“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.”

The first indignant splutterings of a man caught unawares, caught without realising he’d been misconstrued only to have to save the situation somewhat, were endearing beyond believe and Alice couldn’t help but smile at him, her lips fluttering a few times as she looked at him over the rim of her glass. She laughed a little, reaching out with her spare hand to touch at his arm as she brought her glass back down to rest against her leg.

“I know, Ollie,” she murmured, rubbing her thumb across his skin before retracting it once more. “I think you’ve got it right. It’s just too bad we can’t all agree about it. Perhaps, if we did, everything would turn out for the best, wouldn’t it?” A sad look crossed her features briefly but she let it go, allowing it to ebb away from her.  

At his words, she tipped her head to the side, listening intently to him, her brows furrowing a little in vague disappointment when he did not seek to embellish his point. She nodded nonetheless and took another sip of her drink before reaching to set it down on the coffee table.

“You don’t have to explain,” she assured him gently. “It’s alright. Some places are best kept secret, aren’t they? If everyone turned up one day all hell bent on experiencing it like you do, it wouldn’t be that special anymore and certainly not in the same way. Keep your place. Maybe another time?”

Upon his suggestion, Alice’s face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. Despite being quick to move in – monumentally quick, in fact – she hadn’t had a chance to look around the neighbourhood which her father would have scolded her for without fail. Somehow she doubted it was a bad area but all the same she didn’t think Ollie or Ariel would be too intimidated by whichever teenage militia called their town home.

“That sounds great!” She exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “I’ll get my shoes. Oh, hold on. Let’s put these plates in the kitchen.”

With a wave of her wand, Alice sent the plates towards the adjoining room, hurrying after them with an excited spring in her step. She cleared off the debris from her plate where she’d neglected the crusts and maintained the warming charms on the other food before putting the plates in the sink, promising herself she’d wash them up for Ollie when they came back.

Alice then sailed out through the living room again and disappeared down the hall to retrieve a pair of sandals from her room. She thought twice, choosing to grab a light, cream coloured cardigan also, and donned that before hopping out, one shoe on and one shoe off, back into the living room, struggling with the straps, her wand between her teeth.

Eventually, by some stroke of luck she managed to get herself in order and after righting her hair she stood to attention, far more excited about going out than Eric looked, and waited patiently for Ollie to get his bum in gear. On that note … no Alice, she thought furiously to herself.

“Don’t look sad, puppy,” Alice encouraged Eric, squatting down to scratch between his ears. Having taken his lead off of the hook by the door she clipped it carefully onto his collar and smiled at him. A walk to the shops and back was easily going to be the most exciting portion of the day – outside of moving into a stranger’s house and watching a move with the said stranger. They were all highly exciting things but came a good second and third to going to the shops. We must question here who the canine is – the one totally disinterested in the idea of going out, having been content in his chair, or the one bouncing as though she desperately, desperately needs a wee. It’s excitement, honest.

“Can we buy some chocolate?” She asked, passing the handle of the lead eagerly between her palms.

Alice didn't understand. Of course not. But how could she when Oliver hadn't told her even a little bit about 'his place.' It wasn't even close to being his, and while he had stepped foot on that ground a few times, it was never inviting him in and he could never return without the memory of his failure. So yes, Alice had it dead wrong. But Oliver couldn't bring himself to correct her. The place wasn't special. It was Hell.

But it was just one of those things that he wanted so badly but could never have. Especially not now, when it was too late to even consider it. It was only Hell because it was not available. It was only Hell because Oliver would never manage to get there.

His plans of sailing were rightly shot, but at least he wouldn't feel so confined as he suddenly did in his flat. Usually it was decently quiet, with one or the other of the boys busy or out doing Merlin knows what. It struck him as Alice bounced up to get ready, alerting him to the fact that nothing was going to be the same again. Not so long as Alice was around. It didn't feel too negative, though, the bout of change. More... interesting, he supposed. It would definitely lead to his being more active outside of his usual plans, if nothing else.

Standing, Oliver slipped his feet into the nearby sneakers before heading into his room to don a shirt - as was appropriate for being seen in public, he reminded himself. Were he on his boat it wouldn't have mattered, but this was definitely not the same. "If you want," he shrugged, helping the fabric over his shoulders as he did.

Oliver opened the door for her, following Alice and Eric into the hall and down to the ground floor where they hung a right to walk towards the market a few blocks off. As expected, several people were walking around the neighborhood, and a good few of them stopped to watch Eric plod around or comment on how fluffy and/or cute he was. Although he was used to it, Oliver found himself smiling in thanks - not for the comments about the dog but rather for the change of topics and scenery and basically just general change that being out and about brought him.

Glancing at Alice now and then, it felt strangely normal to have her there, holding tight to Eric’s leash as they went. He didn’t think about it too much, though, instead pointing to a corner up ahead. “If we hang a right up there we’ve got an outdoor market a little ways down. The shop owners usually can’t stand dogs, but apparently Eric is accepted just fine.”

So within minutes the pair – plus Eric – were wandering through the booths, though Oliver wasn’t sure he intended to buy anything aside from that chocolate Alice wanted. It wasn’t even close to being a hardship, and Oliver knew that regardless of what she said, he wouldn’t be letting her pay for it when she found the sort she was after. He was drawn from his thoughts after mere minutes, though, when one of the booth owners he had come to be on rather good terms with stopped him.

“I’ve never seen you bring a girl here before, Oliver!” She beamed, looking from him to Alice as though the market was the most special place he could ever take someone. Hardly. He had a few other important milestones in mind, but he just offered an awkward smile.

“Um, she’s new to the neighborhood so we’re just having a look around,” he returned vaguely, one hand adjusting the sunglasses he had donned as they left the flat.

“Oh, of course.” The woman nodded, clearly not believing him. Oliver passed her an annoyed glare that was thankfully covered by the shades, before nudging Alice gently between her shoulder blades.

“We should be going. Lots to see.”

Being outside finally put into perspective what a hangover could not. Regardless of the fact that the said hangover had been dealt with early on, it had still gotten Alice Rousseau to do some rather strange things – the principle one being moving in with a perfect stranger, the perfect stranger’s best friend and, of course, lest we forget, a perfect hound, too. Now, whilst none of this was necessary terrible as no one could be friends with her friends and be an axe murderer at the same time, it was quite a strange impulsivity that wasn’t typical of the young Frenchwoman. It almost made her think twice, going outside. It made it all rather real. Not that there was anything scary to find in moving in with a perfect stranger. But still. She wasn’t renowned for being an interesting character, this one. She played life safe. With good reason, too.

Nevertheless, once outside, things were a little bit different. Eric was happy to trot along in front, dictating the pace by pulling Alice along. With her long legs she managed to keep up alright but still struggled in comparison to the two boys – even if one was only a dog. Semantics. The booths were beautiful, though, once they got there. The vendors were selling an array of items that made Alice wish that she was paid earlier in the month. She was paid in the middle, as a rule, but had for a long time slipped into being paid at the end of the month and, knowing that she would have been paid yesterday had her former manner been kept. Nevertheless, she still had a little bit of money – more than enough for chocolate – and, speaking of chocolate, a booth soon caught her eye.

Before Alice could slide off with Eric to indulge herself, however, she found herself drawn into a conversation with one of the vendors. She glanced up at Oliver upon the woman’s words, braced for what his reply would be. She licked her lips, curling her lower between her teeth, and then she threw a smile onto her face. She took her hand out to offer it to the lady but before she could she was nudged along. She managed to find a smile for the woman but Eric took up the gauntlet and dragged her off through the market a little further along. Alice sighed and followed after the dog, giving him a little tug to get him over to the chocolate stall.

“Okay boy,” Alice murmured, reaching down to rub Eric between his ears. “What are we going to get?” She asked him.

“Afternoon, lass,” the vendor greeted, stepping over, “what can I get you?”

Alice looked down, her senses dazzled with the different chocolates on offer. It was all fairtrade, too, the vendor hastened to assure her. There was plain chocolate, dark, milk and white, and then there was chocolate filled to the brim with other things – from classic caramel to spicy chilli. Alice didn’t know where to start first in all honesty and asked gently if she could try some. The vendor was more than happy to oblige and went to break off a few pieces of each bar he had to hand for sampling and he put the pieces in a little basket, handing it over to her.

“Thank you,” she enthused, putting her hand through the loop on Eric’s lead. She took the basket in both hands and turned to Ollie with a bright grin on her lips. She held it out to him. “Pick a piece,” she offered to him, taking out her own.

Friday was back again, almost without announcing itself. But of course, what it brought with it was a further cycle of particulars. As always, everyone returned home somewhat together. Alice walked in a little after twelve o’clock after himself who had entered from town after Oliver had gotten home. After pleasantries and all getting a bite to eat they conversed a little before going their separate ways, Eric getting a walk by Alice going out for a run, Ariel electing to sit and do the cross word while Ollie retreated back to his room to continue writing or screwing up paper, whatever it was that he did.

Unlike the norm, which saw Ariel spend the evening playing with different recipes until Alice came home from this week’s latest failure of a date at which point he would comfort her, get her ice cream and some pyjamas and cuddle away the sadness she felt, Ariel was going out this Friday. For the first time in the long time, he had a date – albeit his date for the evening was unaware that he was going to do what he was going to do. He’d spent the afternoon making meals for a picnic style dinner and had fed his friends the cook’s perk once they’d come in. Thereafter, he was the one fretting and was glad to have a partner in that when Alice returned.

“Does this look alright?” Ariel turned away from the mirror at the exact moment the blonde woman entered his bedroom, the exact same question on her lips.

The pair paused and smiled at each other before standing to look at what they were wearing. Ariel had elected for a shirt and trousers combination which was a classic choice. White shirt, black trousers and a red tie which he was in the midst of tying up. Alice deviated from her tastes about as often as he did. She was wearing another floral dress – this one just as pretty as all of the others she enjoyed wearing – but still managed her insecure, worried look which he couldn’t believe she still wore so resolutely.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Ariel promised, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“You look great too,” she assured him gently. “I could ask you the same, actually. I haven’t seen you go out on a date since I’ve lived here.” Ariel barked a laugh. “Louis. Louis is who the ‘luck guy’ is tonight.”

“Well, I’m taking my lawyer out. Or taking her in. I dunno. She doesn’t have much choice in the matter, ultimately. So, yeah. Hopefully it’ll be alright.” He smiled a little, feeling bashful all of a sudden. “You gonna be alright without me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alice shrugged, pressing her hands across the front of her dress. “It’s fine. This will be a good one, I’m sure of it.”

But it was bound not to be. The world didn’t conspire to bring the blonde witch happiness and even as she left, bouncing down stairs, calling out her goodbyes, Ariel didn’t feel particularly comfortable in knowing that he wouldn’t be around for when she came back. He didn’t know how long he’d be out but even so he didn’t expect to be home when she returned. That realisation, coupled with the anxiety he felt at Alice going out brought Ariel down to Oliver’s room where he’d been hiding out since lunchtime.

Throwing open the door, Ariel leaned against the frame and looked at his friend, eyeing the rolled up bits of paper on the floor. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest, eying the man before him.

“You’re on Alice duty tonight, mate.” He announced briskly. “Cuddles, pyjamas and ice cream. Then let her rant, okay? This prick is going to be just like the rest and I’m not gonna be here so you need to deal with the fallout, ‘right?” Ariel glared at his best friend. “Alright?” He pressed.

---

The front door slammed shut and the clunk of keys being thrown into the dish on the hall table resounded around the apartment. Handbag and shoes were thrown down and an aimless kick against the door followed along with a whine as pain registered through the appendage. Then a sniffle and the general dismay of a night gone awry. It wasn’t that it was bad. Not terrible like the banker from a few weeks back. No, what still got her was the general lack of effort on the part of all of her dates. They’d all had that in common – if nothing else.

Grumbling under her breath, Alice pulled her hair out of the clips she’d put it up in and put them down on the table. She scrunched up her hair in her hands, fluffing it out before letting it fall down her back as she preferred. Then, sighing, finding that Ariel’s presence after a date was more reassuring than she’d felt at the time, she moved into the kitchen, trying to keep the tears of anger and frustration. With shaking hands she flicked on the kettle and opened up one of the cupboards in search of her pot of instant hot chocolate. It came to hand immediately and she stood, waiting, tapping her feet impatiently on the floor, glaring at the kettle.

Garfield might hate Mondays … but Alice? She hated Fridays, too.

Oliver knew about the issues surrounding the last work day of the week. Mind, work days were often confused by the sandy-haired man, as he did not work any specific hours, and did not bother with wondering after what time it was, much less which day of the week. But plans were made regardless, forcing him to keep track. Somehow, all of these plans had started to revolve around Alice. Three nights a week marked movie nights, the other four always possible nominees for the same event. As long as Alice asked, Oliver would say yes. Regardless of the things he needed to get done or how tired he was or how very much he hated the movie in question, Oliver would sit himself down on that couch that suddenly felt much smaller than it had upon purchasing it. Now there just wasn't enough room.

So as Oliver sat on the couch, it meant that any shifting Alice did would almost guarantee that she would end up brushing against him. It would ensure that because the damn woman had yet to purchase proper pajamas, Oliver was left staring at the horrible film to keep from staring at her. His writing had completely been thrown out the window, and his floor was more covered with crumpled paper than it was with air and stray socks combined. He actually appreciated interruptions those days, and looked up almost excitedly, expecting to find Alice in the doorway. But Ariel stood there, looking surprisingly dressed up, and he finally registered what day it was.

Friday.

Fridays equaled a lack of sleep and generally going through hell. And he wasn't just talking about Alice, either. If she wasn't home, he didn't sleep. If she was up talking to Ariel, their voices through the door would keep him up, even if he couldn't make out any words. He did not want to have to find out the truth about whatever it was they discussed. Clearly she was uninterested in sharing her dilemmas with Oliver, so he accepted the fact that he would sit up and read or lay around and wait for them to head off to their respective rooms.

All he could manage before Ariel snapped at him was, "But I don't know-"

He'd wanted to point out that he didn't know the blonde. And in some ways he didn't. Regardless of the fact that it was entirely possible that he spent more time with Alice than the other man, Oliver only believed himself to be aware of the baseline of the woman he lived with. But it was decided; he would be the one who watched out for Alice, because Ariel had made plans and Oliver could not begrudge his oldest and best friend that time off from being the better of her two roommates.

So Oliver just nodded slowly, accepting his fate and watching blandly as Ariel left the room. A long night was ahead of him, even before Alice returned. Of that he was sure.

---

Eric was curled up, sleeping on Oliver's toes. Otherwise he would have stuck his head out the door and trotted down the hall to see who had come through the front of the flat and started moving around in the kitchen. So it was up to Oliver to nudge the dog awake, and to wait for Eric to shake off the sleep. Upon doing so, the little fluff moved out into the rest of the apartment, leaving Oliver behind.

Standing, the man stretched a bit, passed a glare at the paper waiting for him to write something worth.... well, anything, and he started off towards the kitchen. When he got to the hallway though, he found a very tense and put out version of Alice. Luckily, Eric had warned her of their approach, so he wouldn't have to worry about spooking her.

"Um," he started, glancing around the flat as if he would find the furniture in tatters. "Alice?" He gestured to the arm of the couch, where he'd set out her version of pajamas - an overlong shirt and fluffy socks, as he had seen time and again provided by Ariel. "Do I need to talk to anyone for you?"

What, really, could he say besides that? Oliver didn't know what he was doing, anyway. Why hadn't Ariel left him with a bloody "Guide to Fixing Alice" or something? Oliver considered (for all of two seconds) writing himself one. But Merlin help him if she found it and tried to murder him in his sleep. So instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited for her to either start ranting or to just ignore him. He could figure things out from there.

In truth, there was nothing worse than Friday. Hot chocolate was a consolation. The ice cream waiting in the freezer, bought by Ariel on shopping day – Wednesday – was also a way to soothe the frustration of yet another disappointment. It hadn’t always been so acute. Perhaps when living alone she’d been a bit luckier. That wasn’t to say her flatmates were bad luck. Maybe living with two blokes had made her pickier, somehow, or perhaps less intolerant of particularities that she perhaps would have overlooked before. Whatever the reason was, somehow she just couldn’t imagine repeating a date and, as was so often the problem with them, given as chivalry had died, even if she had the problem with herself sorted, she wouldn’t have wanted to date them, either. But perhaps she had unreasonable expectations. Whatever it was, suffice as to say it was a nightmare. Same old Friday.

Somehow, Ariel had taken it upon himself to make things better. At first he’d lingered in the front room because he was playing video games. When she’d walked in, dejected and upset, he’d assumed the role of comforter with surprising empathy and consideration or her feelings. Thereafter, he waited up for her specifically, as much as to make sure she got in alright and scare off anyone thinking they were going to get a goodnight kiss than as to comfort her when it became clear that they were a disappointment – they were all disappointments. It was in light of this that Ariel began to wonder why Alice even bothered, why she didn’t just find someone to get her shags and be done with it. The girl had laughed at him, even through her tears after a particularly bad date one evening when he’d asked. She’d said rather simply, rather wisely, that sex didn’t make up for want of chemistry and friendship.

He had to concede that fact, to be sure, and concede it he did. Yet, there were no friends or true romances to be found from whichever pool of blokes she was sourcing her dates from. There was nothing there to find that was desirable in any way, shape or form. Nevertheless, for her sake he kept at it, and only reluctantly did he leave that Friday but he knew eventually she’d find her friend and romantic partner and eventually she’d not be in need of him. Plus, having threatened to take Avariella out for dinner, he was finally – in a way – making good on that. Ollie could deal. It was only for one night. Alice knew the drill, at least. She could, walk and talk him through it. With a bit of luck, when he got home the three he left behind would all be asleep.

To return to the kitchen, reader, you’ll see the kettle boiling. It rumbled, alerting Alice to its agreeable boiling and she lifted it off, pouring water over the powdered hot chocolate, watching with glassy eyes as it bubbled and frothed up to the rim of the cup. Then she replaced the kettle back on the hook and turned at the sound of Ollie’s voice, involuntarily pressing back against the counter in half fright when she saw him. She hadn’t expected him to come out and see to her – though she supposed he’d been instructed to. The gesture was nice. His words even nicer, prompting a smile to take away the sad expression that was there.

“No, no,” she assured him gently. “You’re alright.”

Eric, who had indeed alerted Alice to their coming out to her, yipped at this and he looked up at her expectantly. She knelt down, scratching him between his ears just as she always did, and stood once more. She sighed a little, rising slowly back to her full height. Even barefoot she stood tall though she supposed it was the dress, in part, that had the effect. The dress, again, was all for nought. She had gotten a compliment – not that she’d wanted one, really she just liked to make the effort and feel dolled up – but ultimately he’d not made the effort, sitting in jeans and a t-shirt which was given the slight air of something a bit proper with a blazer thrown over top but that was let down due to it being ill fitting and it clashed abominably. Given how well-dressed Ariel had been earlier on, she didn’t know where exactly the ability to be presentable had failed in this man.

“Why do I go out on dates, Ollie?” Alice asked, snapping finally, desiring as to talk about it. “It’s awful. This guy. He was a bit of a slob, right? Huge slob, actually. Not to mention a complete tight arse. He suggested that being as I’m a feminist I wouldn’t mind splitting the bill. Oh, charming. Truly, truly charming. Given also as he asked if he could buy me dinner. No, split the bill.”

Alice scoffed and picked up her cup, she wound her hands around it and grumbled to herself, sidling through the kitchen, electing to take to the sofa because at least there the worst and most disagreeable man she’d find would be Eric who, that night, wouldn’t have looked out of place in the restaurant in comparison to her date. The fact that their dog had better manners than someone she’d wanted to get to know over dinner was mortifyingly upsetting. Alice paused a little in the doorway, noticing the socks and the shirt he’d gestured to before. Only now did she take note and she couldn’t help but smile a little.

Moving to the coffee table she sat her cup down, watching Eric as he hopped up into his chair to sit. It was then that she took her t-shirt, finding that it was fresh out of the airing cupboard. She set it down again briefly before reaching up behind herself to unzip her dress. She wiggled a little, slipping out her arms and pushing it down until it was a puddle on the floor. Alice lifted her head, wondering for a second whether the three glasses of wine she’d had did the job to really lower her inhibitions to the point of exhibitionism.

Looking up from herself, Alice turned, her back facing Ollie. Then she realised that the breeze floating across her arse, chilling the pasty pale swell of skin marked on the right hand side in the middle with a dark freckle, was in fact the result of her picking, of all things, a racier set of underwear than perhaps she would have ordinarily and then gone on to change willy-nilly in front of the boys. She supposed they’d become desensitised to her – or, Ariel had given how leery he was by nature – but even she had to admit that the set she had on at that present moment in time did not really inspire any brotherly feelings in anyone, even the dog looked confused.

Colouring, Alice turned so that she was sideways facing in relation to Ollie, hoping that somehow it would mitigate the fact that she hadn’t taken care at all before divesting herself of her clothes. She picked up the t-shirt, eager to avoid exposing herself any more than she had already. Tugging it down over her head she shoved her arms through and reached up to unclip her garter belt. She released it from around her middle and lifted it away, unclipping the stockings from it before dropping the belt onto her dress. She rolled down the stockings and they joined the pile too. Then, pulling the shirt down, she picked up her things and tossed it in the hamper which had been placed in the living room after Ariel’s penchant for leaving socks everywhere was discovered.

“Sorry,” she muttered, dumping herself down onto the sofa. “There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” She despaired at Ollie. “There must be. I’m the only constant in all of these dates. They’re all shocking and I’m the only thing they have in common.”

Alice reached up and rubbed, aggravated, at her neck, wishing she was elsewhere or that her luck was better or something, at least. She sighed and dropped her head against the back of the sofa, closing her eyes a little before remembering she had her hot chocolate. She reached forward, grasping it off of the table before bringing it to her lips. The taste was the most reassuring thing she’d had since getting home that afternoon, next to being able to come home after the dismal date.

“Shouldn’t have gone out really,” she commented dryly. “Should know better by now.” She sighed. “Maybe not. Never mind, eh? Apparently it’s too much to ask for a little bit of manners. You know the drill – pulling the chair out and all the rest. Something to make a girl feel a bit valued and wanted. Also, who gives a flying sod about Quidditch stats? Everyone loves the damned sport but we were out for four hours. Four. He spoke about nothing but Quidditch until the bill came at which point it was the ‘how about we split the bill’ which is code for, as ever, I haven’t got any cash, love, do you mind?”

Alice banged the back of her head angrily against the cushion, expelling a breath of frustration. That was when the tears sprang forward and she put the cup down, managing only to get it to the floor before she had to scrunch her hands into her eyes in an effort to stifle the salty courses of liquid but to no avail did she do it and they roved freely down her cheeks more out of real tiredness, loneliness and frustration than genuine offense or upset. She wanted to find someone, truly. Young though she might have been she looked amongst people in the hope of finding someone worth having forever with.

But there was no one for her, it seemed. No one at all.

Oliver was shocked by her questions. He had steeled himself for the moment when she picked up her clothes and headed to her room. For when she closed the door and he just nodded, turned around, and went back to his own to pretend to sleep. But now she was talking, it seemed like she wasn't going to stop. Suddenly he wasn't sure if he would be helpful at all.

If he were being honest, sometimes Oliver wondered if anyone else thought the way he did. Because he wanted to explain to Alice that there were so many things about her that those gits obviously didn't see. But it wasn't his place, and it certainly wasn't normal for men, really - nonetheless Oliver himself - to go about saying all of those things he somehow wanted to. Though, really, that didn't make so much sense on its own.

When she finally calmed enough to stop throwing questions at him, Oliver tried to pick the most conservative way to explain what he felt about her words. "I think it's kind of amazing that you still go. That you still have that hope is impressive to me." He couldn't help but worry, belatedly, that he might have given away too much. The last thing he wanted, after all, was for the tables to turn and have Alice asking after his past. It wasn't supposed to be about him.

His hands flew from his pockets to grip at the back of his neck in reaction to Alice's choice. To make it worse, she took ages to actually get changed. He practically choked on the air he pulled in, and very nearly turned to the kitchen to avoid her full stop. Instead, his chin lifted, eyes staring at the ceiling until she spoke again. As she continued, he let out a sigh that he hoped she couldn't hear over her words. He would never un-see that, and though part of him loved that idea, the rest felt like a puddle. It was totally off-limits, and he knew it.

Alice was crying, though. Immediately, Oliver understood what Ariel got himself into each week. Crossing the room in a few strides, he sank onto the couch next to her. He felt lost for a moment, but finally just decided to hang it and do something rather than sit and watch her cry. So he made sure her drink was within range of his grasp, and then draped his arms around her shoulders. Turning sideways, Oliver gave a light tug to lean Alice against his chest. Once she was settled, he let out another sigh. Reaching for her cocoa, he passed it to her and wrapped her into his arms once more.

"I think that you're looking too hard. If you have found someone by the end of every week, that speaks volumes for who you are, and I'm not at all trying to downplay that. Because you're spectacular," he explained, chin resting on her shoulder so his words were spoken next to her ear. Hopefully it would help to soothe her even as he was pleased that she couldn't see his expression. The idea of just beating up the man who had caused this was too present. "I'm saying that if you look for something each week and feel the need to find it, maybe you don't give yourself enough time. It might do for you to just wait for someone... better, someone right, to come along. Next time, make him work for it. If he doesn't, he's not worth it."

The best feeling that the whole evening provided for her was the sudden peace that enveloped her, or rather, the arms that enveloped her, dragging her back against a familiar chest that sleeping against had not been, in the last few weeks, such an alien experience. She tried in vain to stem the tears, continuing to rub at her face even after Oliver’s arms looped around her, making doing so difficult, but somehow, without Ariel to be there, she felt a need to be utterly alright about the whole thing. But she wasn’t, that much was clear in swathes, even if it was an inevitability for her to return home and feel the same way – like clockwork. This was different, though. Somehow it felt ridiculous to her to let Oliver see; he who was arguably the more level headed and kinder – to normal people, that is – of the two boys she lived with. She daren’t let him perceive her upset. Yet, he did, and she felt as much resentment towards that fact as she did towards her date.

The only think to come out of crying her eyes out was the fact that her make-up was doing the trick. Witch Weekly had been incredibly helpful when it came to beauty hints and tricks and make-up that dissolved and disappeared when tears appeared rather than running down your cheeks was a miracle, indeed. It was her one solace, she supposed, as she turned into Oliver’s embrace, her hands coming up to feel for his. Closing her eyes, Alice let out a shaky breath of air and let herself mould more into Ollie, relaxing her weary body, her mind still spinning in frustrated circles despite all that had transpired. She supposed that in hindsight there was nothing wrong with the man she’d gone out with. It was the rolling continuation of rubbish ones that had finally built up and with no Ariel there to provide that constant answer, that was it. There was nothing else to do but cry.

Accepting the cocoa without complaint, in fact grateful for the warmth in her hands chilled by the night air, Alice turned her head towards Ollie, leaning into him. She smiled a little, part of her doubting that what he was saying was true. Spectacular was her life story thus far but she didn’t know if she could say the same for herself. She was trying to get on. She supposed that in trying to find someone, anyone, who felt right then it was a further denial of what had come before. If, by some stroke of luck, she could make a life with someone else, perhaps it would somehow mitigate or prevent the world she’d been plucked out of as a result of malevolence bleeding, quite literally, into benevolence from catching up with her again. It was coming, she knew. They were all in too close quarters with each other. It was bound to happen.

With Ollie, though, confined as she was in his arms and then in the apartment which was so very much a home for her now, she could pretend that there wouldn’t come a time when facing up to who she was and what she had done. Evidence of that was clouded and concealed by glamour charms here and there. It was forged in a birth certificate, in her passport’s assertion that she was French and she was born in Avignon and that was her home. Her parents were Paul and Marie. But no. That wasn’t right at all, was it? Sofia, Bulgaria. That was her home. Amidst the glittering salons of Eastern Europe she’d grown up until it had been ripped out from underneath her. Her original birth certificate said Alice Amelie Anderson. The passport that was kept locked away in a drawer in the great house in which she’d lived asserted that no, she was Bulgarian. Her parents were Richard and Vivian. Bulgarian was her mother tongue. French she’d had to learn to get on. English she’d learned – par for the course, as it were.

Somehow she thought that in making a new life for herself, with someone else, she could rewrite the wrongs. If she maintained her name: Rousseau. If she married as a Rousseau, she could be and keep the person she was now. She desperately did not want to backdate herself. She did not want to be grasped into the tumultuous lives her family led. She did not want to be a part of the Krum and Anderson circles. That wasn’t her world. Avignon was. Paul and Marie and Rémy and Jean-Jacques and Marianne – they were hers. If she could only keep that, all would be well. But it wasn’t. In the wake of another dismal evening she was reminded of that fact sourly. All she wanted to do was crawl home, in truth. She wanted to climb into bed with her father as she’d done since she was a little girl and demand him to put down his newspaper or his book, take off his glasses and cuddle away all of the hurt, all of the anxiety and all of the bad memories. Seemingly though, Ollie was doing the same thing, negating the need to run away.

“You missed the banker,” she murmured after taking a sip of her cocoa and setting it down on the floor. She turned a little in his embrace so that she could see his face properly. Her fingers began to play idly with, oddly, his arms, brushing up and down gently, feeling the grain and ebb and flow of the strength burrowed into the skin. “He was the best one. One of Jemma’s attempts at setting me up.” She snorted derisively. “He managed to pull someone else by the end of the evening and took off with her. Unluckily for him, he had a tab at the restaurant he took me to so I bought five cases of the Musigny Grand Cru red that’s, like, five thousand pounds for a bottle and had them sent to Great Ormond Street so they could auction them.” She smirked. “I got my revenge.”

It wasn’t her finest moment, at least. One hundred and fifty thousand pounds later and there was a nice cash injection at the children’s hospital but the Gringott’s employee who, later it turned out, had been siphoning money off of the top of many of the kitties Purebloods kept there, never spoke to her again. On top of criminal charges, being nearly mortally assaulted by the Goblins when they found out and being docked a hundred and fifty grand by a vindictive, jilted date, he wasn’t having the best of times. Nevertheless, Alice felt a little bit better and exceptionally satisfied when she found out. At the time though, when she’d stormed in, Ariel had been halfway out the door to go and get the bloke before she assured him he wasn’t there anyway and he shouldn’t worry himself. No one had been more satisfied than Ariel, excepting her perhaps, when she explained to him what she had done.

“But you’re right,” she murmured, curling her fingers around his hands. “Of course you’re right. I suppose I’ll just have to do something else with my Fridays.”

She knew it would boil down to being sat at the coffee table, poring over trade agreements and disputes and idiotic French nationals having lost their passports somewhere between Oxford Street and the Tower of London. Dreadful though they were, she did enjoy knowing she could go out and have a bit of fun. Outside of her work, she didn’t really have much of a social life which was a reason Jemma had presented her with at the very beginning which led to her moving in with Ollie and Ariel. She supposed she’d just make Friday another day to go rock climbing or perhaps she’d go to a pub that was holding an open mic night – something, at least.

“Do you want to be my Friday friend?” She asked with a smile. “We could try and get you up on a wall with me,” she offered, echoing her thoughts about rock climbing. Usually it was Tuesday evening affair because she had a slightly concerning habit of losing her temper with the ambassador and leaving the Ministry early. Thus, when she came home she’d been out, was covered in chalk and was aching just enough to make the sofa the most comfortable thing in the entire world, ready for movies. Her boys tended to like their feet planted on fairly solid ground, though – unless Quidditch was in the equation.

“Can we?” She asked, feeling a little bubble of excitement well within her as she turned over in his arms so their chests were pressed together. She folded her arms together and brought her chin down to rest on them as she looked at him hopefully. She wasn’t too sure he’d go for it, somehow, but was hoping to be thoroughly surprised. She did enjoy spending time with Ollie, more than she felt she honestly realised. He had always been there in a waiting-in-the-wings sort of way. He always made her feel better.

“Even if it’s only once,” she tempted, turning again so that she was laid back as she was before, finding that she rather preferred being trussed up in his arms, enveloped in his warmth – plus, her bum was getting cold. “Then I promise…” She paused, unsure what she was going to promise him. “Then I promise you can pick the next thing.”

Two dates outings for a price of one – can’t be bad.

It was a little bit strange for Oliver to hear that Alice could be vindictive, even with the other of their roommates being a bad influence on her, assuredly. But it was an amusing image, so he smiled against her hair when she leaned into him. It felt oddly normal, holding her like he was, so Oliver told himself not to question it. He was just being... friendly? The point was, he just wanted to help. And if she accepted this, perhaps they wouldn't seem to be so distant even when they sat on the same couch or stood in the same room.

His skin tingled, almost like an itch, when her fingers darted over it. Oliver just wished she would either do it purposefully - as opposed to absentmindedly as she spoke - or stop all together. As if she could hear him thinking it, her hands covered his own, making it very hard to multitask. Thinking and trying not to stare at how she fit into his arms rather nicely - those two things didn't go together. He was reminded almost too suddenly of his past attempts, and, indeed, failures. So he told himself that he couldn't even think about going there with Alice. Nope. Not even for a minute.

The problem with that idea came when Alice requested more time together. It only became more obvious when she turned round and looked up at him with round, excited eyes that he wasn't sure how to say no to. Just as he was about to reply - you know, once his fingers stopped tracing up and down her spine - she went back to facing away from him, and Oliver couldn't help but feel disappointed.

See, the problem wasn't his wishing he could say no. Not even close. No, Oliver's problem was that he could feel himself wanting to risk failure once again for this girl who didn't even consider her own offer a serious plea for him specifically to join her. She wanted someone, and he just happened to be there. What if Ariel had said those same words that Oliver had? She could very well have asked him instead.

It just broke him up a bit on the inside, because he knew exactly what he wanted his 'turn' to be. Knew what he wanted to ask of her, as she had asked him to rock climb. But his ask was no simple thing. His was not an activity between friends. Not really. The question then became: what, realistically, could he pin the offer on if Ariel asked?

Not that Ariel would. He knew what the boat meant.

Never had Oliver even considered asking someone outside of his family - which, technically included Ariel - nonetheless a girl he found himself far too interested in. But she was waiting for an answer that he didn't know how to give.

Instead, Oliver sat up, lifting Alice along with him. For once, he ignored the fact that his skin brushed hers, even if it was as strange as this time when his hands ended up against her thigh. He was too busy looking at her and trying to decide what she meant by it all. He was sure that his expression was probably one of concentration, so in a poor attempt at taking the edge off, Oliver lifted one hand to tuck a curl behind her ear.

"Alice," he murmured finally. Finding something in her gaze that was genuine and honest, he kept on. His hand was meant to fall back to her own, but Oliver's fingers seemed determined to pass over her cheek and continue after her hair. "I'll go. And I'll pick mine later. But you have to swear you won't just.. just find someone next week and change your mind."

He didn't have a real excuse for that part, so he immediately rushed to find something that wouldn't make him sound like more of a prat. Unfortunately, Oliver might have failed at that. "I don't want to be that guy you only go to if something else hasn't worked out..."

At the words that passed between them, slowly but surely the soft smile that was kept nursed on her features as a small constant began to slide away, replaced instead by the tracks of confusion that were unique to her. At the sides of her eyes, the skin creased as her brows furrowed, lines appearing on her forehead, the flex of those muscles borne into her forehead by senseless paperwork and late nights under candlelight at the Ministry. Her lips pursed, pinching together like a small, pink rosebud, and for a moment she bore all of the markers of befuddlement.

Alice found herself in Ollie’s lap and she watched him carefully, her eyes wide with her open confusion, and she replayed the words carefully over and over in her head. Swallowing, she steeled herself and released her lips, licking them absently with the tip of her tongue before pressing them together again. She inclined her head, looking up at him, her brows still bearing down on her eyes, but she lost the thread of argument she was going to present and dropped her eyes back down to where her gaze naturally fell, at the juncture where the base of his throat met his chest and disappeared under the collar of his t-shirt.

“I don’t understand,” she began finally, opening up her features once more, allowing for the light, airy look to return though her face continued to hold tight to the blindsided feelings within her.

Something was definitely missing here, she realised that much. As she mentally went over Ollie’s words yet again she found that somehow there had been a leap she wasn’t privy to. There had been, for the same of a cliché, a memo passed around that she had failed to read or hadn’t gotten at all. As she looked at him she couldn’t find the answer yet she persisted in eyeing him, hoping that perhaps on an off chance he might betray himself and actually let her see what he meant by his discourse. If she hadn’t been so flabbergasted, perhaps she would have found the time to be offended. She didn’t know.

“What do you mean? I’m your friend, Ollie. I’m not going to bail if we make plans.” She managed to get out, organising her thoughts. “And besides, I wouldn’t treat you like that. I wouldn’t expect you to put up with that even if I did. You’re not … you’re not that guy at all.”

Alice shook her head, disbelief-clad irritability now finding its way into her frame. She suddenly felt awkward in his lap. She didn’t savour his body heat anymore and found instead that it was rather awkward to be there. She hadn’t expected the expectation – of there being something two-fold in her asking him to go somewhere with her instead of persisting with the dates or of her treating him so badly. She knew that she had the capacity to – everyone had – but she wouldn’t have consciously done it, she knew that much.

“You’re nuts,” she decided finally. “You’re talking absolute wet. We’re friends, Oll. Shockingly enough, I actually want to spend time with you.”

She turned in his lap, swinging her legs either side of his hips. She looked at him firmly, a slight frown turning her mouth downwards. She applied a pointed stare before throwing her hands up, trying to gather and validate her thoughts and, in turn, his words. She couldn’t find a rhythm to it. She couldn’t find any reason. What was there, for his assertion?

“But you’ll go, then?” She probed, in search of clarification, a wide smile glinting over her features. She grasped his face in her hands and she leaned up, her body coming flush with his, to press a kiss to his forehead. “You are an angel. Okay? We’ll make loads of plans. And I won’t bail on you, I swear it. I’m making plans with you,” she pushed him playfully with a grin. “So don’t you go thinking I don’t want you, mister. You’re my favourite, okay?”