Maintaining Conscious Thought

Oliver and I were sitting in the bleachers of the Quidditch pitch, staring out across the pitch. His arm was around me, and I was leaning into him. We were holding a comfortable silence between us, presently. Until Oliver broke it.

"I'm older than you, Kates," he said softly.

I looked at him weirdly. I, of course, knew that. "I know that, Oliver," I expressed.

"Too much older."

"'Too much older' would be like … six years or something. We're only two years apart."

"I'm to leave school once this year is over, Kates."

I looked at the floor. "I know that too, Oliver."

"I forget how young you are when I'm with you, you know that? You're so … I don't know. You don't act fifteen at all. But the bad thing is, Kates … urgh." He looked away as I had done. "The fact is, I'm legal and you're not."

I looked at him in shock, then after a moment, laughed lightly. His gaze switched from the floor to my eyes. He'd donned a defiant expression. I chose not to say anything.

"With my upbringing, you should know I feel wrong every time I kiss you."

"Then don't." My voice was cold, and expressionless. "Don't kiss me."

"I've upset you. I'm sorry. But Kates, you have to understand … my parents … if they ever found out I was dating someone underage …"

"Even if they knew it was me?"

"Yes."

"You were the one that started this," I stated. "If you want to stop, then stop."

He looked at me desperately. "I can't."

"What do you mean?"

"If I could stop loving you, I would."

His statement hit me with the force of a cannon ball to the stomach.

… Just not quite so painful.

"What?" I breathed.

His eyes were determined, but I could tell he was furious with himself for bringing this up.

"Never mind," he muttered. He took his arm away from me, and he sat forward on the bench.

"No, Oliver. You just pretty much said you loved me."

He put his face in his hands. "I did, didn't I?" He looked up at me, eyes soft.

"Do you?" I asked in utter shock.

His eyes studied mine for a while, and then, slowly, he nodded.

We were only a few weeks into our relationship, and he says he loves me? How very brilliant. How absolutely peachy. I screamed internally.

"Kates …" He seemed to be thinking very hard as I looked at him.

"Hm?"

"I don't want to lose you, but you have to understand I can't … I can't do this right now." His voice was just above a whisper. "I'm in love with you, Kates, but I can't be in this relationship until you're old enough."

And with that said, he left.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

It had been a month since Oliver and I had had that conversation, and I was just as miserable as I had been back then. I hadn't spoken to him directly since. I just couldn't bear it. He'd said he loved me, but he didn't want to be with me.

My friends had been very happy I had at last accepted my position as Chaser again. I had only gone back because without it, I would never see Oliver.

He didn't take it very well when I told Alicia to tell him he didn't need to find another Chaser. She said he'd yelled at her because I should have told him, not her. But I didn't want to be close to him. I knew my hormones would get the better of me, and I'd want to jump his bones.

I was pathetic. I knew that. But after all, I did love the guy.

That was a rather unpleasant discovery of mine. I loved him, he loved me, and he dumped me.

I knew I was getting on every one of my friends nerves, acting as if someone had died – but Oliver Wood was a loss. He could have been mine if I was just a little older, and I was sorry if I'd acted just a little sad about that. But I couldn't help it, and they'd just have to deal with that.

Sigh.

"Bell, practice tonight. Seven PM." Oliver had walked past me and said this in my ear, then he walked off, not looking back.

I see we've reverted back to our impersonal names for each other. Bell and Wood.

Sigh.

My life wasn't going very well lately. Not at all.

I looked at my watch. Classes had just finished, so it was a quarter to five. I had about an hour to do some of my homework I'd been planning to do before practice. I'd just received a rather unpleasant essay to do from Professor Snape on squeeweedling. I rushed back upstairs to the Common room, determined to get that essay done, and hopefully start another.

I had successfully acquired myself an armchair by the fire and had settled down with my books out and my quill readily inked.

I wrote the title – Squeeweedling: Its Properties and Uses in Potions.

I underlined it.

Twice.

Then I realised I didn't know the first thing about squeeweedling. I hadn't listened in class at all today.

I sighed once again.

"Quit your sighing, Katie Bell." Angelina came and sat on the armchair to the left of me.

I shook my head at her. "Do you know what squeeweedling is?"

"No idea. I was passing notes to Fred all last period."

"Great." I sighed again, and closed my book. I picked up my Transfiguration book, ripped off the heading I had written, and wrote a new one – Advanced Transfiguration of Animals to Inanimate Objects.

"You need to put what happened between you and Oliver behind you, Katie."

I looked at her. Her face was set, and I knew if I said anything wrong, I'd be sorry.

"I know." It was a simple answer, and it didn't seem to make her mad. "It's difficult though, Ange."

Her face softened slightly. She'd heard this before, but I could tell she sympathised with me.

"I love him. I never even got a chance to tell him that while we were together. He said he loved me, and then he left me. I know it sounds melodramatic of me, but I feel heartbroken."

"Katie, you just have to try and stop feeling like you do. It's not doing you any good. And it certainly isn't making Oliver feel any better about anything. He feels so guilty, Katie."

"Good," I muttered quietly, looking scorn.

"You don't mean that."

I sighed again.

"I know. I don't." I ran my fingers through my hair. "I just hope he's suffering as much as I am."

"He hasn't been talking much." This statement seemed to hang in the air for a moment.

"And..?"

"I … nothing."

"Ange, what's wrong with him?"

I was beginning to worry about the bastard.

I didn't mean that.

Sigh.

"I don't know."

"Is he sick?"

"No …"

"What, then?"

She sighed and looked at me seriously. "He won't tell us, but I know it's something."

It was a sighing day for me.

"Is this why you brought it up? Because you thought he'd tell me?"

She looked faintly guilty for a second. "We're worried about him, Katie. We thought that since the problem is obviously to do with you, if you talked it out …"

"It could be to do with something else," I said defensively.

"It's almost always about you in Oliver's eyes, Katie. You're all that matters to him. Will you just realise that, and go talk to him? For all our sakes."

My eyes were downcast. "I don't see why I'm so important to him," I muttered as I stood up and headed to the boy's dorm stairs.

"Because he loves you," Angelina called. I rolled my eyes.

"He has a funny way of showing it."

"It's Oliver, Katie."

I sighed, and ran up the stairs to Oliver's dormitory.

The door was closed, and I rapped my knuckles on the wood.

"Come in," Oliver's voice called. I opened the door, and looked around the room for him. He was at a table across the room, his back to the door. He was hunched over some parchment, and his quill was scribbling away.

I made my way across the room, and stopped to the left of him. He glanced up, then looked back down at his parchment, quill writing little notes all over again.

"What?" he asked stiffly.

I hadn't thought this far, really. I almost laughed.

"I … Ange said that you weren't yourself."

He rolled his eyes up at me. "I'm fine."

I squinted my eyes at him. "No you're not."

"I assure you, I'm alright," he said, a little angrily.

I didn't like his tone.

"Don't talk to me like that," I said, raising my eyebrows at him.

He exhaled heavily, and turned in his chair to look at me, putting his quill down.

"Do I look sick?"

"Do I look stupid?" I refuted.

He looked at me angrily. I knew he was tempted to say yes.

"Why are you acting like this?" I demanded, falling to my knees in front of him to look him dead in the eyes.

He stared over my head across the room. "Because I don't know how else to act."

His admittance rang out in the room.

"You could act the way you should when you love someone," I snapped, my eyebrows knitting together in a frown.

His eyes met mine. "You act so much older than fifteen," he sighed.

"That should be enough for you, Wood. I guess I'll never be enough."

I was surprised I wasn't crying by now.

"You're so much more than enough, Kates."

"Then my age shouldn't matter!"

"But it does." His voice cracked as he spoke.

I glared at him. "Whatever. Stop acting so … oh, however you're acting, and upsetting our friends, alright?"

"I could say the same for you."

"I have the right to act the way I am. You dumped me."

"I didn't want to."

"And you think that makes a difference? I don't care whether you wanted to or not, Wood. You still did. Now, I want to know what's wrong with you."

"Fine, Kates. You really want to know? A girl asked me out, and I said yes."

I stared at him. He could not be that cruel. But he wasn't lying.

"Who?" My voice was choked.

He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Who?" I asked angrily, and more forcefully.

"Get to fuck, Kates. I'm not telling you that."

All I saw before my eyes was blind rage. I stormed from the room, and ran. I ran as fast as I could. I didn't even know where I was going. I just ran. And ran. And ran.

I didn't realise someone was following me until I felt a hand on my arm when I stopped beside the Lake in the grounds.

"You run fast, girl," George panted.

I collapsed on the ground, finally allowing myself to cry.

"What happened, Katie?" he gasped, sitting beside me, and gathering me up in his arms.

"Alicia would be so jealous of me right now." I sobbed slightly through my smile.

He looked at me weirdly.

"Oliver's going out with another girl," I said changing the subject, and sobbing harder, without the smile.

"Oh, Kat," he sighed, hugging me closer. I sobbed into his chest, gasping for breath. He wiped my tears away. I wondered vaguely if he'd ever comforted a girl when she was crying – he was good at it.

I stopped myself crying, and only the occasional pathetic hiccough escaped my lips. I must be a total mess. Thankfully, George didn't mention this. In fact, he said the opposite.

"He must be totally insane to dump such a beautiful, smart girl like you, Katie. He doesn't deserve you at all," he said, rubbing my back, and wiping the tears that had cascaded down my cheeks away.

"Alicia's lucky to have you, George," I smiled faintly. He laughed a bit, moving the hair that was in my face away.

"I'm lucky to have her, you mean."

I grinned, my breathing finally returning to normal.

"Thanks for following me, George. And putting up with my crying."

"That's what friends are for," he smiled. I hugged him tighter, then let go, standing up, brushing myself off from sitting on the ground.

"Ready for practice?" I said, glancing at my watch, which read twenty to seven.

George raised his eyebrows at me. People were doing that a lot lately.

"You're going?" His voice was sceptical.

"He's not winning, George. I refuse to let him. He will not get the better of me. He also won't know I cried over him. Right, George?"

He looked at me. "I won't tell anyone you were crying, Kat." He smiled. "You're too proud."

"Too stubborn, rather," I smiled

"That too." He stood up, and took my hand. "You'll be alright, Katie. Oliver will come to his senses eventually."

I knew that would be very unlikely, but it was nice of him to comfort me.

"Thank you, George," I said, hugging him again. He kissed my hair, and we made our way back up to the castle to get our practice clothes.

&&&&&&&&&&&&