A/N: I never thought I'd write a song fic with this song, but when I heard it the other night, this kind of just popped into my head. Oh, the song is I do not hook up by Kelly Clarkson.

Disclaimer: JKR- if you are going to read this and sue me for taking your characters, please review. Same for you, Kelly Clarkson. You as well, Queen.

Oh, Sweetheart, put the bottle down, you've got

Too much talent

Oliver

We lost. We lost. We lost.

Katie

I walked out of the hospital wing sullenly. Harry was awake now, and Madam Pomfrey had shooed us out. The Weasley twins, who were to be trying to spark some sort of hope in us, although looking very bummed out themselves, were having some conversation about how many points this team or that team had to score for us to still have a chance in the tournament. Angelina nodded every few seconds, but I wasn't listening. Alicia seemed to have suddenly taken an interest in her shoelaces, as her head was hung and she was looking at the floor.

Harry was shocked when we told him that we had lost, despite the dementors. Diggory had tried to call for a rematch, but even Wood had acknowledged that Huffelpuff was the rightful winner. Speaking of-

"Is Wood still in the showers?" Angelina wondered, stealing the words right out of my mouth.

"Surely he wood have come up by now," Fred added, having finished analyzing the amount of points needed.

"Or perhaps he's succeeded in drowning himself," George finished.

Alicia's mouth formed a small circle. "We should go get him," she said, always the worrywart.

I sighed. "I'll do it," I volunteered.

The others looked at me with appreciation and hurried up to the common room. I sulked outside and pulled up the hood on my robe. The storm we had played in was still raging. I hurriedly made my way to the locker rooms, flinging the door open.

Wood sat on the bench, still in his quidditch gear. His elbows were on his knees and his head was in his hands. He twitched slightly when I entered.

I closed the door and walked over to him.

"Wood?" I called, shaking his shoulder.

He looked up at me, his eyes empty and his face shallow. He looked horrible. I lowered my voice.

"Wood, you've got to come back up to-"

"It's not just a game," He said softly. "It's my whole life."

I stood for a second, not knowing quite what to say. I put my hand on his arm and jumped.

"Merlin, Wood, you're freezing!" His arm was cold to the touch. I raised my eyebrows in concern.

He touched his sleeve, looking confused. "Oh," he muttered. "I guess I'll… change, then," He said slowly.

"I should hope so!" I said, astonished.

He walked into the boy's side of the locker room. I shuffled around in the middle.

He came back out, still looking a bit bedraggled. I couldn't help but notice, that sweater looked spanking on him…

He looked at me and started to walk towards the door. I followed.

"Where're your robes?" I ask, noticing he was only wearing his sweater and jeans.

"I don't know," He muttered.

"Here," I said, wrapping my arm around his shoulder so my robe covered us both. "It's still raining out there,"

I opened the door and we plunged out into the storm. Wood started shivering and I tried to hold him more tightly. We made it up to the castle without being blown away, and I unraveled myself from him. He was staring blankly in front of him. I nudged him forward, and we spent the rest of the walk to the common room in silence.

We climbed through the portrait hole and I flopped onto the nearest couch. Only a few smatterings of people were left in the common room. Most had gone to bed early after the depressing game. I looked over at Wood, who was still staring blankly at the wall. I sighed again, and made my way up to the girl's dormitory.

Oliver

We lost.

When did I get in the common room? Oh, Bell brought me. Why did I have to be brought? Am I too weak to bring myself somewhere?

I'm a horrible Captain. And player. I let my team down.

I got up. I don't know why. I certainly wasn't going to bed. There was no way I'd be able to sleep. I need something to get me away from this feeling. It's so… sad. Anything to get me away.

I wander over to a box lying under a coffee table. Maybe this can take me away…

In the box lay a few dozen bottles of Fire Whiskey, no doubt meant for the after-party that never happened…. Because of me….

And now, I, squeaky-clean-never-eat-junk-food Oliver Wood, am raising a bottle of fire whiskey to my mouth…

I see you through those bloodshot eyes

There's a cure, you've found it

Katie

2:34 AM

"Miss Bell, I would like you to stay after class today," Snape told me.

I flinch. Oh no, I probably got a T on my essay…

"Is something contradictory?" Snape questions.

"Oh!" I snap out of my thoughts. "Erm- yeah, uh, that's fine,"

"Then I shall see you in the greenhouse," says Snape.

"Right," I say, wondering why Snape wants to meet me in the greenhouse. Is he going to threaten me to get better grades with a man-eating plant?

Class ends immediately. I start to make my way towards the greenhouse, but the carpet I am standing starts move. It starts gliding along, down the hall. I shrug. Ok? Is this part of Snape's plan?

I arrive at the greenhouse and open the door. My jaw drops.

Snape greets me, dressed as a tiki warrior. He offers me some cheese.

The other professors are here, too, along with some others- McGonagall is waddling around like she believes she is a penguin, Binns is playing ping-pong with Filch, Mrs. Norris is meowing along to "A Cauldron full of Hot, Strong Love", Colin Creevey is petting Mrs. Norris with his nose, and Flitwick and Sprout are locked in a passionate embrace.

I walk past Cormac McLaggen. He's singing.

"Can anyyyybody fiiiind meeee- somebodyy tooo looooove?"

Cho Chang and Goyle are singing backgrounds behind him, as they all move in a synchronized dance.

"Find me somebody to looove, Find me somebody to looove,"

I pass this group and move on to a giant trampoline in the middle of the room. Somebody throws me on. I start jumping. One, two, threeee! Hey, this is fun- ACK! I'm going to miss the trampoline. Oh well.

THUMP.

I turned over and groaned. Falling of the bed is not fun. And that was a weird dream, what with Snape- oops. I forgot my potions book downstairs. I pondered this for a moment. I guess I should go get it. Though it would be easier to just go back to sleep… No, I'll go get it now.

I walked down the stairs to the common room. I had left my book on the couch in the corner. I walked up to the couch and leaned over the back to grab my book. My breath caught in my throat.

A hunched over figure was sitting on the couch. I regained my calm and glanced at where my book was- sticking out from behind the pillow that the person was leaning up against. I walked around to the front of the couch to confront them.

"Excuse me, my book is-…Wood?"

Sitting on the couch, holding a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey loosely in one hand, was Oliver Wood.

What in the world? Was my first thought. Why is my quidditch captain- who would kill us if we even came near an alcoholic beverage- sitting in the Gryffindor common room in the middle of the night, looking wasted?

He looked up at me and narrowed his eyes. His bottom lip folded over.

Then he crossed his eyes and sneezed. He broke into a huge grin and started giggling madly.

"Hey there- hiccup- Twinkie- oops! Hey is for horses," He broke into a giggling fit again.

"Wood?" I asked in wonder. That was about all I could say, though Wood seemed to have a lot more.

"TEEHEE! WHO'S WOOD? WOOD! THAT'S A FUNNY NAME! LIKE YOUR NAME! BELL! DING-DONG! THAT'S WHY I CALLED YOU TWINKIE! BECAUSE DING DONG-"

I cut him off sharply by slapping my hand on his mouth.

"Oliver Wood!" I whispered sharply. "You'll wake up the whole bloody tower!"

What is he doing? Oliver Wood never jokes! He barely talks, unless it's to the team or himself!

His mouth formed a little "o" and he looked serious.

"I hope I wake them up!" He whispered back. "Dawn practices for the whole school!"

I was speechless. At least we were getting closer to the old Wood.

"No," He added, looking sad now. "Only me. I need more practice. I'm not good. I'm a horrible captain, a horrible player, a horrible person,"

Drunken Oliver Wood has more mood swings than swing set full of teenaged girls. Ok, bad analogy, but who cares?

"Wood! How would you be Captain on Gryffindor's quidditch team if you were a horrible Captain? How would you have made the team if you're a horrible player?" I was on a roll at this time. Then, softly, I added, "How would I be here right now if you're a horrible person?"

Wood's one of the best people I know. He's got his priorities where he wants then, he's really nice –that is, not during quidditch- he's helpful, and really generous. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm in love with him –though he's really adorable- he's just a good guy.

He looked at me skeptically. He looked so crestfallen, I felt sad, too. I wasn't even sure what we were sad about.

"I'm worthless," He whispered. "I'm the reason we lost the match against Huffelpuff," He looked like he could kill himself.

"What? Wood, the dementors and the dementors only, are the reason we lost. How do you figure you lost us the match?" I asked.

"I- if I'd only- saved more- we could've…" He trailed off.

"You don't even know! You're just babbling! Wood, you only let four in- there's no way you could have won us the match. We're a team. We win as a team, we lose as a team." I finished.

Good speech, Katie.

I looked at the bottle in his hands. Fire whiskey? Wood? They just don't go together.

" Oh, Oliver," I said, grabbing for the bottle.

Since when do I call him Oliver?

I started to pull the bottle out of his limp hand. He tightened his grip quickly.

"NO!" He shouted, withdrawing the bottle and hunching over more.

I pulled back and shushed him.

"You'll wake everyone!" I whispered furiously. "Oliver Wood, give me that bottle right now.

He shook his head and pouted.

"Wood!"

He pulled up his knees.

"Oliver!"

He looked at me, and I saw how really terrible he looked. His hair was all over the place, and in some places crusted or stuck to his forehead. His face was hallow and gaunt-looking, paler than usual. He looked like he couldn't walk if he had wanted to. The worst were his eyes. They were bloodshot and looked dead, the maniac glint was gone.

He handed me the bottle.

"How many have you had?" I asked. How many fire whiskeys does it take to get Oliver Wood drunk?

"Uh- One," He said. Oliver isn't a very good liar, and being drunk didn't help.

"Oliverrrr?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Fine. Um, Two," He shuffled his feet nervously and I heard glass clinking together. I got down on my knees and crawled under his legs. Under the couch were at least a dozen empty fire whiskey bottles.

I lifted my head up quickly and knocked my head against the corner of the couch.

"Ouch!" I winced and put my hand gingerly to the side of my throbbing head.

I saw Oliver's face for a moment, as he must have leaned over to see what was going on. Then his face turned very white and he flipped over in a somersault, landing halfway on the table. He groaned and fell off.

There I was, lying on the floor, holding my head, while a drunken Oliver Wood rolled around on the floor beside me, giggling uncontrollably one moment and deathly serious the next.

A/N: I do like writing drunk! I mean, I'm not drunk while I'm writing- I like to write about drunken people. Is that weird?

This is going to be quite a bit longer than I expected, and it is my first time actually having to update a story. The other one I wrote was already completed when I put it up.

See you later, then