The Untold Dangers of Paperback Romances
Finger Damage Whilst Ripping Corsets
It had been one of those nights.
Those nights had never been a phrase that Oliver fully understood – until now. Starting with the nightmarish wedding rehearsal and ending with toting Katie Bell home on his back, Oliver was certain that those nights, meant last night in particular.
This morning wasn't off to a grand start either. He'd spent the night tumbling around on his too small sofa and not by choice. Katie had found his bed as soon as he'd set her down in his flat and she'd refused to move regardless of what he'd done. He wasn't the chivalrous sort but he wasn't one of the other guys either.
He'd let her have the bed.
Still, the cramp in his leg wasn't at all bad this morning. Actually, Oliver moved his knee back and forth beneath the covers and bit back a surprised laugh – it wasn't hurting him at all! After all, he'd been expecting a terrible time after carrying that miserable little chatterbox.
Feeling absolutely rejuvenated, Oliver opened what had been only seconds ago been weary eyes and sat up. He was thinking that maybe that he'd push his good luck and go for a quick fly around the neighbourhood on his broom. All that changed however, when he pulled the covers from off his legs. His legs. Except ... those – those weren't his. He must have stared for a good five minutes at the short, dainty calves that protruded from beneath the hem of a black skirt. His legs. He wiggled an ankle ... a pretty little shoe wiggled right back at his flabbergasted face.
The blood around his heart grew cold – the mighty organ shuddered for the first time in his life, when Oliver Wood looked down at his chest and noticed that – somehow last night – he had grown breasts.
His mouth dried out and through the dizziness swamping his mind, explanations came and went.
Well, he did what any right thinking man would do of course. He grabbed the twin mounds and squeezed. Belatedly his mind registered the warmth of his now feminine hands and a dull sensation of pain travelling across his chest. They were his! Bloody, bloody hell!
Long brown waves of hair fell heavily across his shoulders – a stifling feeling really. It was all made a hundred times worse by the rank taste of leftover alcohol on his tongue and the low murmur of sleepiness pulling at his mind.
This ... this was a dream! Of course – he'd hit his head somehow – sometime – he didn't remember when. Sometime last night between dropping Katie Bell off on his bed and –
"Oh shit." His hands fell limply from the breasts he'd been grasping. He was still in his room. The legs he'd been staring at were familiar. Those were Katie's breasts. He was in Katie Bell's body.
"I'm in a woman's body." Saying it out loud didn't make the ordeal any easier. He heard the high soprano echoing off his walls and he was falling back in despair in an instant.
His vision was blurry. He felt as though he would retch. "Fuck me!"
Without another thought, Oliver scampered out of his bed. He allowed himself a few moments to adjust to the lightness of this new body and to the sensation of being, for lack of a better word, tiny. It was strange – damn strange, like falling into a lake in the middle of winter; there was shock, panic and finally the feeling of helplessness.
The alcohol he'd found Katie drinking last night was now in his system. It dulled his senses and sickened him to the core. Still, he pushed past the feelings and continued on into his living room. He was still in his flat, although in this body it was a completely different experience.
Each step carried a prayer that he'd somehow awaken and find that he had been dreaming. Perhaps it was a side effect from all of the pain potions he had been taking for his leg.
All wishes, prayers and bargains fell to the wayside when he found – himself, so to speak, curled up on his sofa, right where he'd collapsed last night.
His heart thundered in his ears as he stepped forward and with those same odd, feminine hands, he shook his body. The response was a loud snore and then, as if to add insult to injury, Oliver was pushed away by the malicious brute who then snuggled deeper into the sofa.
Frustrations multiplied in that instant and fuelled the strength of three men in those tiny brown arms. He pulled the bigger body until it fell in heap onto the carpet. That did it.
"Ay, you little bitch!" It was his voice all right. His face, his body – "Katie?" he said, flinching as the sweet voice tumbled from his lips. "Yeah ... what? Why the hell did you yank me from ..." A pause. Oliver watched as Katie, he supposed, froze and gawked open mouthed at her new, much larger hands.
"What the in the name of fuck, fucking happened?"
Clever. "Katie, something happened last night ... or this morning ... I don't know. But ..."
"I'm you ..." She was still sitting on the floor, mouth still wide open. Oliver thought she made him look too comical. The expression of wild disbelief was one he would never wear. "You're me ..."
That was exactly the problem.
"I reckon it has to be some sort of polyjuice potion. Maybe you took some last night at the pub without realizing it."
"No – ahhh, shit!" Katie tried to stand but fell back down to the carpet in the next instant, hissing in pain. "My ... your knee ... it's ..."
Oliver bit back the wave of embarrassment. He hated to watch weakness, especially his own. "You'll need to take something for it," he had already rushed into his bathroom on the other side of the flat. He understood the awkwardness of the situation. Still, he couldn't let Katie know just how bad his knee was. He could walk so easily in her body, it was a fact that was difficult not to begrudge.
His medicine cabinet was filled to the brim with potions and prescriptions. His hand knew exactly which one to reach for (third one from the left), exactly how many more times for the day he would need it (two capfuls before meals).
While rummaging, Oliver's eye caught his reflection in the small glass mirror above his sink. There it was, that face he'd admired for so long. The long lashes, arched cheekbones and full lips that had filled many an adolescent dream. Now his.
It was more than a little disturbing.
"Drink some of this. It'll help."
Katie did as Oliver asked. Somehow he was easier to trust in her body. He wasn't lying anyways; the harsh bitter tonic did make the burning in her knee recede. "What's that?" she asked while the syrup burnt its way down her gut.
"It's ... err ... a painkiller." She watched as her eyes shifted. Something she knew she did when she wanted to change the topic. Usually she would have persisted but today, she managed to feel a twinge of sympathy for Wood.
She hadn't had a clue that his knee was so rotten.
"I-I ... was saying this isn't polyjuice." Her voice was so much deeper now, it rumbled in her throat with every breath. "Who would have had time to mix it? Anyways ... I didn't drink anything that foul."
"How would you know? When I found you last night you were at the bottom of your cups."
Katie rolled her eyes, this time she did manage to get to her feet. Tall, she noticed with a start, she was so tall. "You should know the only reason I won't smack you is because I don't want to hurt my face."
Oliver yelled, "Well, if it's not polyjuice then what?"
"I-I ... I don't know exactly."
"We need to fix this."
It was very lovely how Oliver always had orders on what to do yet never a clue on how to get it done. Katie was just about to point that out when there came a knock on the flat's door.
In front of her, Katie watched as her brown eyes widened considerably as panic registered completely on Oliver's new face. "Oh shit! Who the fuck is that?" He hissed, then motioned for her to inquire.
Rolling her eyes, Katie called, in her most sing song along voice, "who is it?"
Oliver looked murderous below her. That was, at least, before the answer sing songed back – "It's me love muffin. Oh, hurry and let me in! I've had the worst morning!"
The slag. Katie made a face. "Nasty!" she snapped so Oliver could hear, "tell her to sod off. You don't need a case of feline AIDS on top of everything else."
Oliver shook his head wildly, while her hair tumbled messily across his shoulders and face, "I can't!" he whispered all the while chewing menacingly on his bottom lip. Katie was just about to tell him to stop damaging the goods – after all, she expected this little mix up to be over with very soon, when the brown eyes latched onto her. "You have to pretend that you're me!"
That was laughable. "Oliver, no."
"Just ..." She'd never seen someone so panicked. "Just open the door and tell her you're not feeling well and to come back later."
"Please Katie!" He looked damn troubled, "Just this one time."
Katie Bell's sympathy for Oliver Wood had evaporated during her fourth year when he, under either the influence of drugs or a madman's induced delirium he had forced her to wake up at four o'clock, rain or shine (more often rain than shine) and fly around a damn Quidditch pitch for hours at a time until she had nearly died of pneumonia.
Seeing him now however, even though it was technically herself she was looking at, softened her hard heart. "Fine. But you owe me!"
Oliver nodded with the relief that had only begun to banish his panic when he saw Katie saunter (for that was the only way he could describe the sashay of his hips) off to the door, pull it open with an elegant flash of the wrist and then pose with hands on hips as she spoke, neck moving from side to side, "I'm sick." She threw in a cough for good measure. "Go home."
"What?" Oliver heard Victoria's voice from the other side of the door, already annoyed, never patient. "Move aside Oliver!"
She was pushing her way past Katie now, who seemed even more annoyed than the former. Oliver wasted no time. Victoria could not see another girl in his flat at this hour. She would only think the worst. Who could blame her?
He dashed into the kitchen and ducked behind the small island in the centre. The kitchen, Oliver mused, was the last place Victoria would ever venture.
"My feet are swollen already! God, I'm not even showing yet!"
Oh no, his heart fell. Katie would find out.
"Showing what?" He heard his voice pause, and then boldly suggest, "the door?"
"Stop the crap Oliver." Victoria scolded, he heard her put down her handbag on the sofa and slip her shoes off. She was making herself comfortable. "I have had the worst night. Anna Kaye is absolutely hysterical! And she should be! That slag! I can't believe that she could do something like that to me!"
Then was another pause, the smack of bare feet against tiles and then, "why is this blanket out here? Did you sleep on your chair?"
"Err ... my knee." Katie barely faltered, "It ... helps to sleep out here sometimes."
"I hope it's not giving you too much trouble." Victoria's voice dropped; suddenly it was low and husky, "Because I'm ready for a work out of my own."
He could hear her walking back over to where Katie was. "Look ... Sla ... Victoria. I'm not in the mood."
"Since when are you not in the mood?"
Heavier footsteps came now as Katie obviously shifted to get away from her.
"Is this about the baby?"
"The ... baby?"
"It's fine. I've told you ... the mediwitch said that I can ..."
Oliver slumped onto the floor in his kitchen. It was no use. Katie was going to destroy in ten minutes what had taken two years to build. Could he explain this to Victoria? That he and his not so great pal Katie Bell had somehow switched bodies last night? No. Not a chance. He couldn't even explain it to himself.
"Oliver ... really!"
"That's ... that's not Oli ... that's not my baby!"
"Really Victoria? Do you think people don't know? You could at least be discreet!"
He heard the smack long before he imagined Katie felt it, although it was long after his stomach sunk to his bowels. "I don't have a clue what's wrong with you today Oliver! But you cannot disrespect me like this! Here!" There was a grunt and a slight thud as Oliver knew, his fiancée had just thrown her engagement ring against the wall.
There were several other murmurs and Katie dropped a few more remarks about slags and orphans before finally the door slammed noisily behind his now former fiancée.
Afterwards Katie snorted with scorn, "Ha! As if! Pregnant! Even if that's true God and Merlin alone know whose baby it is."
Oliver rose from his hiding place, his face grim. Katie stilled when she saw him, "what?" She sounded genuinely confused.
"Congratulations Bell." His voice was hollow, as were his eyes, "you've managed to fuck up my life in only twenty minutes."
"Oh come off it Oliver!" Katie folded her arms across her chest and had the audacity to look offended, "I just saved you eighteen years of hell. And probably a good few STDs as well."
"You don't understand!" He snapped and then took a deep breath, "first of all, don't talk about Victoria that way. Second – that –" he pointed towards the door, "is my child!"
Katie's brow furrowed and then she actually looked upset. "I thought I was doing you a favour."
"The only favour you can do for me right now is figure out how the hell to get the fuck out of my body!"
Author: So sorry about the delay. This whole switch body thing wasn't in my original plan, but I was so reluctant to post a story that was just – boy likes girl, girl likes boy – enter conflict – problem solved, happily ever after. This, I think, adds a twist. Also, here's the perfect opportunity for these two to finally understand each other.
Yes, Oliver's girl is pregnant, hence the quickie wedding. Is the baby his? Who knows? Katie's right about her slagginess. More to come soon! In the next chapter, the solution for what happened to the pair of them! Oliver has his turn to impersonate Katie and much more!
Please review! Thank you!