More than a Game ||Oliver Wood||

{The Clubhouse}

"What the fuck are you doing here?" once again the same Scottish voice was heard.

Not him, not again. I won't be able to take it I swear. I didn't even want to do this. It was supposed to be Quidditch and Quidditch only. And his voice, I cannot handle his voice. His voice is probably the most annoying thing I've experienced, and I've had classes with Lockhart. No, this is worse.

"Please, take your seat Miss Owens next to Mister Wood," Flitwick said. "I believe you have met through Quidditch."
"Oh indeed we have," I said under my breath.

I walked slowly to him; my fist clenched. He looked at me with so much hatred. I thought it couldn't go any further, but oh well, it did.

"Don't say a word," I said sitting down next to him.

He scoffed. "And here I was sitting thinking my last year will be peaceful."

"Why Woody, am I not peaceful enough for you?" I said, without having even a single joking tone in my voice. I was pissed. Mostly with myself, for not seeing this coming. How was I so stupid? Maybe it was the fact that I never actually saw Wood as a seventeen-year-old. He's always been an annoying little kid to me.

"Look, I'm not going to do this." He said.

"Do what exactly?"

"Stand you."

I hated the fact that I was agreeing with him. But this was out of my hands. Flitwick would never let me drop the class. For a Ravenclaw he's too absolute. And McGonagall, oh McGonagall would be of no help. I pushed my head into my hands.

"If you are going to be here, you should at least pay attention." Wood spoke. I wanted to kill him I swear.

"If you are going to be here, you should at least leave me alone."

He sighed. "Great, this year will be fucking great," he said, his voice soaked in irony.

"I wholeheartedly agree."

I walked out of the classroom as quickly as I could. I couldn't stand being next to Oliver Wood any longer. I ran around the school as we usually do and checked my watch. It was break time, and there was only one place to be in at break time. I run up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower and walked right into the seventh-floor corridor. The troll painting stood right there where it was last year and the wall across from it, white and clean. I took a breath and closed my eyes; slowly I started walking down that corridor. Once, twice. The third time a thud was heard. I smiled while a huge door appeared onto the wall.

The Room of Requirement. Este had found that room two years ago. It is an excellent story, really. She was just an irritated third year who had taken just enough electives to throw her off the line. Her common room, while cozy, had its share of overly excited people who would usually distract her from the assignment she was working on. That one day, with her books in hand, she had stormed off the Hufflepuff common room and went in search of a quiet study space. Tired and defeated, she had reached the seventh floor. Walking around she only had one thing in mind. Her dream study space. Her uncountable need and desire had led her to wake what we called the Clubhouse.

It's kind of ironic, because it's not like our friend group can be called a "club", but Grouphouse or Friendhouse aren't exactly what the Weasleys call a "cool name".

I entered the Clubhouse just to find Este in her huge armchair that is the exact mix between a cozy pillow seat and a strong-back study chair, also called the dream. Fred and George were also there as always but they were sitting in the unbreakable room. Este designed that room because we all know that the twins cannot be left to cast their trickster spells and brew their weird potions in plain sight. They could destroy that room in under a second.