A/N Ok this is dedicated to Juvenus (and all my other reviewers) who read
all my sad stories and gave sweet reviews but wanted one where nobody
dies…so here you go and thanks for the sweet reviews! Enjoy the happy
ending!
Disclaimer I own nothing. Though I wish I owned Sean Biggerstaff!
Abandoned with Hope
I sighed heavily and threw myself onto the hotel bed that I had been staying at since Scotland had kicked me off the team.
I flinched as I saw a mouse scurry across the carpet not for the first time in this cheap hotel, the only thing I could afford. Being orphaned after leaving Hogwarts after joining Scotland's Quidditch team and then being kicked off I had no where to go. All my friends had either died or deserted me.
Sighing again I looked at the unfinished article had was writing for the local paper for a minimal amount of pay. I carefully picked up my notebook and favorite pen and headed toward the local pub.
I opened the door and all the regulars looked up and greeted me with their usual cheerful grins, "Hi, Angelina!" and "How's it going, Angelina?"
I returned their cheery grins with a half-hearted smile.
"What'd it be, Angelina?" The bartender, Tom, said.
"Oh, nothing today, Tom, I have an article due tomorrow." I replied.
I chewed on my pen and wrote a bit.
Suddenly a man walked in the pub with a desolate look on his face. He plopped down on the stool next mine.
I tried to concentrate on my article but I had the oddest feeling I knew him from somewhere. The way he walked, the way he talked, everything he did seemed oddly familiar, and the oddest thing of all was I felt like he was staring at me too.
"What are you writing?" He asked suddenly.
"Oh just an article," I said casually.
"Oh you're a reporter," He replied, was I imagining it or was there a hint of disappointment in his voice?
"Well I am now, I was a Quidditch player but Scotland kicked me off, the stupid, stuck up self-satisfied prigs." I said more to myself than to this mystery man.
"I knew it!" He suddenly exclaimed.
"Err, knew what?"
"You're Angelina Johnson!" He exclaimed, a boyish grin spreading over his face.
"Well, I was…but that was in my Hogwarts days…I dunno who I am now…" I said yet again to myself more than to him.
"Angelina? Don't you remember? It's me Oliver Wood!"
"Wood???" I asked, amazed.
"This is amazing! I never thought I'd run into you again! So how's your life going?" He asked excitedly.
It was a normal question to anyone else but to me it was just another pang to the fact that my life was so terrible.
"Mmm, let's see all my friends have either died or deserted me, my parents both died, killed by You-Know-Who, I was on the Quidditch team for Scotland but they're just a bunch of back stabbers and fired me and now I live in a cheap hotel, I swear roaches get a better deal," At this Oliver smiled a bit but then realized I was serious, "and I work for the local paper and get paid a sickle an article, how do you think life's going?" I snapped.
His dark, mysterious brown eyes met mine and he said quietly, "Angel…I know what it's like to feel abandoned by everyone you know and love," He placed his hand over mine, "I really do…you can tell me about it…"
For a fleeting moment I felt like sobbing in his strong arms and telling him everything. But I had learned that if you don't want your heart broken then don't trust people so easily. God, I was no stranger with a broken heart, or I was, now nobody bothers me and I don't bother them so there's no one to break it.
"Listen Oliver, hun, I have to finish this article, you should really just leave me in peace." I said coldly.
"Oh, okay then. I just thought…well never mind that…" He replied and got up to leave. His brown eyes caught mine; they were so full of sorrow that even my heart of stone couldn't refuse them.
"I'm sorry, Oliver. Um, maybe I could get an interview with you?" I asked hopefully.
"Sure," He said, but it was the same half-hearted way I smiled at the regulars here.
"Well um, do you think self-stirring cauldrons are worth the extra money?" I asked.
"Hell no! Do you think I got these biceps from 'self-stirring cauldrons'? Man, thease are more from all those Potions classes than any Quidditch exercise!" he grinned at me and for the first time in years; I grinned back.
Disclaimer I own nothing. Though I wish I owned Sean Biggerstaff!
Abandoned with Hope
I sighed heavily and threw myself onto the hotel bed that I had been staying at since Scotland had kicked me off the team.
I flinched as I saw a mouse scurry across the carpet not for the first time in this cheap hotel, the only thing I could afford. Being orphaned after leaving Hogwarts after joining Scotland's Quidditch team and then being kicked off I had no where to go. All my friends had either died or deserted me.
Sighing again I looked at the unfinished article had was writing for the local paper for a minimal amount of pay. I carefully picked up my notebook and favorite pen and headed toward the local pub.
I opened the door and all the regulars looked up and greeted me with their usual cheerful grins, "Hi, Angelina!" and "How's it going, Angelina?"
I returned their cheery grins with a half-hearted smile.
"What'd it be, Angelina?" The bartender, Tom, said.
"Oh, nothing today, Tom, I have an article due tomorrow." I replied.
I chewed on my pen and wrote a bit.
Suddenly a man walked in the pub with a desolate look on his face. He plopped down on the stool next mine.
I tried to concentrate on my article but I had the oddest feeling I knew him from somewhere. The way he walked, the way he talked, everything he did seemed oddly familiar, and the oddest thing of all was I felt like he was staring at me too.
"What are you writing?" He asked suddenly.
"Oh just an article," I said casually.
"Oh you're a reporter," He replied, was I imagining it or was there a hint of disappointment in his voice?
"Well I am now, I was a Quidditch player but Scotland kicked me off, the stupid, stuck up self-satisfied prigs." I said more to myself than to this mystery man.
"I knew it!" He suddenly exclaimed.
"Err, knew what?"
"You're Angelina Johnson!" He exclaimed, a boyish grin spreading over his face.
"Well, I was…but that was in my Hogwarts days…I dunno who I am now…" I said yet again to myself more than to him.
"Angelina? Don't you remember? It's me Oliver Wood!"
"Wood???" I asked, amazed.
"This is amazing! I never thought I'd run into you again! So how's your life going?" He asked excitedly.
It was a normal question to anyone else but to me it was just another pang to the fact that my life was so terrible.
"Mmm, let's see all my friends have either died or deserted me, my parents both died, killed by You-Know-Who, I was on the Quidditch team for Scotland but they're just a bunch of back stabbers and fired me and now I live in a cheap hotel, I swear roaches get a better deal," At this Oliver smiled a bit but then realized I was serious, "and I work for the local paper and get paid a sickle an article, how do you think life's going?" I snapped.
His dark, mysterious brown eyes met mine and he said quietly, "Angel…I know what it's like to feel abandoned by everyone you know and love," He placed his hand over mine, "I really do…you can tell me about it…"
For a fleeting moment I felt like sobbing in his strong arms and telling him everything. But I had learned that if you don't want your heart broken then don't trust people so easily. God, I was no stranger with a broken heart, or I was, now nobody bothers me and I don't bother them so there's no one to break it.
"Listen Oliver, hun, I have to finish this article, you should really just leave me in peace." I said coldly.
"Oh, okay then. I just thought…well never mind that…" He replied and got up to leave. His brown eyes caught mine; they were so full of sorrow that even my heart of stone couldn't refuse them.
"I'm sorry, Oliver. Um, maybe I could get an interview with you?" I asked hopefully.
"Sure," He said, but it was the same half-hearted way I smiled at the regulars here.
"Well um, do you think self-stirring cauldrons are worth the extra money?" I asked.
"Hell no! Do you think I got these biceps from 'self-stirring cauldrons'? Man, thease are more from all those Potions classes than any Quidditch exercise!" he grinned at me and for the first time in years; I grinned back.