Last time I had seen Oliver Wood, he was a scrawny little fourth year brat who had taken to following me around in my last year at Hogwarts.  Apparently he had been upset that he had taken my spot as Gryffindor’s starting Keeper back when I was in my fifth year.  It seemed no matter how many times I told him that I was better as a Chaser anyways, he was determined to make it up to me.

Clearly this man was very gifted at the art of the schmooze. I allowed myself to play along. “It’s no problem at all. I’m quite flattered actually, but you must understand, that the young fans, especially for an old and established club like the Magpies, are so impressionable. I’m only trying to do my duty as a role model.”

That morning was the morning that the edition of Yew Wand featuring yours truly was to be released to their subscribers, and I was nervous as hell. They had been kind enough to tell me that I would also be receiving a copy that morning, so I tiptoed into the kitchen, half expecting it to jump out and attack me. It did no such thing.

“Ugh, you guys are lame,” I grumbled, squeezing the water out of my hair. I had never been a huge fan of birthdays. Believe it or not, I wasn’t completely comfortable being the centre of attention. I wracked my brain for a way out, but Lloyd must have read the look on my face.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. We’re going to make this the best birthday you’ve ever had,” he grinned.

I leapt out of the bed as fast as I could, tangling myself in sheets as I went. I may have screamed a little as I hopped around on my left leg, trying to free my right. By the time I got two feet steadily on the ground, I looked over to see Oliver lounging casually with his hands behind his head watching me. So much for the upper hand.

If I had been anyone else, I’m sure I would have almost felt sorry for Puddlemere. As it was, I was having the time of my life.  Ian and Brad had started using some of our riskier trick plays, just so that I would get more chances to score on Oliver - and I was making them too. 

 And then there was an awkward silence where we realized that we no longer had anything in common. Was my life really so meaningless that I couldn’t even relate to these successful people, and had to rely only on swearing at my immature teammates for friendship? Merlin, I was pathetic.