Like a Slap in the Face

Oliver Wood is an insufferable good-for-nothing twit.
All he does is swagger around, flaunting his Quiddich title and show off his godly good-looks. Wood is the sort of person who is bloody gorgeous and knows it. He isn't afraid to show it off either. And boy does he make an effort of strutting around, sending his petty fan girls winks. He can't keep his self-obsorbed, nosy attitude to himself, either. And the toerag can go die in a hole full of nagging, strict Percy Weasleys and sharp basilisk fangs for all I care.
But don't get me wrong, I love the guy.

48Likes
72Comments
3600Views
AA

1. Erm. Hello

Oliver Wood is an insufferable good-for-nothing twit. 
All he does is swagger around, flaunting his Quiddich title and show off his godly good-looks. Wood is the sort of person who is bloody gorgeous and knows it. He isn't afraid to show it off either. And boy does he make an effort of strutting around, sending his petty fan girls winks. He can't keep his self-obsorbed, nosy attitude to himself, either. And the toerag can go die in a hole full of nagging, strict Percy Weasleys and sharp basilisk fangs for all I care.
But don't get me wrong, I love the guy.
Just not at the moment.
"OLIVER BLOODY WOOD, YOU COMPLETE NUTTER!" I screamed, my now-red hair blowing behind me as I chased after my bestfriend. 
I could hear his obnoxious laugh as he nearly trampled a group of firsties. I pretty much ripped through the crowd, trying to get him. 
"GET YOUR ARSE BACK HERE THIS VERY MOMENT!" 
For once I was thankful of all the laps Oliver had given over the years. Despite his long legs, I had somehow caught up to him, launching myself onto his back, wrapping my arm successfully around his neck. And the bloody tosser fell to the ground, being strangled by none other than yours truly. 
"You insufferable twat!" I hissed. Oliver had the upper-hand in this fight, considering he was most-likely over six foot, and I being a tiny five foot, three. So he used that as an advantage as he rolled onto his back squishing me successfully. The other students in the corridor merely shot us amused glances. It was sad, but this was actually a quite common occurrence for the two of us. 
"Geroff–" I squeaked as he chuckled, but obliged.
"You can't beat me, Strange." He drawled. 
Yes, I was cursed with the worst last name ever to be. But my bloody evil parents decided naming me Delira before they left me to die. Delira Strange, Delira meaning crazy. 
So my name was Crazy Strange. 
Lovely. 
Oliver proceeded in picking me up like a rag doll before tossing me over his shoulder. I, however, made no efforts at protest. In fact, I happened to like free rides to the common room. I looked at my strands of red hair, already forgetting why I was mad. 
"What color?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Blue" came his response. I quickly turned my hair to a light blue. 
Yes, I'm an metamorphmagus. Deal with it. 
"Y'know," I started, staring at his arse in front of me. "Your fangirls are right, you do have a nice bum." I mused. 
"So I've been told." He was probably blushing. I knew he was blushing. I was so used to my friend's habbits that I could predict them. 
Or maybe I'm a seer.
....nah. 
"We there yet?" I grinned.
"Nope." 
"Now?"
"No."
"What about now?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"No."
I sighed, drumming my fingers against his back. If he would of stopped before we got too far from the common room, it wouldn't take so bloody long. 
"May I walk?" I asked. There was a pause. 
"Okay." Thus I found myself face-down on the corridor floor. With a glare, I got to my feet. 
Sodding git...
"Snoogliepoof!" Shrieked an annoyingly high-pitched voice. If my day hadnt been bad enough. 
"Raquel!" Grinned Oliver as the blonde bint latched herself onto his arm, successfully squeezing herself between the two of us. 
"Your hair looks...nice." Commented Raquel with a distasteful glance.
"Thanks. Ollie picked it out." I said, voice leaking with obvious coldness. I could tell she hated it when I called him Ollie. I was the only one aloud to call him by the horrid nick name I gave him during our diaper years. 
"Soo..." Oliver sensed the obvious tension between the two of us. "Care for lunch, anyone?" 
I scrunched my nose in disgust. "Not with the likes of her. Catch ya later, Oliver." Before he could properly speak, I left the disgusting couple to themselves and headed to the kitchens. How do I know of them, you may ask? Lets just say the Weasley twins and I happened to attend many dorm parties. And we bring the alcohol. 
I usually come down here when I'm miffed at that sorry excuse of a girl, Raquel Foster. To be honest, I don't see why Oliver hasn't dumped her fake butt. She deserves it, that's certain. In fact, it's common knowledge to myself that she's just using my bestfriend as arm candy. In fact, she had told me that only weeks prior.
I slammed my dormitory door shut on the face of Alicia Spinnet. We got in another one of our fake fights and were so bloody fake angry. 
But not really of course. 
Turning around, I instantly regretted coming back to my dorm so early. Raquel was sitting in front of the mirror, gluing on fake eyelashes and admiring her cleavage. 
"You're fake, you know that?" 
"And you're so disgustingly plain that it hurts." She snickered. "I see why my boyfriend hangs around you; you're nothing but a charity case." 
Ow. 
"At least I don't need two pounds of makeup and fake boobs to impress anyone." I snort. 
"Oh please. Your just jealous that I have Oliver wrapped around my little finger." She said with an air of superiority. "He was so easy to trick, it was almost sad." 
My eyes widened and I had a feeling my hair was blood red at the moment. "Tricked?!"
"Yes, tricked! Why else would I want that dim wit for than popularity? Although he is gorgeous, and one hell of a shag. The Quiddtich Captain and his girl." She mused. 
I was mentally planning her funeral. 
I can honestly say that I don't have any self restraint in the slightest. In fact, nothing was holding me back from attacking her, so that's precisely what I did. 
I had tackled her to the ground quite easily. The girl's screaming was enough for my friends Angelina and Alicia to sprint upstairs. I was in the process of choking that bimbo when they forced me off. She lay there breathing heavily after I was off and dragged down the steps and into the common room. Bad mistake.
"LEMME GO SO I CAN SHOVE MY FOOT UP HER–"
The screaming continued as I fought against them, absolutely livid. They had a rough time restraining me. I was much smaller than my super model friends, but when I was angry, nothing stood in my way. 
Except maybe Oliver Wood and that's what happened. I felt two arms wrap around me from behind, hoisting me up and leaving the common room and the Gryffindor Tower. At first I was too furious to wonder where we were going. I had a feeling it was the Quiddich Pitch, of course. 

My story goes on, him taking me there, let me beat of a few bludgers before asking what happened. I refused to say anything. Although I hated it, I could never brake his heart like that. Oliver was bound to get an earful of what I did, along with the rest of Hogwarts, all by Raquel. That little bint best watch out.
I made it to the kitchens eventually. 
"Miss Stange would like something?" Asked a small voice. I look down and recognize Princess the house elf imeadiately. She was such a sweet elf. I decided calling her Princess the third or forth time I had came here. 
"Yes, please. Just hot chocolate and a peice of cake would be fine." I smile warmly. 
"What kind, Miss Strange?" She asked eagerly.
"Suprise me."

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...