Oliver sat on his bedroom floor, playing with a large, wooden dragon and a small, figurine on a broom. It wore a Quidditch uniform but for this play session, it was a dragon hunter. The two whizzed around the room, the dragon roaring fire down on the flyer whilst the wizard retaliated with casting blasting spells and conjuring binding ropes. He ran around the room, swiftly moving the pair and laughing to his own witty comments the broom flyer was making. He made the dragon's bellows too, all the sounds involved in a dragon fight came yelling and spluttering from Oliver's mouth.
Oliver was getting a bit old for toys, he was now a teenager and was always the biggest kid in the aisles when buying for himself. He knew he had to let it go but at the same time it was the main source of his entertainment for the summer. He spent his entire days alone in his room.
Oliver's room was mundane in appearance besides the toys, a brown bed with dark green sheets. A huge, dark oak wardrobe faced the end of his bed and a chest of toys sat under his window. A few shelves contained his school books and a few child's bed time stories he had when he was younger but besides that, it was pretty empty. This was really the theme for Oliver's entire house. It lacked any personality to it at all. It was dim and soulless completely, most notably there was only one picture on walls throughout the entire house. Over the fireplace in the living room was a large portrait of Oliver's mother when she was young. It sat still but watched those who entered the room and made subtle faces whenever it felt judgmental on conversation.
Oliver's house was terraced street house. It was reasonably large with a long and narrow build. Downstairs had a kitchen with a dining table on the east side. Facing the dining table was the double door and often open entrance to the living room. On the second floor was Oliver's room and also a spare room often for the nurse. On the third and final floor was Oliver's parent's room and also Oliver's fathers office. The front of the house was connected to the street and the back of the house was a long garden that had fences dividing it from the neighboring wizard's gardens. These streets were hidden with magic and no Muggles could ever find them to enter. It was a small, but one of many, wizard only communities around London.

"Oliver! They're going to be here soon, come on down!" A voice called from downstairs.
Oliver placed his toys with the others on the center of his floor and hurried out of his room. He wasn't excited for the social gathering, it made him anxious. What he was excited for was the food! His father was a real master in the kitchen and today he was cooking for a crowd. Oliver pounded down the staircase and swung on the end rail post. His slow run eventually got him to the kitchen where his father stood before floating pans, pots, spoons, knives and chopping boards, all whizzing around wildly but in perfect synchronized form.
"Oliver, get the forks and knives and put them in a basket for the table outside, thanks," Oliver's father told with a quick glance over his shoulder. He was a big man, strongly over six foot with a wide build. He was as plump as he was muscular, giving him a respectable stature, too old and busy to retain his strongman-esque shape. He was a strict father but at the same time would take a friendly approach as much as he could. He was somewhat reserved but could put on an open armed personality for people such as guests. Oliver's relationship with his father was stable but somewhat empty. Often times on weekends when he'd been promised a trip to the Wizard Zoo or to practice Quidditch together, he'd come downstairs ready and prepared to find his father sleeping in the living room with Oliver's mother, holding hands.
Oliver took the cutlery and dropped it into a napkin lined basket, walking out proudly with his chore. He looked in at his mother as he passed to go outside. She sat on her tall armchair, still and staring. Her eyes were drifted off elsewhere, never showing presence. She had a nurse by her side who spent her time drinking tea and reading wizard fashion magazines usually. Oliver's mother required full time care, immobile and in whole completely empty. Several years in Azkaban had twisted her completely, she was a murderer under the command of Voldemort however, and to get a nurse to even do day shifts with her took enormous pay alone, weekly rotational nursing however required a heavy amount of Oliver's father's earnings. Although she hadn't spoken since she had returned, Oliver's father still latched onto his love for his wife and worked hard endlessly just to keep her by his side.

Oliver placed the basket down on the center of the table, a little smile bore the weight of his chubby cheeks as he looked at the layout of today's feast's table. It was a large, outdoor, wooden tablet with pastel green cloth draped over. It was the only bright color to feature in the browns and greys of Oliver's home. Outdoor chairs were placed around the table and napkins, bread baskets, glasses and drinks were already set.
The weather was especially warm for England. Sun beamed down on their garden just standing in the heat alone was bringing sweat to Oliver, rising through his clothes. Oliver's outfit today was a blue Hawaiian style shirt and cream shorts with white, canvas shoes. He looked goofy but to Oliver, he felt really cool.

There was a loud knock on the door and Oliver already began hurrying before his father could tell him to get the door. Pacing through the corridor, Oliver briefly checked himself in the mirror and gave himself a cheeky wink before opening the door.
"OLIVER!" a voice beamed.
"Welcome, mister and misses Omphrey!" Oliver beamed with a respectful nod.
"Good to see ya, son, really like the shirt!" The male of the couple put forward a hand as his wife entered. Oliver took the hand to shake and was met with the firmest grip he had ever shook.
"Oh, how you've grown, last time I had seen you, you were this high!" Mrs Omphrey exclaimed, leaning down to gesture how short Oliver was, which by the height was correctly five years ago.
"My father's this way!" Oliver smiled to them, wanting to be out of conversation with the two as quickly as possible. Mr Omphrey tended to try connect every sentence Oliver made to some weird journey of Oliver's on becoming a man, whilst Mrs Omphrey often made Oliver out to be the cutesy, chubby boy that he was.
The Omphrey couple were led into the kitchen where Oliver's father gave a handshake and shared a faire la bise with the wife. Mrs Omphrey stepped forward to the entrance of the living room.
"Good to see you, Naomi!" Mrs Omphrey called in with a pleasant grin. Of course Oliver's mother didn't even turn, she couldn't. There was the smallest of pauses in Oliver's fathers speech as this occurred, then continued speaking.
"Where's the little one? Shelley, she's three now, right?" Mr Hart asked, cooking as he spoke but turning often.
"Oh, we left her with the babysitter," Mr Omphrey told.
"Yeah, Clara, our niece. She's in Hogwarts now actually. Oliver, do you know Clara? She'd be a first year," Mrs Omphrey turned to Oliver.
Oliver stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching his father converse happily. The question caught him off guard however. "Uh, no, I don't think I do, don't see first years often," Oliver grew sweaty just from the gazes of the Omphreys.
There was a knock on the door once again.
"Ah that'd be the Ryans! Oliver, could you get that?" Oliver's father told Oliver, taking out plates as the food was just about ready to serve.
Oliver nodded with a smile and begun walking towards the door. With every step, his brain grew heavier with thoughts.
The Ryans?
They're Slytherin's too... all dad's old friends are...
But it couldn't be...
It can't be!
Oliver opened the door and his eyes shot open wide, there was a long pause before he stiffly opened his arm as a gesture for the family to enter.

Erin was home on holiday. Home being Aylesbury, Ireland not West London however father insisted that they make time for 'old friends.' She did not mind the dreadfully dull parties or the journey with a bit of floo powder. What she minded was the fact that she had other endeavors planned for this evening. She had planned on traveling to in muggle Manchester to have a little meeting with that mongrel Howard but she would have to defer her plans to satisfy her father's interests once again. 

Her brother was, as he often was, capable of finding a reason adequate to be excused. Of course he had, which left her to be charming, endearing and of course entertaining. She was practiced, she knew what face to don. Seen more as the darling eldest child of her father than the terror her peers at Hogwarts had come to recognize. She dressed well, the only sign of 'rebellion' being her purple tresses that were pulled back from her face less a few wispy, unruly strands which framed her face into a braid. She dressed conservatively in a high-necked, short-sleeved dress that ended just below her knee.

They were running late, it was hardly a surprise. Her father had his vanity and it required more than a clean  suit and a trimmed mustache. Much of her father's public image was a facade, one such truth would be the woman that would escort her father to this gathering. Her father's alleged 'wife' Muriel Ryan. They were never married, in fact they never even had a relationship. Her father, for all intents and purposes, was Muriel's 'beard.' Muriel liked women exclusively, however being a pure-blood came with certain expectations, among them being to propagate her bloodline. I duty at least in lip-service that she passed onto Erin and her brother Geoffrey in one of those -- do as I say, not as I do sort of speeches. They, Muriel and Warren that is, were good friends and to the casual observer they looked very much like they were in love. In fact, her father was in love with Muriel but it would never be requited. A story for another day perhaps.

Erin would ascend the steps before her 'parents' who were locked arm in arm laughing over some absurdity and knock on the door. Did she know that they were at the Hart residence? Yes. Did she know that this was the domicile of a one Oliver Hart? Yes. It was among the grocery list of reasons why she was not interested in attending this soiree. The boy was simply queer, less in every way than what a pure-blood should be. It made her want to hurt him. It was compulsory at this point.

She knew how to handle the weirdo.

When the heavy door opened and the stout, moist, garishly garbed, rotund youth made his presence apparent Erin feigned shock. A hand to her mouth, she made an exaggerated gasp. "Mom... Dad?" She announced loud enough that some of the guests inside would certainly hear. "I-I don't like this place," she stammered. "Oliver is that boy. That boy that picked on me in Hogwarts this past year," she complained as she pointed an accusatory finger in Oliver's direction. The boy already out of their means of ingress.

Warren and Muriel knew Erin well enough to know three things. 

One -- Erin lies. Don't trust what she has to say.
Two -- It is highly unlikely that anyone has successfully bullied the girl in her life.
Three -- If someone has successfully performed number two, the girl likely did something to deserve it.

Truthfully, Erin had been the victim of a number of injuries, none of which her 'parents' were aware of beyond the statement sent to them by the school that injuries occurred, bones were broken secondary to varied altercations that they never did more than a cursory skim of and that all was presently well with their daughter. Oliver, was not the cause of any of those injuries. Howard White was the boy that hit back and he hit back hard. Was it that her parents were cruel, no. They were simply indifferent, almost but not quite negligent in that regard one could guess.

"Then I suppose you will have to..." her father eyed Oliver. His chubby hands did not seem capable of making an adequate fist and if he did achieve such a form it was likely to be pillowy soft. "Find a means of holding your own against this... fine physical specimen." There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he removed the glowering expression he had donned with Erin's dramatic outburst and looked over at his 'wife' Muriel. "Are you ready my dear?"

The duo walked past Erin who, like a vampire that needs to be invited in stood at the threshold of the homestead for several seconds as if an unseen or unknown force had prevented her entry. She stuck her tongue out to their backs before she confidently strode in behind her parents. She would stop once inside, let her parents wander off and mingle with the other guests, seemingly all or at the very least most of them alumni from House Slytherin. "Pff -- whats up nerd?"

"Mom... Dad? I-I don't like this place, Oliver is that boy. That boy that picked on me in Hogwarts this past year.

Oliver grew red in a second and beads of sweat formed on his hairline. His eyes darted between Erin to her had, back to Erin and then back to her dad. He completely froze up and to make matters worse, his pastry breakfast was beginning to come back up. Before Oliver could prepare, he vomited. However! His entire life depended on this, he could absolutely not humiliate himself and his parents. He could let himself down, he had no reputation to lose, but never his parents. Especially his father. Oliver slightly winced as he kept his mouth shut and swallowed down in one huge gulp, sending back his breakfast just after it filled his mouth.

"Find a means of holding your own against this... fine physical specimen."

Oliver smiled a small chubby smile and tilted his face as though flattered. Which he was. He completely missed the sarcasm and took it is a compliment entirely. He glanced down at his blue with red detail Hawaiian shirt and mentally thanked himself for the great choice. It was the shirt, surely. It had to be the shirt.
As Erin's begun walking away, the fear that had once took over his body consumed him once again. He looked at Erin with raised brows. She was good looking to a boy Oliver's age, yes, but Oliver couldn't see that. He saw only weapons tangling from the girl's torso and a maw that only barked the most sinister of words on her face. He had nightmares of Erin very often. At least once a week. The image of her with clenched fists, furrowed brows and the readiness to kill came to Oliver in his sleep.

"Pff -- whats up nerd?"

"I-you-may-uh... t-there-," Oliver stuttered and choked up on his words. His stomach was growing heavier and he had to take a step back. He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Erin's, which was beginning to get a bit weird by now. He opened his mouth when he heard his call.
"Young Miss Ryan! Oliver! Food's outside!"
Oliver slowly raised his small, sausage finger towards the sound of his fathers voice. His hand was shaking, the boy was completely frightened. He closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath, then returned to Erin, pushing himself to engage with his worst fear.
"Let's get food," Oliver told, then quickly turned and began walking with rapid short steps with arms held tightly to his sides. He was scared of extending his limbs too far that Erin might snatch them up.

If Erin followed, she would see most of the lower floor in all of its mundane appearance. As Oliver would move through the corridor, he'd point at the door underneath the stairs but continue to walk. He'd attempt to say "toilet" but his voice would be too quiet and it'd come out as a whisper. When he'd notice he failed to say the word at a normal volume, he'd pull his hand away as if he never gestured towards it. The corridor leading to the kitchen had a creamy brown paint and the only thing on the walls were coats, hanging by the entrance. No paintings nor photos were placed up.
They'd enter the kitchen which had a dining table on the far side. The adults would have now moved on to the outside table with a feast of food and drink. The kitchen was pretty typical in design and messy after all the cooking Oliver's father had just pulled off. As Oliver would lead through the kitchen, he'd point into the living room, which had the double doors opened up. The curtains were pulled over in the room, making it quite dim. His hand would point towards the lady on the armchair.
"That's mum," he'd tell quietly, barely slowing his walk. Inside the living room sat his mother, she was completely still and her eyes didn't turn towards them. In whole, she was a corpse resemblance of the woman she once was. She was dressed nicely but kept out of the occasion. By her was a nurse, who was eating from a plate of food she must have just received a moment ago, she read a magazine as she ate. The nurse wore a white t-shirt and white trousers, not a uniform but definitely a dress code.

Oliver would take in a deep inhale as they'd get outside. He'd feel he was doing okay, he didn't stumble on the way and managed to point out one and a half things of significance as well. The table sat in the center of the garden and had multiple bowls of food from one end to the other. Roast chicken, fresh salads, many types of meat on skewers, Oliver's father was a real chef and pulled off a great meal.
Oliver's father sat at the top with each couple sitting each side of him. Oliver took a seat beside Mrs Omphrey, leaving the remaining seat opposite to him for Erin, who would sit beside one of her two guardians. He took a burger before anything else and nervously looked at Erin before taking a bite, chewing rather quickly.
Among the chatter between the adults, Oliver's father could be heard asking Erin's name before cutting in through some laughter.
"Erin, if there's anything you need, a drink or anything at all, ask Oliver, he'll get it for you," Oliver's father would call down to her," right, Oliver?"
"Yes, dad!" Oliver would nod after a quick swallow with a serious tone, too nervous among all the eyeballs to smile or do anything besides eat his burger. He'd look at Erin once again, then took the jug of water, showing a gesture to ask if she wanted him to fill her glass. The only other drinks on the table were wine and beer. If Erin would catch the offer and confirm she wanted some, Oliver would pour Ryan's glass but with shaky hand and slightly spill towards the end, then fill his own. If she didn't want him to pour, he would put the jug back down and not pour himself any.

(The Omphrey's can be used by you if needed, their character isn't really of importance, they're pretty default though.)

'Mother' and father never believed her. They were not wrong, she usually lied. Socialites, they left Erin with her 'playmate.' They knew that they were leaving poor Oliver in mortal peril with Erin, that was just not their problem. The chatter of guests mingling, glasses clinking and polite chortles occasionally punctuated with a more raucous laughter. 

Erin had nothing better to do besides follow her rotund host. He was following the promise of food. He pointed at a random door that led to who knows where. Past a kitchen. Past a living room with some catatonic lady and her caregiver, one of them being Oliver's 'mum' but she did not ask which one. She did however curiously pop her head in the room and try to get a better look before she skedaddled along. A future playmate maybe.

Erin would take a seat. These gatherings were always awkward. Food was there was a distraction, an excuse to look like and feel like you belonged. Oddly enough most of the people gathered here felt at ease, she could tell by their body language even if there were decades of secrets, alliances, friendships and betrayals between them, they felt like they belonged in this place. It was odd, enviable really. Oliver did not belong, but he really did not belong anywhere did he? Erin was out of place as well, but the difference between the two of them was she did not belong with people, she was meant to rule them. It was a lonesome place at the top, allies would prove to be a nuisance at best, an albatross or an opportunity to be betrayed at worst. 

"Erin Ryan, the eldest sir." Erin replied when asked her name. Be polite. Please. Thank you. Smile. Sir and Madam. Shake and repeat. The gathering would be over soon enough, she knew how to make nice and end an engagement on a positive note but that did not mean that she could not have her fun. "I go to school with your son," she added. She was going to give some embarrassing (probably untrue) story about how she often finds Oliver in the bathroom eating chocolate frogs and how he brought one to the graduation dance as a date. Usual Erin-style banter. 

Then Oliver's father made Erin an offer she could not refuse. 

"Erin, if there's anything you need, a drink or anything at all, ask Oliver, he'll get it for you, right Oliver?"

"Yes, dad!"

Oliver chimed in. Erin's eyes lit up. That sounds like a good time. "Anything?" She confirmed. That sounded like a swell deal for her. She pointed at a skewer. "I want one of those," she announced. "No, not that one. Or that one. No I want one that has no meat on it." Was there even a meatless skewer? Probably not, that was why she wanted one. 

Oliver offered her some water. Water was boring and not what he offered. She probably would have wanted the water had he offered her everything else, a patter he would likely ultimately catch onto the pattern. "I want a cup" not a glass "of that," she pointed at the wine. She would not know, nor would she care that it was water. If she actually got a glass of wine or beer, anything but the clear stuff he originally offered, she would have asked for a cup of gravy had that been the one thing not on the list, she would chug the contents of the her cup.

"What is there to do here that is fun?" She complained.

Oliver begun to raise sweat drops as soon as Erin started getting excited. He looked up at her, his face behind his half eaten burger. He was already losing his appetite as he foresaw exactly how her behaviour was going to turn. He looked at his burger and took a large bite. He needed one last moment of enjoyment from this day before it was going to turn completely, unrepairably crap.

"I want one of those. No, not that one. Or that one. No I want one that has no meat on it."

Oliver looked at the skewers. They had very little vegetable on them amongst all the meat, each skewer was a ratio of 70:30 meat. With a lengthy scan, Oliver reassured himself that there was zero non-meat skewers.

Oliver reached over and took two skewers. He begun disassembling the two, dragging off the contents and placing it all on his empty side plate. He then recuperated all of the vegetable chunks out of two skewers and slid them onto one. To further add to the skewer, he added some fresh, non-fried vegetables from the salad bowl onto the top. Oliver was gross, but he wasn't rude. He used a fresh fork to do all the work, not once touching his slippery hands off Erin's food. His tongue hung from his mouth, pointed upwards as he focused and he made a grin as he crafted a vegetarian skewer, placing it gently on Erin's plate. He was unsure if Erin would even eat it, he figured she'd only eat meat. He was actually quite sure the girl was a carnivore, it'd be strange if otherwise. He gave a sigh and picked up his burger.

Only to put it back down a moment later.

"I want a cup of that."

Oliver eyed the wine. He would pour her wine, he wasn't her babysitter, but he knew better. If someone asked him why he was giving Erin wine, he knew she'd pretend she had asked for juice and he'd look like a fool. Erin always manipulating and humiliating, he could never relax around her. Oliver's butt cheeks clenched as he thought.
He grabbed the jug of juice and a cup beside the coffee pot. Before Erin, he'd pour her some wild berry juice, focusing with great strength on a steady hand to stream the liquid. This actually happened before in a potions exam, Erin had gotten close to Oliver while he was pouring the mixture. She was simply passing his desk. In fear, his agitation caused him to spill the contents. It was right at the end too, he failed that exam and Erin hadn't even look at him.

Oliver smiled proudly once again, placing down the jug. He simply passed off as though he misinterpreted the angle of her pointing and she had selected the juice instead. Oliver in his professional bully victim experience had learned how to play dumb when he needed to. Playing dumb spoiled insults and schemes, it was a strong defense mechanism for minor bullying attempts.

"What is there to do here that is fun?"

Oliver had his hands on his burger but didn't even get to picking it up. Without thinking he replied.
"Uh, I usually just play with toys in my room." There was a pause. Oliver's eyes widened and then he swiped the air multiple times as if erasing the words he just uttered.
"Actually that's boring, forget that, boring boring... Yeah... There's a park close by, for... walking? Maybe, uh... we can playing Wizard Chess? You're probably not into that..." Oliver relaxed as he had moved past him playing with toys. Oh wait! His eyes widened again and this time his mouth partially opened. Had he just called her dumb by assuming she's not into chess? "Or maybe you are? I don't know, you'd probably kick my hiney in it, I'm not great at it," Oliver quickly spoke. He was actually pretty strong in chess, he could best most who challenged him, some were up to two years older too. His reply also reminded him of all the physical abuse his guest had given him. His butt and it's extension still slightly ached from the humongous wedgie Erin had delivered him not so long ago. He winced at the thought.

Oliver was right, Erin was primarily carnivorous. That said, she almost always chose the path of greatest resistance. As vegetables lacked, that was the only thing she wanted and it was only partly a conscious decision. Yes, the little girl is sick. She did not even want the strange mish-mash of vegetables on a skewer, but this was her victory-kabob and she would savor it.

She did not get any wine. The juice tasted better but it was not victory juice. It was disappointment extract. Oliver saw that obvious game a mile away of course, ruining her fun in the process. What other forms of recreation were there in a civilized gathering such as this? Society was held together by ritualism and the people that played their parts hardly ever realized that they were reading a script. She glowered at Oliver for thwarting her, letting him relish his minor triumph. 

She was bored out of her gourd. What is there to do here that is fun?

"Uh, I usually just play with toys in my room." 

Erin physically face-palmed while Oliver swiped the air. "Seriously?" This guy literally existed to be bullied. 

"Actually that's boring, forget that, boring boring... Yeah... There's a park close by, for... walking? Maybe, uh... we can playing Wizard Chess? You're probably not into that..." 

He was just digging that hole deeper.



Erin clenched her fists. Did he just call her dumb? 

"Or maybe you are? I don't know, you'd probably kick my hiney in it, I'm not great at it." 

"Were you born like this or do you purposefully try to get me to beat yourself up?" Erin hissed. He was just weird. His peculiarities garnered a reaction akin to a spastic motion of her hand in the form of a punch, sometimes repetitively. "Why do you do this to yourself?" Erin scolded him. She let out an irritated sigh. She would attempt to poke Oliver in the stomach, "you're like a balloon filled with jelly" she complained.

"Look around the party," she demanded. It was a basic pure-blood gathering, a bunch of adults reminiscing about the 'good times' and the 'kids' (them). Mischief needed to have a reason, at least it did for her even if her fallible logic was intrinsically flawed. "Why would you want to be less than everyone in the room. Why would you let yourself?" 

Erin was shifting from her mischievous self towards her aggressive self before Oliver. He considered scooting closer to Mrs. Omphrey but that wouldn't help him and it'd be weird. He was trying not to be weird today. He couldn't say for certain how that was going.

"Were you born like this or do you purposefully try to get me to beat yourself up?"

Oliver raised his brows. He didn't fully understand, he'd never met anyone who seemed as though they required a beating. This whole hitting people only on the basis that they were different really didn't click with Oliver. The only reason he'd want to hit someone was to retaliate against such behaviour. Although in his past, he has rarely stuck up for himself directly. The only times he's ever saved himself was from mere coincidences. The best example of this would be the time some kids ran over to spank Oliver's overly large butt. Yet on the first slap, Oliver accidentally tooted on the boys hand, a ferocious one in fact. The group called him names as they hurried away, choking on coughs. The one kid who got a slap in ran for a sink.
"I-uh... I—" he quietly started up but as Erin begun to talk again, he didn't dare try contest her.

"Why do you do this to yourself? You're like a balloon filled with jelly"

Oliver rubbed his tummy after it had been poked, looking down at his Hawaiian shirted torso. He knew he was obese, he was told so many times in school he knew it more than anything. He never really cared for it much though, he didn't like Quidditch or any sport or activity. He liked reading educational books and practicing magic. That was all. The only time his weight got the better of him was when he had to escape yet was too slow or when he wanted to take a walk to the lake. By the time he'd get there, he'd be so atrociously sweaty that he'd be dipping his entire face in the cold lake just to cool down.
Oliver stayed quiet, he was thinking of how to reply. He had to choose his words carefully with Erin. He looked at her in the eyes though as she spoke, holding a stare as he listened to what she had to say. Sometimes he'd question why he listened to Erin at all, but he knew why he ended up doing so every time. He knew exactly why.

"Look around the party. Why would you want to be less than everyone in the room. Why would you let yourself?"

Oliver looked over at the others, his eyes caught onto some of the food that was on the other side of the table.
I didn't know there was pork ribs...
Oliver returned his gaze back to Erin, when she finished her questioning, he looked down at his nearly finished burger. He took his time, a few seconds merely. When he looked back up, his eyes were wet and shiny. There was a large amount of laughter and voices were raising in volume, Oliver felt comfortable talking when the distraction was this high.
"I act like this cause all I want to do is blend in. I'm just... really bad at it, I guess. I don't want to have anything to do with others in school or anywhere, I just want to be ignored and left alone," Oliver leaned forward on the table, becoming more confident as he spoke. "I don't care about you, I don't care that you suck at casting spells, I don't care that behind your back people say you're horrible. I don't want to care cause I don't want to think about you. But why, why do you care so much about me? Why do you have to push me to be different? Do you-" Oliver was beginning to quiver, he clenched his fists and straightened up, pushing confidence into himself. He furrowed his brows and leaned forward more so. "Do you have a thing for me?"

There was a moment of humanity, perhaps pity as Erin expressed a truth that Oliver needed to hear. The boy had a target on his back that he was painting himself -- by being weak, by being weird. He was eliciting a negative response from not just her but from others as well, that was why nobody was holding his hand or standing in his corner when he was picked on. What a difference a few changes in his behavior would do for him considering he had the most important attribute and that could not be bought, sold or bartered and that was his pedigree. There was a legacy in his blood, one that at this rate he would never live up to. 

"I act like this cause all I want to do is blend in. I'm just... really bad at it, I guess. I don't want to have anything to do with others in school or anywhere, I just want to be ignored and left alone." 

Nobody wants to be alone, not really. Everyone wanted to be looked up to. To have someone to talk to, to confide in. Arms to fall into. Lips to kiss. "Bullshit," Erin replied.  Was that why he thrashed about like a fish out of water at the end of year dance? He was, as anyone would be, roused by the approving glances and smiling faces of his peers. He did not want to blend in, he wanted to belong. 

"I don't care about you, I don't care that you suck at casting spells, I don't care that behind your back people say you're horrible. I don't want to care cause I don't want to think about you. But why, why do you care so much about me? Why do you have to push me to be different? Do you" 

Ouch -- that one fuck she had to give was squashed.

"Do you have a thing for me?"

Yeah, that was it. She had a thing for the fat kid with pit stains that liked to play in his bedroom alone. The boy that disrespected himself and his family so much that he allowed himself to be in such a pitiful state. 

Erin would grab the dork by the collar of his shirt and yank him towards her with a single powerful motion. You understand me Erin announced as she drew him in for a forceful kiss. The sort of kiss where you don't breathe but it is not because you are so caught up in the moment but rather because you were being suffocated by the seal of her lips and the depth of her hungry tongue. The moisture, the overwhelming amount of saliva and the taste of a cheeseburger that still lingered hardly a detraction. Her passion for the rotund young wizard was overwhelming. She would attempt to overpower the likely weaker Ravenclaw, bringing him to the ground indifferent to the presence of either of their respective families... 

No, that never happened. 

Erin looked at the Ravenclaw mildly flustered as she grabbed the dork by the collar of his shirt (or tried) and with a single powerful motion attempted to pulled that idiot uncomfortably close to her. "You understand me," Erin announced as she drew him in for a forceful headbutt.

Erin was one to make a scene. One that only people that did not know her would ever believe as she shouted "you weirdo, why did you try to kiss me!" 

Oliver's collar was pulled, he looked at her as his belly was dragged along the table towards Erin. He gave an uncertain smile as his face drew closer to Erin's unable to hold eye contact this close. At first he thought Erin was mad, he did say stuff he'd never say to her. He was pretty sure actually, but as time passed in this awkward hold, a matter of milliseconds really, Oliver begun to think twice. Perhaps Erin was just shy, maybe she was embarrassed to admit her feelings. Oliver had never been in this situation before. Oh boy. Was this what girls having a thing for you was like? Someone having a crush on him was the last thing Oliver ever imaged he'd find this summer. He was beginning to get sweaty rapidly, cheeks growing red as beads of liquid dotted his face and body. This was all too crazy, he hated Erin, he had heard of people deflecting their attraction through negative attention however. Oliver couldn't hold eye contact once again. He glanced to his left and spotted a bowl of potato salad with cubes of bacon mixed through. He smiled as he imagined eating it, his mouth drooling. As he returned his eyes back to Erin, everything became clear. Erin's forehead drove towards his.

"You understand me."

As soon as the contact was made, Oliver slumped, his entire body fell on the table and as it rolled in burger, juice, fries and a few other foods, it leaned off the edge before thudding on the ground. He was unconscious. When his body had landed on the table, the table itself begun to flip upwards. Only had Oliver's father not caught it under his elbow and pushed it back down, saving the rest of the food.
Oliver's body was limp at Erin's feet, his pudgy cheek resting on her shoe.

"You weirdo, why did you try to kiss me!"

"Oh, sweetheart, I don't think he did," Mrs. Omphrey told, standing up, very alert. At this moment, she wasn't very sure why Oliver jumped on the table or was laying in the grass.
"He didn't, did he?" Mr. Hart asked, unable to believe his shy and awkward son would try something like that.
"He's unconscious, John," Mr. Omphrey told, not that much worry in his voice.
"Oh, damn. Rennervate him there, quick," John told, standing up but too far away.
Mr. Omphrey leaned back and lazily waved his wand at the direction of Oliver's body, saying the spell," rennervate."

Oliver was hit by a red light and was kicked back to life. He groaned, picking himself up before his eyes bulged. Just as he was on his knees, he doubled over and begun vomiting like crazy. Cheese burger, fries, chicken, fried vegetables, chocolate, so much chocolate, and the classic carrot cubes. It was all one big, grotesque mixture spewing in liters from Oliver's mouth. By the end, he was crying as the last of it came out. He looked up. Oliver froze, his entire body went cold. Although they were covered in layers of sweat, all the hairs on his back managed to stand up. Within this moment of terror, a squeaky yet squelchy toot left Oliver's backside. It must have been the terror that rushed through him that forced it out. It was the longest toot Oliver had ever pulled off, lasting at least five solid seconds! He couldn't believe what he had just done, his stomach was twisting even further now and if it weren't empty, he'd vomit all over again.
Oliver had just vomited all over Erin's lap.

Whether she was caught off guard enough to stay for all of the vomiting was uncertain, yet the beginning was definitely projectiled towards her.
Oliver considered going back to being unconscious. He didn't want to do anything right now but curl up and die. To make matters worse, he was pretty sure that was more than just a fart. Oliver begun quietly sobbing and he let his limbs go weak, falling to his hands and knees. He begun slowly crawling away from Erin.

There was a pause from the Omphreys and Mr. Hart. Then Mr. Omphrey erupted in laughter, going red and clapping his hands at the sight he just saw. Mrs. Omphrey picked Oliver up by his elbow and onto his feet quickly, pulling him up.
"Oliver, Erin, come on, let's go," she told, taking the motherly role instantly. She also didn't want this dinner party to end so sourly, herself and Mr. Omphrey didn't get out enough for it to go this way. She hurried Oliver over and repeatedly beckoned Erin to come along, going to the entrance to the kitchen.
"You'll need to change your clothes while I clean them. For heavens sake you're both a mess. It's okay, Oliver, stop crying," Mrs. Omphrey was afraid to touch Oliver, going to pat his shoulder but pulling her hand back before it made contact. Oliver was quietly sobbing and sniffling as he looked at his feet.
She stepped into the kitchen and took some conveniently placed clean laundry off a basket. They were Oliver's clothes.
"Oliver, go to your room and put these on, hurry. Erin, you'll have to wear these, I'm sorry," she would say, adding the last bit if Erin had decided to join. She would hand Erin a pair of grey sweatpants and a green t-shirt. On inspecteion, the t-shirt had a print of a gnome. Above it read," Gnome Pun Inteded."
Oliver hurried off up the stairs, not even looking back. Notably, there was no brown stain on his butt.
"There's a bathroom under the stairs you can change in," Mrs. Omphrey would say to Erin.
She would cast the cleaning spell on their clothes but it took a bit of time and they'd still smell afterwards for a bit. Whether they should smell or shouldn't was Mrs. Omphrey's experience with the spell, it was uncertain whether she couldn't just cast it one hundred percent.

The bathroom Erin would find under the stairs was small but had excess room to get changed in.

(Anything said to Oliver, he won't reply or look up. If it's really mean, his sobbing increases for a few seconds.)

Erin's head one; Oliver's head null. 

Of the two, Erin Ryan had the harder head. She did not expect the impact to render the pudgy boy unconscious, just hurt a lot and of course humiliate him. Her head throbbed from the impact, maybe she did strike him harder than she had intended. She looked down at the drooling buffoon, unsure if she was supposed to feel regret or embarrassment. Without Oliver all she had to play with was the toys in his bedroom and his unconscious body, neither were particularly appealing.  

So yeah, she regretted rendering him unconscious -- her only plaything was down broken. She was actually relieved when his parents put humpty back together again. 

Well, she thought she was relieved. She should have been content with boredom, but rather it was a fresh new layer of hell. Oliver was roused by his parent's charm, then came the violent deluge of fluids. All of the fluids. She was not entirely certain what volcanic contents were spewed forth, only that his girth served as a vessel to contain despite its already sizeable dimensions a greater volume than she would have expected his stomach to contain. The TARDIS of stomachs evacuated their contents onto the lawn and onto Erin's lap. How his face got there... how Erin did not avoid contact? Likely the shock. Likely the projectile nature. It just happened so fast. 

Erin let out a shrill scream as she looked down at the slurry of partially digested food -- it did not even smell like food, the pungent acerbic stench filled her nostrils. She felt something burning hot flow up her throat and fill her mouth with putrid contents. The reflexive vomit came out of her mouth like a tap before she could purse her lips and forcibly swallow her own digestive contents, likely on the back of Oliver's head. 

Merlin, help us!

If that was not bad enough, this trumpet-like noise reverberated from Oliver's sizable buttcheeks as he failed to clench. She did not count the duration as Oliver had, she only knew that that flatulent note maintained longer than was human. Erin dry-heaved, that was the most rank stench she had ever smelled. There was just nothing inside of her left to vomit. 

Oliver was crawling away, making weird noises as he had done so.

Erin meanwhile was frozen in sheer, abject horror. There was just so much. It was everywhere. She had no idea where to even start. If it was even safe to move. The old person (her reference to the adults) seemed hardly bothered by the incident, perhaps it was commonplace in this household. Holy crap. She mouthed to herself. Her arms hovering away from her own body as she meekly (for once) followed instruction. She stood up, the vomit slid off her lap and with a loud PLOP landed on the ground by her feet. Erin dry-heaved again, a bit of stomach acid finding its way into her mouth, filling her tongue with that bitter taste before she swallowed.

Everything felt wet and squishy as she waddled, her arms extended away from her as she did what could be best described as a penguin shuffle. She was offered the most hideous outfit in the world. There was no way that this was a pureblood family. They could not lack this much pride! Still, she was desperate to get out of these wet and terrible things. She started to try to peel off the vomit-laced dress on the way to the bathroom, the door hardly closed before she flung it off over her head. Using toilet paper and facet water she tried to scrub off the evidence of her shame. Somehow the vomit had gotten everywhere even her hair as she evacuated herself from the dress. Most of a roll wasted and flushed away she would wear the T-shirt and sweat pants. The novelty T shirt was a few sizes too large, similar could be said about the sweat pants but she put them on. 

She looked down at the ruined dress and her shoes and frowned. 

Gonna make that damn nerd pay. She promised herself as she stuck her head under the faucet and gargled with a mouthful of water to get the barf taste out of her mouth. 

She would eventually emerge from the bathroom, her formerly styled hair now wet and slicked back from her face. Her posture poor, somewhat hunched over as she wore this ridiculous get-up. Her bare feet slapped the floor as she meandered out, her fingers pinching one of the few dry parts on her dress and her shoes as she offered them to old person. "Here..." she muttered.

Once the garments were accepted she would mutter a "polite thank you m'am" before asking where Oliver was so that they might play some more. Getting directions or following her instinct, Erin would dash towards probably Oliver's present location. Once there, or where she thought he might be she would swing the door open without knocking. She did not care what horrors she might see, she was going to kick his nerd ass. 

"Dammit Oliver!"