Granted, Oliver had never liked Sarah; it was at the beginning of his second year on the train ride to Hogwarts, it involved the last piece of Pumpkin Pasty and he not having it but she did. But he would swear, if anyone were to ask him if he had done in on purpose, that it was an accident. He did not mean it.

After that quick visit to apologise and how Sarah had reacted to his surprising goodwill, Oliver had wished he had knocked her out harder for a few more days.

Oliver felt so much more like a loser than he would ever feel when he was in the Quidditch pitch.

He shifted uncomfortably when Duncan placed a firm hand on Katie’s back and whispered something into her ear that made her giggle.

However, Hufflepuff was far from winning the match, as they were still thirty points behind Slytherin.

Ever since he got the job in the Ministry of Magic, under the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, Mr Jenkins had hoped Sarah would follow his footsteps and work in the Ministry after she was done at Hogwarts.

“I suppose it’s not in Rickett’s nature either to appeal with the professor,” Sarah said. “He’s got balls the size of the Snitch.” 

But something that would kill her, more than Oliver’s mockery, more than the daggers the girls were shooting at her, more than the real daggers they might be shooting at her, was the fact that she had been taken away from something that meant so much to her.

All she could hear was the heavy beating of her heart ringing in her ears. She felt worked up, and she could not stand holding back the urge anymore. Two weeks was far too long.

“Shoot!” Sarah jumped out of her bed and searched the pile of rolled up parchments sitting next to her bed. “I forgot to hand in Snape’s essay!”

However, what came next was worse than she had expected. The professor smacked her roll of parchment down on her desk hard to reveal a big fat zero on the top. Next to it, to her utter surprise, written in scrawny handwriting: Oliver Wood – Fifth Year Gryffindor.

The professor had been keeping a close eye on Sarah since the beginning of the term, consulting other teachers on her behaviour in class and in her studies. She had done not well for most of the midterm tests, except for Muggle Studies, and had gotten the worst grade for Potions. Needless to say, the mistaken hand-in of Oliver’s essay had caused her and Snape had relayed the matter to Professor Sprout as well.

It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that she could play Quidditch again, but what followed close behind was foul bile gurgling at the back of her mouth.

Half of the time she was daydreaming about the match with Slytherin, and dreading if she were prepared enough to play against them. The other half of the time, she was thinking of Oliver, much to her dismay.

He buried his face in his hands and let out a loud sigh. He felt so stupid falling into this trap.

Oliver got lost in Muggle London.

He caught a whiff of her hair and the softness of her skin. Stars shot in his eyes as he blinked to chase them away, and he stumbled a little when he felt his knees buckled slightly.

Oliver had always knew that Sarah and Cedric were two peas in a pod, but it made him feel uncomfortable that day seeing the Hufflepuff prefect placing a hand on the small of Sarah’s back and putting a farther distance between her and Oliver.

Which would be the wisest decision to make next: get back together with Katie and see if their love could be rekindled, or try to get with Sarah and see if there was ever a love to kindle a fire on.

Oliver loathed it that no matter how hard he tries to forget Sarah, she would always find a way to resurface in his mind. Not only that, the thought of her made him want her, crave for her. When he had held her hand in the dream, he had felt at ease and comforted, and it was a feeling Oliver wished he did not enjoy.

“Oops, sorry –” Oliver muttered to the person he had backed into, and stopped short when he realised who it was.

Sarah could sense her mother’s urgency bouncing off every word in the letter, more than Mr Diggory’s, as she was aware that the last person to be petrified was a Hufflepuff.

She had just gathered her books from the floor and was contemplating to go back to the Great Hall to find Cedric, when suddenly, the door of the broom cupboard beside her creaked open. A hand shot out from the dark closet, and pulled Sarah into the dim corner.

Later that night, he had only to stand at the still life painting near the kitchens leading into the Hufflepuff dorms for close to an hour, relaying messages to her via her Hufflepuff House mates, coaxing her to go on their Valentine’s Day date for the night.
 

It was heartbreaking for her that she could not even have eye contact with him. It was not that she blamed him for what happened; she was just really, really embarrassed. And what with all the rumours going around, she just could not deal with this problem at the moment.

Just before he turned the corner, Oliver’s eyes met Sarah’s briefly, and she felt something stirred in her heart. 

 “As well as a Shooting Star would on the Quidditch pitch, before it splutters to malfunction itself and crash me to the ground,” Oliver replied.