Alison tried not to wince at the inevitable question posed by the reporter. Ever since she had burst onto the music scene five years earlier, her love life had been of great interest to witches and wizards alike. The fact that no reporter seemed to be able to "unearth the dirt" on her led to them manufacturing the most bizarre rumors, rumors that Alison had learnt with time to take with a pinch of salt. When her first three singles were consecutive chart toppers, reporters on both sides of the Atlantic began to sit up and take notice of this promising young star. Unfortunately, with the fame and the recognition came a total loss of privacy. It hadn't taken the reporters long to uncover her relationship with Oliver Wood, and what had ensued was possibly the most trying month of her entire career. Everywhere she went, reporters had badgered her with inquiries as to why she had abandoned the relationship. Alison had quickly learnt that the way to deal with such questions was with a casual toss of the head and a nonchalant acknowledgement that her relationship with Oliver Wood had been nothing more than a casual fling. Initially, such statements had caused her great grief and she spent several sleepless nights tossing and turning in bed, wondering if she had made the right decision, wondering if perhaps she had been wrong not to stay and try to put things right with Oliver. But such doubts had wearied of reappearing when they were promptly dispelled without any consideration at all and now, Alison felt nothing as she said Oliver's name. She had convinced herself that her relationship with Oliver had, indeed, been of no significance to her or to him, for that matter. But the feelings that she believed she had destroyed, were, in fact, locked away in the farthest, deepest reaches of her soul. Little did she know that life was about to present her with the key to that lock.

            The reporter looked at her expectantly, hoping to succeed where all those before her had failed. But as Alison delivered her well-rehearsed line, the reporter's face fell. After five years, she ought to have known better than to try and find out about Alison's love life, but in the end, she had yielded to the overwhelming temptation to ask the same question that had been directed at Alison Adams an indeterminable number of times.

            No sooner had the reporter left than Alison's manager, Paul stepped into the room.

'How'd it go?' he asked, 'did they ask about Oliver again?'

Alison averted her eyes and nodded.

'It doesn't matter anyway…' she muttered, 'he means nothing to me…nothing at all.'

Paul nodded. He had heard this many times before and had come to accept that Alison would never let anyone penetrate the barrier she had built up around herself, not even Paul, who had been closer to her than most anyone else over the previous few years.

'Oh, by the way,' he said, 'a letter arrived for you when you were at the interview…'

'Paul…you know I'm sick of answering fan mail…cant you ––'

'Not fan mail…it's from England, from your father.'

Alison held out her hand for the letter, and Paul handed it to her. Without a word, he left the room, leaving Alison alone in the room with the letter.

*****

            Oliver's eyes fluttered open. He groaned softly as a wave of nausea hit him. He rolled over onto his side and stared blearily at the dark haired woman lying next to him. Try as he might, he could not remember her name.

*Shit*, he thought. *Shit, I never thought it would come to this. I can't even remember her fucking name*

He slid out of bed, and gently pulled the covers back over the woman's naked form. His head throbbed and spun like a carousel ride.

*Wow, I must have had more to drink than usual last night. My head hasn't throbbed this way since…since that night when Alison–*

His thoughts were interrupted from going down that painfully familiar path by the woman's seductive voice from behind him. He looked around at her. Her tousled dark hair framed her face like a cloud and she winked alluringly at him. Oliver felt a pulse of desire flow through him. But no longer was he inebriated enough to fool himself into thinking that what he was doing was his birthright. He was playing with women now, just as Cedric had at Hogwarts. He couldn't even remember her name, for Christ's sake.

            Almost as if Oliver's thoughts had summoned him, there came a knock at the door. Without waiting for permission, Cedric pushed open the door and grinned inanely at the brunette lying in bed.

'What will the tabloids say?' mocked Cedric. 'I can see the front page of the Daily Prophet… "The Captain's True Love". And about time too, Wood! It's been five years –'

'I don't even know her fucking name', muttered Oliver under his breath, glancing uneasily back at the girl who was now lounging on his bed.

Cedric's face dropped.

'Ahhh…well, that's a bit awkward then, isn't it?'

Oliver glared daggers at him and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Cedric looked over at the girl, and noticed to his chagrin that she looked more than a little disgruntled at Oliver's callous behaviour. He smiled consolingly at her, but she had evidently had enough.

'Turn away, would you?' she snapped.

Cedric obliged, and behind him, he heard her slipping out of bed and into her clothes. She then brushed by him, and walked out of the hotel room looking positively murderous. Cedric groaned. The last thing Oliver needed was for another scandal to hit him. Over the past five years, Oliver had consistently made the headlines, first as Alison Adams' ex-boyfriend and then later, as the archetypal playboy who couldn't seem to give a hoot about commitment. So far, the publicity hadn't hurt the public's perception of Oliver significantly, but Cedric couldn't help but wonder how long their goodwill towards him would last. Oliver himself had brushed aside the scandals and ploughed on. If there was one thing that the excessive drinking and one-night stands hadn't affected, it was Oliver's complete devotion to Quidditch. And as the England Captain, he had plenty on his plate, especially now that the World Cup was hovering on the horizon. The last thing he needed was anything that could possible divert his attention. Which was why Cedric wanted to make sure that Oliver didn't read the newspaper that day.

*****