Disclaimer: .................right................

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the feed back . In answer to someone who said that the narrative was adding a bit of that original spark, it was the first chapter so I will blame it on that. As the plot heats up it will get even more fun and cool..... I hope. Forgive me if this chapter seems to have a bit of repetitive drama, it is leading up to something good, I promise. Oh and this is a bit AU because I made Harry a quidditch player and said screw the details about Voldemort.... don't kill me...

Chapter Two: Earthquakes of Doubt and Remorse

I was frozen stiff for all of a minute before bidding Warrington and Graham goodnight. I snuck along the walls and got my coat, my eyes never leaving Oliver's figure. He had lost track of me, thank god, and just as I was about to turn and leave the club, he saw me. "Bugger!" I cursed and ran out of the club.

Before I could even get past the line of those waiting to get in, some one grabbed me. "Oh my god! You are Morgana Montague! The best beater the Yanks has ever had. You're gorgeous! Please! Can I have your autograph!" It was a teenager girl, barely old enough to get into the club, probably would get turned away, waiting with her boyfriend. She looked ecstatic to be touching me. This is so weird. But I did the best I could.

"Have you ever heard of Oliver Wood, on Puddlemere?"

"Duh!" she answered, her smiling looking like it would seep off her face.

I glanced over towards the entrance and saw Oliver coming out, "he is going to pass her in like ten seconds. I know for a fact he will love to sign anything for you."

"Really?!"

"Oh yeah. I have to run now, goodbye!"

"Bye!" she shouted after me. "What should I say?"

I smirked I am so evil for telling her this but, "tell him Morgana sent you!" then I turned and bolted towards Central Park, which wasn't far.

Minutes later, thanks to my brilliant planning, I was cold, walking in a nice dress and alone in a dark Central Park. Great. But this was bad. Oh so bad. The only time I ever planned on seeing Oliver again was on the cover of magazine. I know that since he saw me, he will talk to me. Find me and we will fight. No sweet long lost lover's reunion. Arguments. I closed my eyes as I thought about it. I had for all these years imagined his sweet Scottish accent and blocked out the memories of the bitter exchanges with the sweet nothing I had hated at the time. He had tried to contact me, that I know. By the end of my first year with the Yanks, Graham had had approximately 37 letters redirected to him. I have never read them. He brought them to New York and I am sure they are in a box somewhere but . . . what made this bitter sighting worse, was that Oliver was even more gorgeous than the last time I laid eyes on him.

"Morgana!" I was ripped out of my pensive state as someone called my name. I spun around and feared the worst but was surprised to see a man I didn't recognize coming towards me.

"Who are you?" I said sharply. He came closer and I discovered he was quite good looking. Spiky black hair, leather pants, stylish green and silver shirt.

"Hey, I am a friend of Graham's," he said, catching his breath.

"That isn't your name I am sure."

He just smiled at me, "You are as sharp as Graham says you are. My name is Jack."

"Muggle? American?" I asked. Even after years in America, I still has that slytherin way of demanding people's profile.

He just smiled, "Wizard, thank you very much and so what if I'm American."

"Just wanted to know," I snapped. I wasn't in a good mood.

"Come on, Graham and Adrian sent me to get you, take you back to your apartment. You know, they thought you might –"

"Need a man?" I finished sourly. "I am probably in better shape than you are." this whole Oliver thing had me really sour.

"I don't doubt it. They just told me to come check on you because you might need it. I didn't have time for the details."

Behind Jack, I saw Oliver coming into the park. "Let's go," I said grabbing his arm. "I have to get back, practice at five."

"Oh um, okay," he seemed surprised by how quickly I suddenly demanded to leave. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Oliver stop his run and stare at me. I just turned away. I wanted a hot bath.

Once we reached the apartment Jack asked if I wanted him to stay. I said thanks and tell Graham not to worry. He left and I fell into a hot bath tub. I couldn't stay there as long as I would have liked because thoughts of Oliver crept in. Finally, at about 3 AM. I jerked out of the tub and collapsed onto my bed.

"I am fine," I told myself. "I don't care that he is back in my life. After the game next week he will leave and I will never see him again. I will be fine. I am fine! I feel nothing for Oliver Wood." I rolled onto my stomach, "it has been six years for god's sake . . . but why do I feel like it's only been a few weeks." I don't know how the six years I had spent here suddenly turned into six weeks and I felt like just a school girl again. Before I could continue my monologue, I fell asleep.

The next morning Adrian and I had to get up at 5AM as usual. Graham went through his ritual of yelling at us then falling back asleep and we went through the ritual of trying to get our stuff together and get the subway on time. Once we finally got onto the subway we ran into a few of our teammates, Richard Kent and Luke James. Both were renowned American hearthrobs whom had joined the team same year we did. Richard was a chaser and Luke was our seeker. Richard was the more, all American, tall, dark, handsome muscular type of guy while Luke was incredibly cute but light, fast and a bit gangly.

Just as Adrian and I were about to say good morning, they nearly ran us over trying to show us an article. "Look at this!" Richard screamed.

"What?" I asked showing him away so I could get some personal space.

"Read it!"

"'Puddlemere confident in conquering the yanks'" Adrian read. "'Captain Oliver Wood said quote, I played against Pucey, Montague and Flint in school and I have watched their games over the years. We can beat them. End quote.'"

"You guys know this Wood guy?" Luke asked.

"Yeah," Adrian said glancing at me. "We were in slytherin house, he was in gryffindor house."

"Oh yeah," Luke said nodding, "you told us about that house system and rivalry thing, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Adrian said. "I think we know some people on that team that used to be in our house. Warrington was a good friend of ours."

"Come on," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder as we approached our stop. "We better hurry. I am sure coach will lecture us beyond belief. But if they think they can just waltz over to this continent and expect to win, they have another thing coming." I must have sounded murderous because Adrian was giving me a look of are-you-okay . . .?

Sure enough, at the stadium, the first stringers (me) and second stringers all met and coach lectured us. First, let me tell you who is on the first string team. Me (beater, Brittish), Adrian Pucey (chaser, Brittish), Marcus Flint (chaser, Brittish), Richard Kent (chaser, American), Luke James (Seeker, American), Alexander Petersen (beater, German), Charlie DeBourdet (keeper, French). I am the only female on the team this season and for three seasons in the past before Charlie came on the team. He is only in his second season and NO ONE understands him through his accent. His real name is Charles but we picked on him because he was new so we call him Charlie. Alex is my fellow beater and we were forced to bond pretty much. Whenever we go out together in groups he acts like my body guard. He is very tall, buff, quiet and very quick to anger. Typical German. The fans for some reason love his accent.

"Now," Coach Parker said in a surprisingly loud voice coming from a short, fat wizard. "Puddlemere has given the newspaper some articles and unofficially challenged our abilities as I am sure you are all aware of. We are going to make them eat their words!" Everyone roared in response. "But," he said raising a hand, "we will have to practice strenuously until the game. I want everyone to be vicious. Let's look at their line up. Most of their players came out of Hogwarts so Montague, Pucey and Flint, you should recognize them. Oliver Wood, captain and keeper probably one of their strongest. Carl Warrington is a vicious chaser."

"Wait," Adrian said. "When Warrington played with us he was a seeker!"

"Last year in school, got on the team as a chaser," Marcus said to him.

"That bastard!" Adrian shouted. "I could kick his ass when he was a seeker."

"Moving on," Coach said. "Seamus Finnegan and Harry Potter are also strong players but it think our best strategy will be taking out their seeker as fast as possible." Let me explain for a moment. You must be thinking what is the-boy-who-lived doing on a quidditch team. Well he got sick auror training after about two years and next thing we know, just this season he going pro-quidditch. I swear it was fixed or a favor. And as for Finnegan, he slaughtered Malfoy in their seventh year quidditch cup match and got a scholarship onto Puddlemere. The two players were Irish and one was Scottish. Coach went on for about ten more minutes about how important it was to be vicious. Then we were released on the pitch and trained, long and hard until midday.

After getting out of the locker room (I still do not understand why I have to share lockerrooms with guys. The most sexist fucking thing I swear to god . . .) Richard asked us all what our plans were for the rest of the day. "Nothing," Adrian said with a shrug.

"You should take a shower," I said with a smirk.

"Hey," he playfully smacked me.

Alex glared at him, "It is bad tso hit gierls."

"You have a stick up your ass you know that?" Adrian snapped.

I saw Marcus open his mouth to say something but I knew it wasn't something Adrian needed to hear so I elbowed him in the gut.

"Let's all go get some lunch or something. Then some drinks," Richard offered.

"Are you paying?" Luke asked.

"What about fans?" Charlie asked. "What about if they mub us?" he was the only one who was really worried about our celebrity. For the record we probably should take it into consideration more but, we don't. Most of the times it doesn't make any difference but over the years some interesting situations have come up. I will leave it at that. When there is a lot of hype, all we have to do is go to a muggle place and its like we are just some soccer players. "Dude, shut up," Richard said. "You don't have to come."

I rolled my eyes. "You sound so immature."

"You need some drinks in you," Luke said smacking me on the back

"Why not, Morgana?" Marcus said with a jokingly perverted grin.

I glared at him and we all entered the diner.

We all sat down and the waitress seemed starstruck. "Hey, Morgana," Adrian leaned towards me.

"What?"

"What'd you think of Jack?"

"What do you mean?" I asked with a raise of my eyebrows. "He was nice. Are you implying something?"

"Cute huh?" he waggled his eyebrows out me.

"Get a life, Adrian," I said and took a drink of water.

"You're the one who needs a life," he told me. "Marcus has only been here what, six months and he already has a girlfriend."

I nearly spit out my diet coke, "He does?!" Adrian gestured towards the door.

A girl walked in, very very pretty and totally American. Marcus saw her and gestured for her to come over. She too appeared star struck, came over and introduced herself as Sarah. She was American, like she wouldn't have been. She sat next to Marcus and he looked so . . . happy. Right then and there I had a flashback to our school days. When Marcus forced me to date him so I could stay on the team. The times all of us old slytherins spent together. How I used to avoid Marcus like the plague but also that one afternoon we spent together that was . . . oh god . . . Thinking about this made me think about Oliver. The Oliver I knew back when I was sixteen.

"Dammit," I hissed. "See you guys later," I said, getting up and leaving the diner.

"Oh god," I heard Sarah say. "Did I say something to offend her?" I thought you were born bitch, but I knew that was blowing things out of proportion but . . . as I entered the subway station it hit me . . . I was jealous. Jealous of what I had.

I sat on the subway and just thought about it. I was in a bit of a daze all the way from the subway station to my apartment building. I was so far in a daze that I wasn't even surprised when I saw Jack outside my building with flowers. "Hey," I said reaching for my key.

Upon seeing my expression, Jack's face instantly fell. "What's wrong?"

"Lots for things!" I shouted as I ran up the stairs to my apartment. He ran to keep up.

"Want to talk about it?"

I shouldn't have said anything but I did. Probably more for myself, because I needed the explanation. "Six fucking years. You think I would have learned to cope without these feelings. I should be happy but the second he comes to town, I realize that they have only grown and I also get the priviledge of realizing –" I stopped myself and fell against the door. Jack finally made it up the stairs, panting and crouched next to me. "You realize what?"

"That I am lonely," I whispered.

Jack placed the flowers down and pulled me into a big hug. "Mind telling me who this guy is?"

"Take a guess," I said pulling the skin around my eyes so I didn't come close to crying.

"Marcus Flint?"

"NO!" I shouted, sharper and quicker than even I expected.

"Okay . . . Alexander Petersen?"

"Oh god you are so far off," I said shaking my head and opening the door to my apartment.

"Well then tell me!"

I smirked, even in the face of an emotional dilemma, my slytherin sarcasm still shined brightly. "Oliver Wood."

His jaw dropped, "No way. You're are involved with Oliver Wood? How?"

"Long story," I said collapsing onto the couch.

"I have I time," he said pulling up a chair.

I smirked and began to tell him the story of the Slytherin Beater and the Gryffindor Keeper. As I finished, I felt like some sort of weight had been lifted off my chest and jack was nodding.

"It sounds to me," he began. "That you need to confront him."

"What?" I asked flatly.

"Your relationship with him never ended. You owe him some answers. You owe it to yourself to see the man that still has your heart in his hands."

"How muggle-poetic," I said rolling my eyes.

Jack shrugged, "My mother was a muggle literature teacher."

"My parents are still in England wondering why the hell I have no relationship to write to them about."

He shrugged again, "Maybe if you talked to Oliver, you could find out why. You have to do it for yourself."

I looked at him and gave him a quiet smile. "Thanks. I needed this talk. Means a lot."

"Anytime," he said getting up. "Do you want me to stay?"

I sighed, "No, I actually think that I will just crash and . . . I don't know."

"When was the last time you were back in England?" he asked.

I looked at him, I wasn't expecting it. "Since I left school."

"You might want to think about taking a visit back, you and Graham you know?"

"Why?" I didn't see where he was going.

"Whenever I feel a bit lost, I go back home to see my family."

I looked up at him, "Where is your family?"

"The Bronx and believe me, that is a trip." I chuckled and he left the apartment.

I rolled over onto my bed and lay there for a while. "Now where do I find a super- attractive quidditch star in this city?"

Two days before any big game, all of us first-string yanks have a bit of a tradition. We go out and get bombed, them sleep it off the next day and all the stress is gone by game day because we haven't been sober enough to read the papers, predictions etc. The typical group is, Adrian, Richard, Luke, Alex, Marcus, Graham and I, sometimes Charlie, but not all the time, he is still technically underaged in this country.

Anyway, I thought this would be the best day to try and find Oliver, so when Graham asked what type of club we wanted, I was the first to say the funnest with the best drinks. Everyone agreed and the next thing I know, it is seven and both Adrian and Graham are going through their closets. I was staring at my own clothes wondering what on earth I was going to wear to confront Oliver. Since it was a wizards club, that sounds perverted I know but it means the robes are alright but once you get out of school, Adrian and I discovered that there are some robes that are the norm for adults but they wouldn't dare allow us to wear at school. After we got our first pay checks he made me go shopping and I was staring at some robes from that excursion. Silver and emerald. Hey, we were just out of school, sue us. I didn't wear the robes until three years after I bought them . . . you can contemplate that. Our ride was buzzing.

"Oh my god," Adrian said looking at me. "Where the hell is your makeup?"

"What?" I asked flatly.

"Shit," Graham said coming out of the bathroom. "How are you going to pick up someone in that?"

"What?!" I shouted.

"We have decided," Adrian said while putting on my makeup for me, "that you have been moping for too long. You are a beautiful celebrity and goddammit you will get action!"

"You want it more than I do it seems."

"Almost," Adrian said putting down the lipstick and slapping my arse towards the door.

The guys were all in the limo looking extremely . . . hot, I think is the word. Anyway, they looked like the guys they were in the witch weekly spreads. Luke whistled, "Now why can't we see you more like that, Morgana?"

"Why can't you get laid?"

"Ouch!" Richard hissed and made fun of Luke.

Marcus licked his lips, "I love it, when you're feisty."

I snickered. I wasn't intimidated like I probably should have been. For all the past I have been talking about, I didn't feel uncomfortable even dressed as I was. I felt normal. But something was missing in the back of my mind.

"So you are going to ditch Sarah for a one night stand?" I teased.

"I won't tell on you if you won't," he said.

"Who would you tell on me to?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oliver –" I stabbed Marcus with my heel. They weren't anything sharp, I couldn't walk in those, but I was able to walk in regular heels now, unlike that one Yule Ball incident.

We arrived at the club around 9. There is no Flu Network in New York. Big shocker right? For the main reason that . . . no one has fireplaces .. . . I am totally serious, my first year I desperately looked so Graham could come over .. . none . . . it is insane how much wizards borrow from muggles to blend in. . . But let me just say, these wizard clubs are a trip. They are so vibrant and upbeat . . . it is the Yule Ball, halloween and valentines day all combined with heavy music and lights. God I love my brother's job. If you want a brief description, since he is my brother, he is basically paid to get us to come to clubs. He is paid to get people to show up at clubs, he is successful in a large part because he knows all sorts of quidditch stars. Never say your sister didn't do anything for you.

The line was ridiculous as we entered the club. I heard tons of young witches just screaming our names and it was a bit of a rush which I expressed with a brief raise of my eyebrows. The inside of the club was so thick it was just . . . very American. The ceiling was bewitched to be a starry night sky and the stars were flashing and even changing colors. There were a lot of high profile witches and wizards present. Many journalists and everyone remotely into the sports world and all the fans of course.

"What will you be having to drink?" the bartender asked. His eyes widened as he recognized me. "I am a big fan."

I nodded, "I appreciate it. Please, do you have any butterbeer?"

"Drinking light tonight?" he joked.

"Getting into the mood," I said taking the bottle from him. "Excuse me, sir?" I asked, grasping for his attention once again. "Could you do me a big favor?"

"Anything for the best beater the Yanks has ever had."

I thanked him for the compliment about beater, "Could you tell me if you happen to see any of the Puddlemere players here? Specifically, Oliver Wood."

"I will have to hold back from kicking the shit out of them."

"You can kill Warrington, I only really care about having Wood in tact."

"You got it!"

I wandered around the club and carried on some conversations with some acquaintances. Graham introduced me to all his friends. He has too many friends. The owner of the team was there. But it was about an hour later when I had seen no sign of Oliver or any Puddlemere players and I was a bit irritated. Sure there were tons of clubs in New York but I needed him to show up at this one. I asked the bartender for some cigarettes and I left the club, needed to get some fresh air and nicotine. Yes I still smoke . . . not often mostly for lack of time. Of course, knowing my great timing, just as I excited out the back, the Puddlemere players entered. Only later did I discover that when Oliver Wood slunked over the bar, asking for something to drink while his teammates mingled, the bartender informed him that I had been looking for him.

I walked along the sidewalk, staring up at the lights of the city. Suddenly, I heard someone calling my name. I turned on my heels and saw the most unexpected person running towards me. Oliver Wood. I was frozen and he just came closer.

"Morgana," he whispered as he came up to me.

"Oliver," I said.

We stood in silence for a moment.

"This is a very strange reunion," I said and scratched behind my neck, hoping I wouldn't burn my hair. I hadn't planned it like this. Something of a . .. . well I hadn't thought about the starting gate. More like the drive. Oh and I realized the planning for the end had evaded me as well.

"Why, Morgana?" he asked me.

"Why what?"

"Why were you looking for me?"

"I wanted to talk . . ."

"So talk!"

I sighed, "You look great, Oliver."

He looked me up and down. "I never thought I would be seeing Morgana Montague in something like this."

"I have been keeping track of you," I said trying to get somewhere but I was only going into a hole.

"What the hell gives you the right to make small talk like this, Morgana?"

"I'm sorry, Oliver," I said looking away.

"You're sorry?!" he said in disbelief. "I haven't heard from you in SIX YEARS, Morgana! I see you in the hallways then the next day I discover you and Pucey have left for the United States. I wrote to you everyday for four years! I followed your scores, I . . .did you lose all the love in your heart? Or are you married to Flint or Bole? Maybe Pucey, I heard you live with him."

"Don't get bitter,"I said. "Married to Flint? Are you insane? He has an American girlfriend and I never felt ANY romantic attraction towards him. Derek? I haven't seen Derek since last Christmas and Adrian is 100 gay!"

"Really?" Oliver said surprise. "Pucey's gay?"

"Oh yeah, more boys in his room than mine," I said nodding.

Oliver laughed. But as he realized we were still fighting, he stopped. "How do you feel about me, Morgana. After six years . . . is there anything left between us?"

I got into the heat of the moment and when you do so, often you say what you really feel. "I love you, Oliver! With the same intensity that I felt the day I left. You know it killed me to leave! But I didn't want you to be weighed down. I knew you wanted to play on Puddlemere and do you think I could have followed you? It wouldn't have work and it killed me because I loved you then and I have been pretending I feel nothing for years! But . . . I do . . ." I looked at him with eyes glassing over.

Oliver seem struck into silence.

"This is so hard," I said taking a deep breath. "We are older now, Oliver and . . . maybe . . . if you still feel anything for me, we can try again . . ."

Oliver shook his head and ran a hand through his short brown hair. "This is five years too late, Morgana."

"What do you mean?"

"I," he laughed nervously, "I am engaged, Morgana. Five years and nothing . . . was too much." He at me genuinely and said, "I am sorry."

I was crushed. I had been hit with an earthquake of remorse. Engaged? No . . . Oliver couldn't . . . No. "I am sorry," he said again and turned, and walked away. I watched him go and I felt tears in my eyes. I was imagining Oliver happy with someone else. Someone more beautiful than I, nicer, better in every way. It killed me inside, poisoned me.

I felt tears roll down my cheek. No, I wasn't going to just lie down. There . .. I couldn't believe it and I wouldn't believe it. I wasn't going to lie down and take this. There had to be something I could do. But before that, I went back to the club, drying my tears and looking for a lay to take my mind of it.

Author's Note: sorry this took forever. It was very long and I have school, so that is excuse. I want to thank everyone for feedback. Thank you so much and I hoped you liked this chapter! I love hearing all of your comments and opinions. See you in the next chapter!