him tight again. "I don't want him."

[woodatdawn]

"Lisa," he said softly, tilting up her head so that she faced him. "Darlin', look at me. I'd have tae be a fool and piss poor boyfriend tae think for one wee hair of a second ye'd want tae take him back." He kissed her forehead and sighed heavily. "Aye, when I first came back, I didna ken wha' tae think. I didna ken who he was and I coulda hexed him on the spot - but then Francie growled and lookin' as she did, and you lookin' as you did, and then, fuck, the moment I heard him speak. Merlin! If he hadna be clutchin' on ye so tight, I might have killed him on the spot. After all ye've tol' me, I'd be a fool not tae know ye hated him."

[bright_lisa]

"Good," she said softly, staring up at him for a moment. She pulled her head away and hid her face from him, though. "Don't look at me." she murmured. Her face, she was sure, was red and splotchy and very unattractive. "I felt better with Francie there. I love her." she turned her head and kissed Oliver's shirt lightly. "I love you. Thank you. I'm just grateful that you came back early."