Oliver hurried up the stairs, sobbing and holding his head back so the vomit in his hair didn't run onto his face. He got to the bathroom on the second floor and pulled off his clothes, it was his best shirt. He whimpered as he looked at the vomit on it before placing it on the bath floor. He then took the shower head and washed his vomit covered area and also deeply sweaty areas. He at first didn't plan to get into the shower but then proceeded to as he noticed just how much there was.
Oliver was struggling to imagine how his father would handle him later. He was doomed, he had messed up big time. It wasn't his fault though, the head injury and being forced conscious by a lazy spell just tossed his entire stomach. Unfortunately he had been eating all day. He wondered if Erin would tell people but he was getting knowledgeable in how 'cool' people thought. Erin likely wouldn't share what Oliver did as she likely wouldn't even let anyone know she spent time in summer with Oliver.
He stepped out soon after and dried himself quick, waddling to his bedroom with a towel around his waist. He left the clothes in the bathtub.

Once in his room with the door closed shut, Oliver took his clothes he was given and laid them out as he dropped his towel. He leaned over to take his underwear when:

"Dammit Oliver!"

Oliver squealed and grabbed his underwear and held it between his legs. He wasn't directly visible when she had entered but he now had his butt cheek turned towards her as he raced to grass his shorts to cover more. He looked at Erin and absorbed the anger within her right now, he'd been beaten before when Erin wasn't even angry so how he imagined the next few moments were pretty horrifying. Leaning over with his fresh clothes was his wand, on his bed. He grabbed that as well and swiftly raised it towards Erin.
"Don't you freaking dare! Or I swear I'll blast you, I really will!" Oliver shrieked. Notably, his wand had some tape on the butt, with an arrow drawn on it pointing upwards, the direction he was meant to hold it. Today, Oliver was holding his wand correctly. He stood with nothing on his body, cheeks freshly wet with tears. His eyebrows were furrowed however and it seemed he really wasn't going to allow himself to be bullied in his own bedroom.

Oliver was still butt naked, his pudgy tummy hanging onto his hand that held his sweatpants and underwear between his legs. His butt cheeks were gigantic and his whole body was quite round. Oliver was extremely embarrassed to be seen naked, more embarrassed than anytime ever Erin would have seen him. He was trying to conceal his body with his arms, but was too afraid to let his guard down. It was evident thought that he was extremely uncomfortable, not only because he was naked before someone else, but also because he was ashamed of how he appeared.

Oliver's eyes glanced around him and if his stomach could sink anymore, it would. There was action figures, wizardry beasts, wooden blocks in the shapes of castles. So many toys were collected in many different sections of the bedroom. The entire room itself looked like it was for a 7 year old at most. He regained focus eventually and straightened back up his wand arm, aiming at Erin's chest. He took in her clothes, his clothes, and also took in the fact that she had got a really good t-shirt compared to him, one of his best actually.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Oliver told, trying to calm Erin down, really not wanting the situation to progress to him breaking the law. He would have to though, this was self defense. He could honestly see himself dying, that surely allowed for him to cast one spell.
If Erin was to move closer with the intent of violence or had any scary demeanor, Oliver would unleash his surprisingly powerful magic ability on her. If Erin was to move forward with seemingly peaceful intentions, Oliver would back up to the wall but allow her to move through his room. He wouldn't allow Erin to get too close however and would yell for her to stop if she tried to get within arm range.

Erin screamed as if bleach has been flung into her face and her hands tried to wipe away the team. "Merlin, I am Bliiiiind!" She cried. There were some things better left unseen. Some things that were best forgotten. There were some benevolent uses for Obliviate. 

The sweatpants and over-sized T shirt clad teen stumbled to the side, an ataxic gait. She might have even stumbled over an action figure or stepped on a dreaded LEGO, the bane of muggle households. What the hell was wrong with him! She did not see anything, well if she did she was not sure she had. It was all a blur and then darkness, her rational mind was already trying to blot out the trauma. 

Oliver covered himself, not that it mattered. She was not looking anyways. In a blind rage Erin would attempt to grab something, anything from the room she hardly had a chance to recognize. An instrument of bludgeoning? No, she wanted a sheet, a comforter, a curtain, hell she would be satisfied with a towel at this point. There was no sign of peace-making, her face said it all. She was going to make the boy rue the day he was born. With her foot she would try to find his door and attempt to kick it closed. Most boys look forward to their first experience in a bedroom alone with a girl, but Erin was the destroyer of such hopes and dreams. It was more an exercise in survival than a coming of age experience when it came to Erin in most things, this being no exception.

She stormed across the room, possibly grabbing something in transit. The motions rough, they lacked finesse as the girl resembled more a juggernaut than a wizard. She would not see Oliver draw his wand from god knows where, or him level his weapon of choice at her chest. "I am going to kick your ass so frigging hard you nerd..." she growled.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Oliver was trying to defuse the situation. On a more reasonable person, that might have worked. Erin was far from equitable or just. Oliver's words would fall of deaf ears, but she would feel the tip of his ash wood wand poke her in the chest when she got too close. Erin would attempt to grab Oliver by the arm. If she had found something of cloth, such as a bed-sheet or quilt she would have that in the same hand to serve as a barrier to protect her from being contaminated by his nakedness. She did not open her eyes as she made some less than feminine noise that was someplace between a grunt and a shout as she attempted to apprehend Oliver. 

Her intention, toss him in the closet and secure it closed. A bit cliche for a bully tactic but Erin was far from original. If Oliver shot at her with his wand, he would not miss. Erin was standing right in front of him. In fact, he probably would not even blast himself into next week this time considering the fact that he was holding his wand in the right direction.

Oliver grew red at the reaction. Even boys in the dorm would act the same way, that or make fun. He could take the verbal insults, but when it came to actually revealing the raw Oliver bod, he grew weak from the anxiety. Which was what was happening now, Oliver had begun freezing up, unable to pull his arm into a wand wave to cast the needed spell. He watched as Erin stormed towards him and he watched her grab his bed blanky and use it to protect her grip. Little did she know, Oliver slept naked under that blanket.

"F-f-flih-flu-"

Oliver stuttered as Erin approached, unable to cast the spell. He was attempting the wand movements but all of his practice wasn't really doing him any favours. Oliver trained as much as possible with spell casting, he had no friends to hang out with to pass the weekends in Hogwarts so he just spent hours doing dueling spells. He mostly envisioned blasting Erin with them too. He was meant to be ready for this moment. Yet just like at the Ball, he was messing it all up.
His forearm was grabbed and he was pulled off balance. In the flurry of movement, Oliver dropped his shorts and underwear that were protecting his privatized area, falling flat on his raw butt as he entered the closet. He notably bounced on his landing. As he landed, he raised his arm and through splutter, he managed to bellow the incantation. As the words formed, his mind raced through his entire life. How he had been excited for his mother to return home from Azkaban only to find her to be the silent husk she is now. Or when he'd imagine how cool it'd be in Hogwarts and how he'd finally be in friend groups and go on adventures with pals. Instead the images of him alone, bullied and neglected raced through his brain. He scrunched his eyes as he demanded that he deserved respect, he deserved happiness and that he knew he was special. Happiness wasn't going to come to him like it did most children, he was going to have to fight for it. Oliver would not back down, he was starting his fighting today.

"FLIPENDO!"

Oliver boomed, waving the wand perfectly. He cast the strongest flipendo he had ever managed to pull off, just as Erin put him in the closet, he managed to aim his wand at her and directly hit her in the chest with his spell.
If Oliver was released without fray, he would stand up, eyes wide at the serious act he had just committed. He would drop his wand and begin to mutter inaudible murmurings. Without a single inch of clothing on him, he'd stand unable to move. Until he would. Oliver's arm would reach around behind him, his hand lower and his fingers would scratch his butt cheek three times before he'd return to his frozen state.

Erin would going to have to bleach or set fire to everything. 

The irate Slytherin stormed across the room, kicking whatever unfortunate stray toy that rested in her path out of the way as she blindly attempted to assail that stuttering boy. Erin was nothing more than a brute, reliant on her physical strength which would wane in the coming years. Oliver was merely the unfortunate creature that she had focused her ire upon. Did Oliver deserve it? No, not really. The victims rarely did, although there was often a plethora of reasons spewed by most bullies as to why -- as if having a reason would somehow absolve them of their wrong-doing. It didn't. Some people believed that "kids would be kids" and that bullies were a part of the growing pains; that the mean-kid antics were what made children into adults and better people. Truly it did neither, but it did change them and never for the better. They might be empathetic to those that share in their suffering but their hearts would be locked away, housed someplace safe. Their minds and bodies honed for the purpose of self-defense, their efforts towards not only self-defense and protection but dominance. There is this fear and hate born from their experiences, a sensation that they too in many cases will ultimately propagate that same resentment in another and the unending cycle of pain would persist. 

Erin would snatch onto the poor Ravenclaw's wrist with her hand almost encircling his meaty appendage. With a yank the blind-girl would pull Oliver in the direction she recalled seeing a closet. Like a Godzilla destroying Tokyo, Erin would trample the toys in her path, stumbling over the unexpectedly large or pointed ones that met the underside of her bare feet. She would thrust the unfortunate, bare-assed youth into the closet. Before she could slam the door and barricade him inside she would hear an all-too-familiar spell.

"FLIPENDO!"

The boy roared. 

It was as if she was kicked by a mule in her chest. She could feel all the wind get knocked from her lungs as she was pushed back. She lost her grip on the rotund boy, the suddenness of the impact took her by surprise. The back of her head would hit the opposite wall, possibly leaving a head-shaped crater in the plaster. The darkness of her blindness exploded in a confetti of lights upon impact. She felt as if her brain slammed against her forehead and then ricocheted off the back of her head before it rattled back into place. 

Did she lose consciousness? Quite possibly. While durable, Erin was unprepared for any powerful expression from Oliver. The same surprise overtook her when Howard finally bit back, resulted in an extended stay in the Hospital Wing in Hogwarts and an unpleasant administration of skelegrow. At least she was not wearing a dress considering the less than civilized posture she had found herself in when she awoke or regained her bearings. Befuddled but no less angry, she would palm the environment around her, feeling the discarded remnants of a childhood Oliver would eventually tear himself away from. "Ugh," a less than eloquent grunt. 

What was she doing again?

She opened her eyes, before her a blurry image, like a fleshy whale. She blinked thrice whilst Oliver scritched his ass thrice. The heck was she looking at? Then the terrible image once again took form. It was like a recurrent nightmare. "Arrrgh!" It was as if she was in physical pain. She closed her eyes tightly. "Oliver get some damned pants on!" 

As odd as it was, this would be Oliver 2, Erin nil. 

Try as she may to turn this situation into one that she had control over, the universe and perhaps Oliver had different plans.

As Oliver watched Erin, he kept his wand aimed at her. He looked at her, so shook and dazed. He could do as he always dreamed of. Oliver finally was in the position to beat the devil out of Erin, his most horrible bully. He could finally take revenge for her heinous crimes committed on Oliver's precious chocolate frog eating sessions. A small smile crept on his face, bearing the massive weight of his cheeks underneath it. A few more Knockback Jinxs would could surely start breaking Erin's bones. Maybe he could knock her out and then physically hit her? No, he'd tire himself out too quick and lose authority on the situation. He looked at Erin and thought back on all the times she had hurt him. What would Erin do? Yet that was exactly it. This was only the path to becoming no better than Erin. Oliver wasn't the wisest kid, but he knew that much. He couldn't step down to Erin's level. Also, he doubted self defense included beating your attacker to a pulp against the wall while bearing very little harm himself. He questioned whether the bump on his forehead from the earlier headbutt but suffice but decided against it.

"Oliver get some damned pants on!"


Oliver squealed a small squeal and grabbed his underwear. He hopped around a bit as he tried to keep his wand aimed at Erin. He had turned his back partially so if Erin remained watched, she could see Oliver's butt cheeks bounce and reverberate along his back and thighs. However with horrible balance, he had to give up and just grabbed his underwear with both hands. He then took his sweatpants and went slowly with them, able to keep his wand aimed now. In a flustered moment, Oliver was now wearing shorts, his tummy hanging out over the belt.

"Are you okay? ...Uh, cause if you are and you plan on beating me up, I can cast several more knockbacks, and I'll make sure to hit you in the face too," Oliver furrowed his brows, his smile long gone. He stepped towards Erin, arm over his nipples. His wand was aimed currently at Erin's head and he seemed to be preparing the wand movement in advance. "Can we... shake hands? Or just call it quits for the day... I need to recover from the vomiting... uh, God," Oliver reminisced on his horrible experience. "If you plan on putting me in that wardrobe though, I don't actually fit so- no! If you plan on doing that, I'll make you cry," Oliver told sternly, his free hand notably clenching into a fist.

Oliver moved closer to Erin, looking down at her whilst moving his wand hand back, out of reach but still aimed. He'd partially offer a hand but he wouldn't actually pull Erin up, she was taller than him and weighed beyond his capability. He would stay upright though, making him as good as holding onto the wall. He sighed in preparation of being hurt, coming to terms with being thrown on the floor or roundhouse kicked in the head. Or falcon kicked between the legs. Oliver couldn't quite justify why he chose to help Erin, he supposed he could see himself in any victim of pain. Now that he hurt Erin, he could finally relate to her. He could probably relate to her in more ways than one but for now, he could see her in the same spot he was always placed in. For Oliver, he was decent enough to be aware of the hardship. Oliver offered his hand to Erin.

She really deserved to get her ass kicked, she had been terrible to the young Ravenclaw. Did he deserve it, no. He was simply different. He failed to conform to the social standard expected of him, his house and his pedigree. Why did that compel someone like Erin to target him? It didn't, he was just a stand-out. Someone who earned her undue attention. He was weaker, the consequences were few and far from dire. He was unpopular and lacked an advocate. It was truly the perfect recipe to be bullied. 

She was too tired to really care anymore. She had been vomited on, flung into a wall, saw things that she could not unsee and left wearing whatever this hideous combination was. This was a humiliating experience she did not want to suffer through or endure any longer than she had to. 

She demanded Oliver to put on a pair of pants. Hopefully the stretch-marked pannus and touching thighs covered the more traumatizing views. She looked away as he wobbled and his jelly-like body parts wiggled and jiggled in the least seductive way possible. "For the love of--" she covered her eyes with her hand but made no other sudden movements with Oliver's wand (the casting one) pointed in Erin's direction.  

"Are you okay? ...Uh, cause if you are and you plan on beating me up, I can cast several more knockbacks, and I'll make sure to hit you in the face too,"

"Are you clothed at least?" His current state of undress being more dangerous to both of their health than whatever spell Oliver had planned for her. She would spread her fingers regardless of his answer and look for herself, not that the scene was glorious but the scene was clothed.

"Can we... shake hands? Or just call it quits for the day... I need to recover from the vomiting... uh, God,"

Oliver was approaching her, his wand leveled at her head. That was not a request or an offer, neither of those are made with a weapon drawn. The Slytherin did not care much for coercion. With a cock-eyed smile and a nod Erin would reply with a "sure" and extend her hand.

"If you plan on putting me in that wardrobe though, I don't actually fit so- no! If you plan on doing that, I'll make you cry,"

He probably should have stopped at the truce with an unspoken threat. It would have been better for his health. "I don't cry," Erin smirked as she palmed the wall with her hand and founding some bit of furniture to raise herself on. "But I sure as hell would like to see you try." She was not going to accept Oliver's hand, their moment, or whatever that was, had passed. When anger and indignation were born from yourself it was different than the empathetic sense of displeasure someone derives from understanding or sympathetically reflecting another's sentiments. The emotion is white hot, plays with one's site, and the gears in their head start to turn faster, harder, hotter...

What does a girl like Erin do when a wand is trained on her? Make his next move something he would intensely regret. 

Bullying was to an extent formulaic -- you embarrass, harm or otherwise demean a target. Done from a position of power, not from an even playing field.  Not from a place where the would-be bully was at a disadvantage. 

Erin did not know the formula. She was more like a beast working on instinct. Bullies are often narcissistic, their targets almost always have a reason even if the bully fails to understand it. She should have taken her hand, pride by damned. Sadly a narcissist is made almost entirely of pride. 

Falcon kick was it?



Well, probably something like that, but far less effective or dramatic considering the fact that Erin was not getting a running start and the Ravenclaw was far too close to her for an effective high kick attack. There is also the fact that the boy was a ham planet, Erin's ability to harm someone that had their own personal gravitational pull was limited. It was unlikely she hit, heck it was more likely that as she posed herself in preparation for the attack Oliver would knock her back with another flippendo into the wall.

Oliver choked up when Erin demanded he try make her cry. He didn't feel it was right to blast her with spells as he knew she sucked at magic. He knew by 5th year if it was still wand vs fists, he'd be strong enough to do more damage in a second than Erin could do in a minute. The damage ratio would outweigh by then. That's why Oliver studied all day and focused on becoming the strongest. All the kids who pass using physical violence or only practicing the spells that hurt kids, Oliver believed he could stomp them when his time comes. He was a nice boy though, too nice for his own good. Even the person he hated most in the world he couldn't bring himself to hurt.

Which is what lead to him getting falcon kicked. Oliver was extremely slow, his reaction speed was barely existent. So slow in fact that his body could be visibly seen jerking away after the kick landed. The impact knocked him back on his butt, a bounce brought him further. It completely winded him too, heels landing into his substantially large belly. Noticeably a gigantic, rippling fart erupted from Oliver as he was thrown back, Erin's foot pushing all the stench air out of him in a single pump.
As the room filled with fecal matter and begun to smell like diarrhea, Oliver tried to get up but found weight on him.

Erin's foot had been absorbed by Oliver's bellybutton region and swallowed, causing for her to be pulled with Oliver as he crossed the room. As Oliver would slap off his wooden plank floor, she would come loose. She'd find herself on Oliver however. The Ravenclaw on his butt with his hands trying to push himself off the floor whilst Erin weighed down on the boy's diagonal torso. Whether she chose to sit down on his sweaty, jelly body was an option, yet even in her current position over him, Oliver was stuck.

Oliver tried to protect his face and raised his wand. Yet it wasn't in his hand anymore. He looked around yet he received a thump that fully turned his head the opposite way. His vision dazed and he
begun fully covering his head. He looked up at Erin through his thick arms, trying to deflect her fists with his elbows but doing a horrible job.
What is wrong with her?! Oliver was seeing a feral animal at this point. The room smelt like crap, Oliver never got a chance to get his breath back and was struggling in the musky stench. He looked at Erin with his spinning vision and couldn't even make out her face. She was evil, he could see it. This is how he imagined Voldemort. This was it, he believed this is similar to what Voldemort's victims would have felt back in the day. He wasn't sure if this was survivable, the knocks to his head were getting extremely painful.
Oliver had paramount endurance however. He could take hits a lot harder and longer than most, most kids punches didn't even hurt anymore. If he was a typical kid his age, he'd probably be out by now. He held on strong however, yelping at each hit but staying sat up. The headbutt only got him unconscious earlier as he was completely unprepared.

Oliver lowered an arm to search for his wand again. He needed to incendio this girl. He needed to light her up and finish her off. It was survival of the fittest at this point and he'd do what he had to. He spotted his wand to his right, lodged on top of a toy Auror doll toy. As he extended his stubby arm for it, a collection of knuckles landed square on his nose. He could instantly feel the gushing blood as his body was knocked all the way leaning to the other side. His eyes teared up from the pain pulsating through his face at this point. His breathing grew extremely heavy as he could barely think. His arms rose to defend his face but his biceps had gone limp from the pain and confusion.

Everything grew silent for a moment for Oliver. His eyes rolled and his vision dimmed to black. His body started lowering weakly to the floor.

And then he saw it.

Oliver found himself in a black expanse. It was empty, the floor was a black, fogged glass, reflecting Oliver beneath him. Oliver turned and met himself. Before Oliver stood another Oliver. The same amount of chub, the same height and the same goofy clothes. Yet this Oliver had darker eyes and a wicked demeanor. There was something deeply cold about him. Oliver looked at himself with a gasp. The dark Oliver sneered and placed his hands together in a gun formation, then aimed it upwards, then as a sinister grin grew, he nodded to Oliver.
Oliver took a step back in fear from this boy, however something about this inner persona made sense to him. His eyes widened as he realised what he was understanding.

Oliver's eyes shot open before his body hit the floor. He pushed through Erin's hits and slapped his hands together with only his index fingers pointed out, the rest folded in. With a roar, Oliver launched his hands upwards, delivering a spear poke. The accuracy was easy, he was in decent range. Oliver stabbed his fingers with ill intent towards Erin's tooter.

The most inglorious falcon kick to have ever been performed. The powerful human projectile festooned in god awful, ill-fitting attire best left to the muggle malls attempted to kick Oliver in the chest with her bare foot. The kick was lower than expected, she did not have a running start. The balls of her foot would make contact with this soft, pliable, putty-like surface. The ripple effect like a seismic incident as the gelatin-gut wobbled and grabbed hold of her foot. The moist, despite a layer of cloth between her flesh and his rolls, layers of Oliver would seemingly swallow and gain hold of her foot and ankle. As the locomotive force of her kick launched Oliver back, Erin's foot would be dragged along with Oliver's flying body.

Erin would shriek with surprise although if later questioned she would deny the incident ever happened. As if someone had her by the ankle and had flung her like a ragdoll she would find herself several feet from where she started. The impact of her foot or the floor, perhaps both had unsettled Oliver's gastric contents and a mighty reverberation from deep within the Ravenclaw's bowels would vibrate beneath the girl. There was no horn to toot this time, this was one of those insidious, deadly gaseous attacks. Oliver must have been part skunk in a previous life, his greatest defense mechanism was on par with a biological attack. It was like a rotted egg and aged vegetables had a child that should have been aborted.

Erin would cough and gag. There was nothing in her stomach to bring up but her body tried as it revolted against her. This incredibly foul stench seemed to permeate the very air here. She tried to take a deep breath and hold it, that being a mistake because there was no breathing deeply here and she started to hack and cough.  

Why did he have to be so gross!

She slapped through his pudgy hands that depended his face. "Make me cry will you!" Her other hand came down, this one in a balled up fist. Oliver's attempts to defend himself caused the girl to rock from the position that she was in. The last place she had planned to be was in Oliver's bedroom straddling the Ravenclaw. Her thighs would attempt to squeeze and maintain some sort of stable hold on his midsection. Erin was incredibly strong, too strong for it to be natural yet Oliver was able to take a lot of abuse. The very adipose that surrounded every organ and bone, a powerful shock absorber. While her fists did some damage, the damage done was not nearly the harm the girl was physically capable of.

She wobbled on top of him, it was like trying to straddle a thrashing water balloon. She slapped his thick arms out of the way as he tried to defend himself. "Why do you have to be so gross!" Thwap! "Why do you have to be so weird!" Her aim not the best, her seat in constant flux. Her vision was red. 

Why was she so mad? She was frustrated with Oliver. He was different, he made her feel uncomfortable. There was something about the moist, rotund, smelly boy that offended her. It was more than his physical attributes, it was his strange juvenile personality -- the toys, the presumption of lust, the eye-searing choice of attire. Things that truly did not matter, but to a teen perhaps they did. Oliver just would not fucking go down. Her arms were getting tired, her fists were getting sore. Anyone else would have gone down by now but Oliver was like one of those Bozo bags [Link to Image], knock him down and he just came back up a moment later. She was still coughing, dry-heaving even in fact in response to Oliver's biological attack [the fart cloud of doom]. 

Erin, while significantly fitter than Oliver, was at a distinct disadvantage against Oliver. Oliver was bigger than her. Erin weighed what his... well, maybe his legs or even leg weighed. With the sudden movement of her perch, Erin was knocked backwards. It was then that Oliver struck. 




It took the author a bit of thought as to why the writer of Oliver was concerned that the strike might miss as that was the one thing that he did not want, however this author had not even pondered that. Indeed, the strike did not miss. Where it hit was bad enough. Some places should not be poked. This was the true essence thousand years of pain. Erin jumped comically back, yelping as she did so. 

That was one way to stop an altercation. Her uh 'tooter' as he put it was now sore, despite her efforts to become stronger there were not many means to strengthen that particular area. Erin put her hand back there, dang-it that hurt. Just punch her in her rock-hard head like a normal person! "Why can't you be normal!" She shouted in complaint as she rubbed her butt with her hand. 

She glowered at him as she tried to get some distance between her ass and Oliver. She almost farted as he breached a newly discovered no-go zone. Girls don't fart... or poop. "What's wrong with you!" The clearly frustrated, perhaps cracked youth cried. 

Of course Oliver was in a worse state than her, a bloodied face and nose, a smattering of bruises. Comparatively Erin was unharmed, at least physically. Just disgraced. She let out a huff of air. "I'm done," she announced with raised hands, palms facing Oliver. "Just stop... being you," she frowned.

Oliver tiredly grabbed his wand and bum crawled his way to the wall, backing up against it. As he moved back, he swiped his hand before his face, as though wiping sweat. However, he was sneakily sniffing his index finger, the Erin finger. To little luck, his nose was full of blood and sniffing caused a pain to shoot through his nasal cavity. Oliver softly cried out at the sight of blood on his hand now and wiped it on his shirt. He looked up at Erin, unamused. He could probably mess her up like she just did him. He could see it. Make her levitate to his ceiling, flipendo her face as she dropped. Maybe sit on her and threaten to incendio her hair. Although he was pretty beat and would struggle to even get up, the thought was a nice one. Yet Oliver couldn't do it. He couldn't put up a good fight even at this point.

He thought back to what he just experienced. The poke tactic, its origin. Something unsettling lingered inside of Oliver, he felt it now for the first time. As his mind ran through the introduction, memories of his mother flashed through his thoughts. Ones of newspapers with her azkaban mug photo on it, images of her screaming horrible things about muggles. Seeing the crimes she had performed written by the Ministry's court dealings. It all seemed to lurk out as Oliver thought of his dark experience. And so the boy shut his eyes tight and gave his head a small shake to shut away the parasitic thoughts.

He raised his wand at Erin but rested it lazily on his pulled-up knee. This was what made Oliver hate Hogwarts. This right here in his bedroom. The fear, the pain, the unexplainable sudden attacks. Oliver didn't have the architecture to understand Erin's drive to hate him so much. He knew he was a dork but he couldn't grasp what gave her so much motivation to deal with him. He just wanted her to stop and if he had to poke her butt a million times again he'd more than gladly do it.
He yearned for a student life without the nightmares of Erin always crawling around him. She knew where he lived now too so he wouldn't even feel safe in his bedroom anymore.

"Erin, can we... cut a deal? Or something...?"

He grew quiet at the end. Oliver never had an equal level conversation with Erin before. The idea of doing so completely astounded him. And approaching her in converse as though he had some ground to stand on was difficult for Oliver. He looked at her square in the eye though, brows furrowed and lower lip tucked up. His wand pointed at her but it was obvious he'd only use it if she charged him. Some hair fell on his brow and he blew it off with his mouth, trying to hold a serious and genuine presentation.

The stench in the room had somewhat ceased.

Her ass was now sore. A new issue for Erin. 

Erin would not see the stealthy sniff. Had she... she might have died right then and there. 

She had nothing specifically against Oliver, he was just a lightning rod for her ire and wrath. There was some idle want for entertainment, as there was with many bullies. This desire to exert dominance was also a knee-jerk reaction for the girl, this need to get a rise from others and this want to fill the abyss with something even if that something is anger and pain. But there was also something vexing about the youth, it had nothing to do with his dark ties although perhaps that was why he had such a repulsive nature - to drive others away. Erin was a creature of passion, even if her ability to feel was skewed in a terrible way, she did not think before she acted and she reacted on instinct. 

Tired, feeling incredibly filthy and somewhat embarrassed, the fight had left Erin. She had too much pride to admit it of course. 

"Erin, can we... cut a deal? Or something...?"

"A deal?" She repeated. "Yeah, sure," Erin ceded as her eyes traveled from Oliver's pudgy yet determined expression towards the wand in his meaty grip. "Mind lowering your weapon?" She nodded towards his ash wood implement that was pointed towards her. "Or is this one of those deals that is made with weapons drawn?" She peeled herself away from the wall, choosing to make careful, controlled movements that would appear as non-threatening as possible. "I could keep fighting you all day," she lied. Merlin was she full of shit.

"Or..." Yes, there was an or. 

"You can stop being weird so I can stop wanting to punch you," she complained. She was not relaxing, she was waiting for Oliver to give any indication that he was going to cast a spell or do something weird. Oliver had one uncanny skill, at the end of an altercation with him while Erin was often 'victorious' it was in reality a Pyrrhic victory - one where she felt more offended, strangely moist and somehow ashamed. [Edit: None of which having a sexual connotation, you perverts.] 

"And answer the question I had for you yonks ago," she sighed. Before he pissed her off asking her if she had a thing for him. "Why are you like this?" She pointed at the toys on the floor. It was not as if a kid becomes a teen and all their toys disappear, unless one is Erin and there was never any toys in the first place. Yet, there is a facade. Hasn't he ever heard the adage fake it until you make it? "Fat and smelly, dorky? You are a blue jacket so I know you cannot possibly be this dumb? Why the fuck do you always try to piss me off?" Yes, Erin believed that Oliver was doing this, all of this, on purpose to annoy the crap out of not only her but potentially other people as well. 

This is what a real talk apparently looks like. She was blunt, not one to sugar coat. "Why are you like this?"