Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related material. All materials in this story are copyrighted by people that are a hell of a lot better off than I am. The lines in italics at the bottom are from the song "Weeping Willow" by the Hush Sound.
Author's Note: I thought I'd put up this piece of Katie/Oliver fiction while I was fighting for creative control for International Delight with my muses. If you read International Delight, I do not know how long it will be before I have the next chapter up. . . I am having creative problems.
Weeping Willow
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the velvet sky above me. Stars shimmered in the distance, and the lights of the city shone below us. Wind whipped our bodies violently, but still, we sat there, our backs pressed against cold stone and our fingers intertwined.
He grasped tightly at my hand, and I soon felt his thumb brushing gently over my own, in the likeness of a lover's first kiss. My breath hitched in my throat, and my cheeks burned in shame.
I should not have been there, with my hand held in his, with his head laid gently on my shoulder, and with his breath tickling my neck. I should not have been there; I was as sure of the fact as I was of the mountains that stretched up all around us.
My blush grew deeper as his lips cracked slightly. His breath smelled of peppermint. His skin smelled of verbena and mint, and I was inebriated by his scent.
"I love you," he whispered, and I closed my eyes. I wasn't shocked. His love was the reason I was there when I knew I should not be.
"I know," I replied, and I suddenly felt his fingers retract from my own and his head leave my shoulder. As he slowly put a foot of space between us, a lump formed in my throat, and I could not stop the tears that fell.
The night air, which had seemed sticky with him pressed against my bare skin, had instantaneously turned frigid upon my goosefleshed body. I felt cloth brush my arm, and I knew that he was putting his clothes on. His breath tickled my arm as he reached by me to grasp his blue jeans.
"Put your clothes on," he insisted as he puffed with the struggle of putting his pants on sitting down, "you'll catch a cold otherwise."
My clothes were pressed gently into my hands, and the tears coursed harder than before. Though half-blinded by tears, I managed to dress as he breathed (calmly, coolly, collectively) next to me. I had put him off, yet I was the one crying.
I didn't cry because it would be our last time together. Nor did I cry because I loved him and couldn't admit it. I cried because not only did I know it would be our last time together and I loved him and could not admit it, but also because I knew it was incredibly wrong of me to still be using him.
A few moments elapsed before I felt him grab my elbow and stand me up. He jerked me forward lightly, and I violently tore my arm from his grasp. The night always seemed to come down to this. He would tell me he loved me, I would reply that I knew, we would dress while I cried, and he would jerk me back towards civilization.
Well. . . not this time. No, sir. I would absolutely not stand for the searing feeling of my arm being nearly ripped from it's socket. Once I pulled my arm from his muscular grip, I lashed out violently. No. . . not this time.
I pushed hard against his chest, and my feet slid backwards in the stones that pooled around them. My sobs grew violent as I rushed away from him. My feet slid in the slicing stones, and I regretted the fact that I had recklessly left my shoes strewn in the dew-covered grass. I disregarded the pain and simply ran.
Minutes elapsed, and I felt that I had been running for an eternity. Sobs ravaged my poorly-trained lungs, and I could hear, and almost feel, his thunderous footfalls behind me. I knew that the crying was detrimental to my overall plan of escape, but as hard as I tried, I could not stop myself.
My legs soon collapsed beneath me, and I tumbled to the ground. Tears fell onto my trembling arms, and I felt that I might vomit from the force of my sobs. He skidded to a halt beside me, and the stones that flew up from the path stung my arms in the likeness of ice stones during a spring hail storm.
The gravel crunched as he dropped to the ground next to me. I knew I must look disgusting with my eyes swollen and red. However, no matter how I looked, it did not deter him from embracing me. I let out a half-strangled shriek and attempted to claw my way from his embrace.
He held strong and began to rock me back and forth slowly. Slowly, velvet sky and dark brown eyes filled my line of vision, and I stopped sobbing. I allowed the rhythm of his body and the wind whistling through the trees to calm me, and I was only dimly aware of the screaming pain in my feet and lungs.
"Katie, why do you always have to do this to me?" He asked softly as he stroked my hair gently. I turned my face away from him and buried it into his shirt and just cried. I could barely breathe, but I did not want to. What was the point in living if I could not live with him forever in my life?
With a raspy gasp, I replied, "You're getting married tomorrow."
His sigh filled my ears and vibrated through my body. When I thought he would say nothing, a soft murmuring met my ears. "Katie, you know you're more important than her."
My tears poured through his shirt, and I began to shake my head. How could I be more important than the woman he was marrying? "Oliver, you've just let me use you this entire time, and it is wrong. It is so wrong!"
I felt a wet drop splash across my cheek, and I was taken aback. I hadn't been aware that there was to be rain that night. Oliver and I never rendezvoused on a night that it was set to rain. It would make the hike up and down the mountain, along with the activities in between, much too unpleasant.
I turned back to stare at his hard face, and my heart skipped a beat. He was shaking his head from side to side and whispering vehemently to himself as tears fell from his chocolate colored eyes. His whisperings met my ears, and I heard one phrase being repeated incessantly. "It has always been you."
I pulled away from him and began to stand. My thongs were tossed on the ground next to him, and I slowly slipped them onto my feet. With a sigh of remorse, I whispered, "Oliver, you deserve a woman that loves you. . . Not one that uses you and tosses you aside. Aly loves you, and I know that she always will. I will never love you. I'll always just be that summer fling."
"No," he moaned, and his wail filled the air around me.
My body convulsed in shivers, and I knew what I needed to do. "Oliver, I am truly sorry if I have led you on, but I am just a common whore. You have a great girl waiting for you at home, and I hope you always remember that. You need a companion, Oliver, not a fuck every now and then."
And I walked away. My blood rushed through my body, and my heart thumped sorely in my chest. I had left him on the ground behind me. . . my one and only. . . my knight in shining armor. . . my prince charming. . . Simply because I wanted Alicia to be happy. I loved Oliver, with the deepest fibre of my being, but Alicia deserved happiness, and Oliver could provide that for her. And so, as blood rushed through my body and my heart thumped sorely in my chest, I left my one true love lying on the ground in a sobbing pile.
I passed under a weeping willow. Like her, I knew that I would spend my life blowing listlessly about in the wind, weeping silently. . .
there will be tomorrow the sun will light a sea of sorrow tonight it set and took our friend if i could do one thing i would bring him back the snow won't stick to the weeping willow summer was painted on our skin and the secrets hidden in our childish lips they would die for a kiss