I would be calm.
I would be collected.
I would be effortlessly good looking and flaunt it in Oliver's face.
I would pretend I didn't care.
I was going to be the best fake-fiancé on the planet and then I was going to leave with my dignity intact and go back to my life in London.
I was dressed in the prettiest outfit I still owned when Oliver got back, a fitted blue top tucked into a floaty black skirt, my waist emphasised by a delicate silver chain belt. I was sipping weak tea laced with one of Miriam's miracle cures, meant for flu but worked just as well for hangovers. Miriam glanced up from her stance at the sink as Oliver walked through the kitchen door.
"How was training?" She asked him as he shot an obvious glance in my direction and then looked away quickly.
"It was... good." He said distractedly, dumping his bag on the floor and summoning a bottle of water. I watched, mesmerised, as he pulled off the cap and started gulping it down, his tanned skin gleaming with the efforts of his recent exertion. I shook myself internally and forced myself to look away.
"If you don't mind dears, I'm just going to pop out for a bit. Poor Augusta got into a bit of a pickle with some Baruffio's Brain Elixir and she's had to be admitted to St Mungo's so they can stop the swelling. Her cat needs feeding and I said I'd check on her greenhouse too, the Fanged Geranium does have a tendency to get antsy if it's left unwatered." She smiled innocently and walked out, leaving behind a very heavy, very awkward silence.
"Feeling okay today?" I asked Oliver sweetly. He looked confused as he sank slowly into a chair at the table.
"Fine, I suppose. Coach is pushing us hard to do well in next week's match, there's no time to slack off because of a hangover." The lines of confusion crinkling his forehead were surprisingly cute – I had to steel myself and not get distracted by them. I continued to smile at him as I finished my tea. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, obviously struggling to know what to say. I decided to take pity on him.
"Look Oliver, last night was a really stupid mistake. I guess we'd just had too much to drink and what can I say, I guess you were there in my time of need." I stressed the last word and he blushed scarlet, seemingly not realising I was parroting his own words back to him. My irritation rose as I continued:
"I just forgot myself, forgot who I was there with. I'm so used to just letting go of my inhibitions and enjoying myself at those things, I really should have controlled myself better. I hope we can move on from this, I really do want to be your friend." My smile felt frozen on my face as Oliver visibly relaxed opposite me. My heart plummeted a thousand feet at lightning speed as he smiled back at me, relief written across his face.
"I'd like to be your friend, Georgie." He said softly, the big smile on his face that scrunched up his eyes bringing back the fluttering sensation in my tummy, the one I had thought had been brought on by a lethal mix of alcohol and sexual tension. Mid-hangover and post-sex, it was back.
"I need to go and shower, I stink." Oliver laughed, standing up and moving towards the door. I forced a small laugh of my own as I watched him go, paralysed by the revelation dawning on me.
I was falling in love with Oliver Wood.
I was going to marry Oliver Wood in three months.
And Oliver Wood did not love me back.
I maintained a friendly, if somewhat detached, attitude towards Oliver for the next week. It helped that he was spending all of his time training like crazy for his match against the Tornadoes, meaning he was hardly ever in and when he was he was too tired to notice the cracks in my façade. I ate breakfast with him sometimes when I was awake before he left, I became a willing audience for him to test out explaining Quidditch plays to and I planned our wedding, trying to keep as many details of the event from him as possible; not so that it would be a surprise but because any mention of the wedding caused him to sink into a bad mood, with nothing but Quidditch able to pull him out of his funk.
Miriam, however, was not as easy to fool.
"It was just one of things Miriam. Me and Oliver are just friends, honestly." I told her as I helped her fold laundered clothes on Friday. She looked sceptical but she didn't argue with me. We had avoided discussing the night of the Christmas Ball, mostly out of extreme embarrassment and partly because remembering the night cause me physical pain in my chest - brought on by the combination of the perfection of our intimacy and the callous, dismissive tone of Oliver's words the following morning.
"Oliver has got us box tickets for tomorrow. I thought you might like to see him play. This is his biggest match yet, he's been preparing for this for weeks." I smiled weakly at Miriam as she spoke– I wanted nothing more than to see Oliver's muscled body clad in tight Quidditch robes on a broomstick, that was the problem.
"I suppose if he wants me to go…" I tailed off, hoping a way out would present itself.
"I'm sure he does but more importantly, I want you to go." Miriam said firmly, "I hate going to those games alone, all that noise and bustle is enough to give an old woman a heart attack. You wouldn't leave me alone to battle through hoards of screaming fans to get to my seat, would you?" She snuck a side glance at me and I realised I was being emotionally blackmailed - successfully too.
"Fine, I'll go with you." I sighed and she beamed at me.
"You're going to love it. Now these clothes here are yours, I'll put Oliver's away. I swear, when that boy moves out he'll have to have a house-elf, he's such a slob." She tutted and moved towards the stairs while I giggled slightly, the secret of Oliver's abnormally clean room uncovered.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Puddlemere United chasers: Clearwater! Harrow! Aaaaaaand – Spied!"
The chasers streaked out onto the pitch, clad in blue and gold. My eyes followed Charley Clearwater from my vantage point in the top box, watching as her slender form contorted as she played tricks for the crowd. The blue and gold uniform set off her vivid hair perfectly and the form-fitting robes displayed her greatest assets perfectly. The material clung to her large breasts, highlighting the slenderness of her waist and elongated her already long legs. It was easy to see how Oliver had fallen for her charms.
"Arguably the best Beater duo in the Quidditch League: Clapham and Clapham!"
Eric, the one who started the drinking contest at the Christmas party, sped onto the pitch with his brother Mark. From this distance they looked absolutely identical, something that must have worked in their favour for confusing the opposition.
"Aaaaand finally I give you Puddlemere's newest player, Keeper Wood! Accompanied by Seeker and Captain, Dolsky!" The roars of the crowd swelled louder as Oliver and the Captain, a tiny girl with shiny brown hair, sped out. Her timid, girly appearance was entirely deceptive – she could drink like a trooper, had no problems controlling an unruly Quidditch team and had a long term girlfriend. She was one of the youngest Captains in professional Quidditch and one of the only female Captains in Europe.
In short, that girl seriously rocked.
The sound of the commentator announcing the rival team, dressed in white with sky blue accents, was lost on me as I focused my gaze on Oliver. His dark hair ruffled in the breeze as he zoomed around the goals, his expression one of complete focus. His sports robes emphasised the broadness of his shoulders and the tight trousers displayed his toned buttocks in a manner I almost deemed inappropriate, had I not been enjoying the view far too much to have any legitimate complaints.
A small, skinny wizard wearing black robes with a white trim strode out onto the field, carrying a large wooden crate under one arm. He blew his whistle sharply three times and pulled open the lid of the crate and four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and a flash of gold I could only assume was the Snitch.
"They're off!" Yelled the commentator. "And Puddlemere takes possession of the Quaffle, its Harrow! Spied! Back to Harrow! To Clearwater – and there's an interception by the Tornadoes!"
This was Quidditch far beyond the level of Hogwart's school games. The players were inhumanly fast, throwing the Quaffle with such speed that the commentator barely had time to say their names before the ball was passed on.
"And Puddlemere regain possession!" The three chasers in blue bore down the pitch at high speed. Charley Clearwater, in possession of the Quaffle, made as though to dart upwards, confusing the defending Tornadoes Chaser and dropped the Quaffle to Harrow. As he closed in on the goals, Eric swung hard at a Bludger, causing the Tornadoes Keeper to sloth roll to avoid being hit. Harrow took advantage of his distraction and hurled the Quaffle towards the goals.
"HARROW SCORES! 10-0 to Puddlemere!" The commentator yelled excitedly as the stadium thundered with applause and cheers.
I knew enough about Quidditch to know that the Tornadoes were amazing but that Puddlemere was better, a result of all the hard work they had been putting in so far in the season. They worked together smoothly as a team and within 20 minutes had scored another 3 times. Miriam danced with delight in the plush seat next me at each goal, a proud smile spread across her face.
As the match wore on, the tactics became dirtier. The Clapham twins were whacking Bludgers fiercely at the Tornadoes Chasers and were managing to prevent them from using their best moves, until finally a Tornado Chaser slipped past them and managed to dodge Oliver, scoring the Tornadoes first goal of the match. Their supporters at the far end of the stadium rose in a mass of sky blue and white, celebrating loudly.
Oliver's face was nearly purple with anger and I could see his stern expression even being so far away from him. His style of playing became more forceful; he punched and kicked away the incoming Quaffle with such force I was surprised the ball didn't explode. After another hour of frantic playing, during which Spied had his nose broken by a Bludger, Charley committed three fouls, Oliver blocked all of the subsequent penalty shots and the Chasers managed to score several more times, a collective scream range out through the stadium.
The two seekers, both blurs of colour they were moving so fast, were speeding towards the Puddlemere goalposts, arms outstretched. A tiny glint of gold danced around Oliver's ankles and in a sickening moment I realised what was about to happen. The Seekers collided into Oliver and the goalposts, falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and brooms. I didn't realise I was on my feet until I felt the gentle pressure of Miriam's hand on my elbow, stopping me from falling out of the box by leaning to far over. The figures on the ground stirred feebly as the medics rushed over and the players in the air hung still, all watching their teammates below, the Quaffle abandoned. As the figures were taken of the pitch by levitated stretchers the commentator tentatively spoke.
"I have just been informed that the Puddlemere Seeker Dolsky has caught the Snitch! Puddlemere wins!" The stadium was silent in shock for a moment and then a slow rumble spread through the stands, building into a raucous chorus of excited cheers and jubilant shrieks of victory. I dodged celebrating fans as I raced down the steps after Miriam, heading for the medic room.
Oliver was lain out on a bed, curtained off from the other players. Anna Dolsky was holding a bloody towel to her mouth, the glinting Snitch still clutched in her fist. The Tornadoes' seeker was motionless on the other bed, seemingly having been knocked unconscious.
"Oliver! Are you okay?!" Miriam's voice was verging on hysterical as she descended on him. His face was pale with pain as he clutched his ankle.
"I'll be fine Mum, it's a shattered ankle. Some Skelegrow and a few hours in bed and I'll be good as new." His smile was more of a grimace but Miriam seemed calmer. She sank into the chair next to him. A Medi-wizard in green robes bustled over, holding a goblet of steaming liquid.
"This is just something for the pain, Mr Wood, and we'll send you home with a dose of Skelegrow. Take it just before you go to bed and your bones will have healed by the morning. We do suggest you spend the day in bed tomorrow, just as a precautionary measure in case your bones are not as strong initially." He handed Miriam a flask, watched as Oliver downed the contents of the goblet and cleared him to go. As he rose from the bed, I moved forwards to take his weight.
"I'll Apparate him home Miriam, we'll meet you there." She nodded gratefully; she would have been unable to help him stand let alone transport him home.
I pulled Oliver closer to me as Miriam Dis-apparated away. His eyes were drooping as the painkillers made him sleepy and he sighed gently, wrapping his arm more securely around me into a warped half-hug. I locked my arms in place and Apparated, hoping the uncomfortable, breath-taking squeezing sensation wouldn't have any adverse effects on Oliver.
I staggered heavily as we landed in the lounge, Oliver pale and now unconscious next to me. Miriam hurried forward, wand aloft to levitate him up the stairs. His limp form gently navigated the three flights of stairs and I hurried up after Miriam, grabbing the flask of Skelegrow.
"I'm going to go and lock up, will you make sure he drinks this?" Miriam whispered to me as she edged back out the door. I nodded and moved towards the bed. The mere sight of it made me blush and I was glad Miriam had left, sparing me any awkward moments.
"Oliver?" I muttered, leaning over his sprawled form. He grunted in response.
"Oliver, you need to take this, remember?" There was no response so I set the flask down on his bedside table and gripped his shoulders, forcing him into a sitting position. His eyes fluttered open, glazed over with sleepiness and Pain-Ease potion. He smiled sweetly at me and my heart fluttered in my chest.
"You look cute when you're worried." He mumbled, reaching for the flask. I was silent as I watched him drain the contents of it, unsure of how to answer. He pulled a face as he passed it back to me.
"Nasty stuff." Oliver shuddered and I stood to leave.
"No, stay Georgie. Please."2 He protested and I turned. He was half asleep already, one arm stretched out towards me. I sank down onto the edge of the bed and he wrapped his fingers around mine.
"You need to go to sleep Oliver, before the stabbing pains kick in." I told him gently, pushing the hair off his face. He leaned into my hand and sighed.
"I wish things were different Georgie. I wish I could have taken you on a date. You could have dressed up all pretty, we could have gone to Madame Puddifoots and done all that other mushy crap…" He tailed off, eyes closing and in a couple of minutes he was snoring softly.
Leaving Oliver sleeping soundly the following morning, Miriam and I decided to start the Christmas shopping. Wrapping myself in a thick coat and knitted scarf, I prepared myself to face the icy weather and descend upon Diagon Alley.
The Leaky Cauldron was packed to the rafters with people avoiding the cold. I was squeezing past the packed table, Miriam in tow when a voice called across the bar.
"Georgie!" Anna Dolsky, captain of Puddlemere United was sitting in a corner booth, accompanied by a willowy blonde. She waved me over and I changed direction. Miriam smiled warmly at her when we reached their table, giving both a hug. Anna introduced her girlfriend, Sophie, and insisted we join her for a drink.
"How's Oliver, Georgie? That was a nasty break he got yesterday." Anna asked, concern creasing her pixie-like features.
"He's fine, dosed up on Skelegrow and sleeping it off. How're you anyway? That was a nasty fall for all of you." I asked, examining her unaltered features as I sipped my Butterbeer and allowed delicious warmth to spread through my cold body.
"I'm fine; I'm still alive so it was nothing major." She waved her hand dismissively, laughing. "Do you fancy another drink?"
"Actually we've got some shopping to do." I answered and after a few more minutes of chatting we left, entering Diagon Alley. The street was heaving with witches and wizards bundled up in heavy cloaks against the cold. Shop windows gleamed brightly as we made our way down the street to join the queues of people waiting to get to their gold in Gringotts. We joined the line behind two young witches, too busy gossiping to notice us.
"…my friend Penelope, her sister is on his Quidditch team, Puddlemere. Apparently he's marrying this heiress girl who's shown up out of the blue. He took her to the Christmas party and nobody had seen her before." One said to the other, her voice anything but quiet. Miriam glanced at me quickly, her lips thinning into a pale line.
"I thought Penelope's sister was getting on that? Didn't she have like, a three year plan or something?" The other replied.
"Yeah she did, she said it was working too. Worst case scenario she was going to fake a pregnancy and get herself hitched that way. I guess she's pretty pissed now this rich bitch has rocked up and taken the coveted bachelor Oliver Wood off the market, he is one hot piece of ass." I had to restrain Miriam from interrupting them, and possibly slapping both of them across the face.
"Miriam, it's not worth it." I hissed under my breath. Her lips were pale and strangely at odds with the rest of her face, which was flushed with anger. The girls in front of us moved towards the desk of a goblin at the end of the row and I tentatively let go of Miriam's arm.
"How dare they!" She fumed as we waited to be called. "And that Charley Clearwater had better hope she doesn't find herself in my presence anytime soon! As if Oliver would ever marry such a horrible girl." She shuddered and I stayed quiet, my indignation at Charley's plans churning my stomach.
Finally we were called towards the desk. The swarthy goblin inspected our keys suspiciously and then led us towards a cart. I clutched Miriam's hand tight as we sped through the twisting tunnels, my breakfast threatening to reappear as we screeched to an abrupt halt.
"Vault 743." The goblin grunted and swung himself off the cart. Miriam followed, pulling her key out of her pocket and inserting it in the lock. The door clicked loudly twice and then swung open, revealing piles of gold and silver, family heirlooms stored in cases or glass cabinets and what looked suspiciously like a solid gold suit of armour resting at the back. I tried not to stare as Miriam scooped coins into a leather bag; luxurious house aside, Oliver and his mother lived modestly – they didn't spend loads on expensive food, Miriam certainly didn't wear high-end robes and I knew that Oliver has more socks with holes in than without. The concept of having money but not spending it was foreign to me – my father had spent most of my childhood lavishing gifts on me to make up for the fact he wasn't really around.
When we pulled up at my personal vault, the one that contained my inheritance from my mother and nothing that had come from the business or my father, I glanced at Miriam. She was tactfully digging through her handbag, looking for some lost item I suspected didn't really exist. I opened the door to my vault and nearly cried. A small pile of Sickles sat in the middle, with a handful of Knuts and a single Galleon next to it.
"Where has all the money gone?!" I asked the goblin hysterically, the blood draining out of my face at an alarmingly rapid speed.
"Lawyer's fees. Someone from the Ministry came to collect what was owed to them." He replied maliciously, a grin on his face.
"I'm supposed to be paying for my wedding soon." I replied, my voice high pitched and rising in volume. The goblin said nothing, so I put the remaining money into my purse and shut the door behind me, the sound echoing through the empty vault. I said nothing to Miriam as we journeyed back to the surface, internally worrying about how I was going to pay for Christmas presents, let alone fund my romantically fictional but financially real wedding.
"So where do you want to start dear? I need to get a couple of books from Flourish and Blotts, and Oliver requested a couple of things from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes…" Miriam started as we left the bank.
"Actually Miriam, I need to run a couple of errands myself, do you mind if I meet you at the Weasley's shop in about an hour?" She agreed, thankfully, and wandered off in the opposite direction. With a sigh, I turned and headed for the ever busy Quality Quidditch Supplies, hoping Cormac McLaggen would be in a good mood today and not try to grope my ass.
