So this is it! The final chapter! Wow.

It has been so much fun writing my first fanfic and I really, really hope you enjoy the conclusion!

A special thanks to my Beta, HermioneLunaPotter, for introducing me to fanfic, encouraging me to write fanfic and for editing this story! Thanks so much lovely! You are the best! xx

And also, thank you for those who have stuck with this story, reviewed, favourited and followed! It means a lot to me and I couldn't have done it without your encouragement!

Btw - if you're interested I will probably be writing another HP fanfic this year. Perhaps a Ginny and Harry one - as they are my favourite ship - right after the war. So, keep a look out!

Anyway, please let me know what your thoughts are and review!

xx

The Match

It was fierce.

As his broom and the energy of the crowd spurned Oliver towards his goalposts, Oliver was forced to skilfully dodge two bludgers hit by the burly Slytherin Beaters. It seemed that Flint was eager to have him out of the match. So, Oliver put on an extra burst of speed, flattening himself against his broom's handle and turned sharply once he was in front of the goal posts so he could observe the match's situation.

Gryffindor were in possession – Alicia had the Quaffle and she was soaring towards the goalposts. Oliver's heart leapt…this would have to be the quickest goal in Hogwarts! Two of the Slytherin Chasers were far behind her, leaving her unrivalled. Yet, as Alicia threw the Quaffle towards an unguarded hoop, Warrington rose up from below and intercepted the ball.

Oliver cursed and gripped his broom tighter – his eyes locked menacingly on Warrington who was tearing up the pitch. Oliver moved out slightly from his position and hovered on his broom, ready to block Warrington's aim. But there was no need, a Bludger sent by one of the twins hit Warrington on his left and he spiralled out of control, dropping the Quaffle.

Johnson was a blur as she caught the dropped Quaffle and raced towards the goals, swerving a fumbling Montague who was no match against her flying skills. The distance was closing between her and the goals and as she threw the Quaffle, the Keeper lunged in the opposite direction…

"SHE SCORES! TEN – ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!" Lee bellowed over the delighted screams of the Gryffindor supporters. Oliver couldn't resist punching his fist in the air in celebration and listening briefly to the commentary, which he normally blocked out to concentrate on the game.

But Oliver's joy was cut short when he saw a green blur, the size of Marcus Flint, smash into Johnson; nearly throwing her off her broom. Oliver began yelling and swearing at the top of his voice and his eyes sought out Madam Hooch; surely she had witnessed the foul – that was a penalty to Gryffindor. And from the shouts below, most of the crowd agreed.

"Sorry!" said Flint. "Sorry, didn't see her!"

Before Oliver could fly over to Flint and punch him, Fred Weasley threw his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head, causing his nose to smash into the handle of his broom and begin to bleed profusely.

Oliver let out a satisfied laugh, until Madam Hooch zoomed between them and shouted, "Penalty to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!"

"What!" screamed Oliver, though he doubted anyone could here him from the other side of the pitch and over the indignant protests of Fred Weasley.

But there was no point arguing with Madam Hooch as Alicia flew up to take the penalty against the opposing Keeper.

"Come on, Alicia," Oliver murmured under his breath as she flew forward…aimed…and scored!

"Yes!" Oliver shouted, losing himself in the excitement of the Quidditch Final. They were twenty points up from Slytherin and there was no way Oliver was going to let them reduce Gryffindor's lead.

Flint, his nose still gushing blood, flew towards the Slytherin end of the pitch to take his team's penalty. Oliver clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes as he faced off his oldest Quidditch nemesis. He hoped his thoughts were conveyed clearly on his face to Flint: there was no way the Quaffle was getting past him, Flint was not going to score – not after what he'd done to Johnson.

In a flash, Flint threw the Quaffle and everything slowed down as Oliver focused on the red ball. In his mind, he foresaw it travelling to the left and so, taking both hands off his broom, he lunged at the Quaffle; pulling it towards his chest. As he caught it, he somersaulted in mid-air, his legs clinging to his broom until Oliver managed to grasp the handle with one arm and steady himself. He'd done it! Slytherin hadn't scored. While the crowd cheered vibrantly below, Oliver gave Flint a smug smile before throwing the Quaffle to an unmarked Bell.

Bell hadn't gotten far when she lost the Quaffle to Warrington, but then Alicia knocked into him, causing him to drop the ball, which was caught again by Bell – now a scarlet blur heading towards the goal posts. Yet, just as this game was proving to be the most intense match ever played at Hogwarts, it was also gaining a reputation as the dirtiest; for Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Bell and instead of seizing the Quaffle, grabbed her head.

Oliver experienced a horrifying sensation as he saw Bell cartwheel in the air. Thankfully, she managed to keep hold of her broom but the Quaffle plummeted to the ground.

Before Oliver could protest, Madam Hooch's whistle rang in the air and she began scolding Montague. Much to Oliver's satisfaction, Bell took the penalty and scored another goal for Gryffindor.

Oliver prepared himself for the next play when he noticed Potter streaking towards his side of the pitch, Malfoy close behind him. Oliver slipped on his broom handle in shock, causing him to descend a few feet…surely Potter remembered that they could only win the Cup if they were more than fifty points up? What was he doing? And with another overwhelming sensation of horror, Oliver saw the Slytherin Beaters – Derrick and Bole – flying towards Potter on either side, their clubs raised. But, at the last minute, Potter turned his Firebolt upwards so that the two Beaters collided painfully.

A smirk spread across Oliver's features at this sight. Meanwhile, Oliver had taken his eyes off the game and caught a fleeting glimpse of Flint flying towards him. His blood turned to ice as he prepared himself for Flint's move, but he was too late – his fingers grazed the ball before it flew into the middle hoop.

Now, the Slytherins had an opportunity to cheer while Oliver reproached himself for losing his attention. It was such an amateur mistake…how could he be so careless? Because of him, the score was thirty – ten.

It seemed that Oliver was not the only one whose frustration was mounting as Slytherin were resorting to new lows.

In the next few minutes, Alicia was hit with a club by Bole; claiming that he thought her head was a Bludger. At that moment, Oliver wanted nothing more than to have his own Beater's bat and pound Bole's face until his looked like a Bludger. The nerve of anyone to say that about Alicia, who was the prettiest girl in Hogwarts to Oliver…

But George, who was closest, was able to retaliate with an elbow to Bole's head. Honestly, Oliver did not mind that Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties and rather thought that George Weasley had been playing spectacularly all match.

Fortunately, Alicia appeared fine as Johnson took the penalty and scored another ten points for Gryffindor. Oliver also managed to block a feeble shot from Montague when Slytherin took their turn. The score was forty – ten, which meant only three more goals to get, if Oliver could prevent Slytherin from scoring.

The Gryffindor Chasers seemed to be motivated by this fact, and they performed a flawless Hawks Head Attacking Formation, allowing Bell to get the Quaffle through the Gryffindor goals again.

Oliver's eyes darted around to each of his teammates, ensuring that the Slytherins weren't going to retaliate against his players. He was pleased to see that the Weasleys were flying next to Potter with their clubs raised threateningly. However, while he was looking out for the rest of his team he forgot about himself.

BAM!

Two Bludgers, one after the other, hit Oliver squarely in the stomach. He was completely winded and just managed to hold onto his broom as he rolled over; coughing and spluttering. He heard the crowd scream in fear, but Alicia's shriek was the clearest to him. Eventually, he turned the right way up despite the bruises he felt forming.

Vaguely, he heard Madam Hooch screech at Bole and Derrick, and award a Gryffindor penalty. He held up a hand to indicate that he was all right to his team. It was going to take Slytherin a lot more to prevent Oliver from playing in a Quidditch Final and his determination rose as he saw Johnson successfully take another ten points. One more to go…

The opportunity for Potter to make for the Snitch came moments later as Warrington – in possession of the Quaffle – had it knocked out of his hands by a Bludger from Fred Weasley. Alicia seized the Quaffle before it reached the ground and to Oliver's amazement, dodged the other two Slytherin Chasers and a Bludger with expert skill, before putting the Quaffle through the goal. Oliver's heart was pounding in excitement as he sought out Potter, who appeared to be scanning the pitch for the Golden Snitch – the tiny ball that could win the Cup for Gryffindor.

Suddenly, Potter took off on his Firebolt so quickly that Oliver struggled to relocate him – as he kept one eye on the Quaffle – and found him again soaring upwards; his hand outreached…

But for some reason, Potter started slowing down and Oliver could just make out Malfoy holding and pulling down Potter's tail and with Potter distracted by the Slytherin Seeker; the Snitch had disappeared.

Oliver felt himself turning red as he shook with rage like never before. How dare Malfoy interfere with his Seeker! How dare he touch the Firebolt! How dare he take away the Cup!

The entire Gryffindor team were screaming themselves hoarse and it sounded as though Gryffindors below were doing the same.

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics!" Madam Hooch howled, shooting up to Malfoy.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Oliver heard Lee Jordan yell. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B –"

Oliver finished Lee's sentence for him and he began to make towards Malfoy, but then realised that Alicia was preparing to take the penalty shot. Even from the opposite end of the pitch Oliver could see her shuddering with fury and was not surprised that she missed her target by several feet.

Oliver sensed his team was losing concentration and he glanced nervously at Potter. They needed the Snitch.

Slytherin seemed to be taking advantage of this, as Flint was already halfway up the pitch; unchallenged by any Chasers or Beaters. Oliver prepared himself, but just as Flint began to throw the ball he feigned aiming right and dropped the Quaffle to Montague who was able to score. Oliver cursed heavily.

When play started again, Oliver saw that his team was in trouble again. Johnson was roaring up the pitch with the Quaffle but every single Slytherin player – including the Keeper – were heading towards her; like a solid emerald wall. Oliver gripped his broom in suspense but then saw Potter appear from nowhere – flat on his broom – making a beeline for Slytherins, who upon catching sight of Potter broke formation; leaving an opening for Johnson to…SCORE! Gryffindor were up again. All they needed was the Snitch.

Yet, to Oliver's horror he saw that Malfoy was speeding towards the ground, a triumphant grin spreading across his pointed face…and Potter was on the other side of the pitch…

All the players froze in the air as they watched Malfoy dive and Potter fly towards the tiny glimmer of gold near the Slytherin Seeker. Somehow, Potter was catching up and Oliver couldn't help but admire the Firebolt's superb speed. Just as Malfoy stretched his arm out, Potter had reached Malfoy. They were neck and neck for the Snitch, but Malfoy fumbled clumsily allowing Potter to throw himself forward and grapple for the Snitch. As the two pulled out of the dive, it was unclear who had been successful but then Potter raised his hand above the air, the Snitch glittering between his fingers. He'd caught the Snitch.

Gryffindor had won.

Oliver was still and silent for the briefest moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened...

"YES!" he bellowed, streaking towards Potter and beginning to feel tears stream down his face. "WE WON!"

Oliver slammed into Potter and seized him around the neck; sobbing unrestrainedly into his Seeker's shoulder. Then Oliver felt the Weasleys knock into them, as well as Alicia, Johnson and Bell screaming, "We've won the Cup! We've won the Cup!"

Oliver felt numb as their odd huddle eventually landed on the ground, where a stream of crimson clad supporters raced towards them. The team was surrounded by shouts of triumph, chanting and cries of celebration. People were thumping him on the back, Alfie and Russel ruffled his hair, Diggory came to offer congratulations for finally beating Slytherin, Professor McGonagall – who was weeping more than himself – shook his hand; yet, funniest of all was Percy, who took a short break from jumping around madly to shake Oliver's arm so enthusiastically that Oliver was afraid it would fall off.

Oliver found himself torn between laughing, crying and shouting along with everyone else, but froze in his festivities when he saw Alicia out of the corner of his eye.

They stared at each other, a few feet away, while red and gold flags soared around them and students cast multi-coloured sparks from their wands. By just looking into each other's eyes, they did not need to express their joy and euphoria exploding in their hearts like fireworks. Oliver thought she was radiant with windswept, sandy hair and a wide grin on her flushed face.

"I never told you why Diggory broke up with me," Alicia shouted over the noise.

Oliver's face fell and his joy began to deplete like air issuing from a burst balloon. Really, he thought, she wanted to talk about Diggory now?

"It was because he knew –" Alicia paused and blushed before continuing, " – he knew that I was in love with someone else."

Those words were all that Oliver needed to have his beaming smile return in full measure. Then, with perfect ease, he closed the gap between Alicia and himself and captured Alicia's lips with his own. His arms snaked around her waist as he lifted Alicia off the ground. He felt Alicia kiss him back enthusiastically while her hands knotted themselves through his hair. Oliver felt his happiness mount to heights he did not know were possible, even after winning the Quidditch Cup, and it was with great reluctance that he pulled away from Alicia, whose hazel eyes glittered with delight.

"How does it feel to win?" Alicia whispered, while they still held onto each other.

"The Cup?" he asked.

Alicia nodded.

"It's nothing compared to you."

Alicia smiled exuberantly before meeting Oliver's lips in a passionate embrace.

After they broke apart again, Oliver and Alicia were shocked to find themselves drawn away from each other as the crowd lifted them up. But then Oliver realised that they were being carried towards Dumbledore who was holding the shinning Quidditch Cup.

Finally, it was his, it was his team's and it was Gryffindor's.

As the crowd dropped Oliver back onto the ground he looked up at Dumbledore who was smiling proudly and shook his hand; handing Oliver the Cup.

The Cup's silver handles were cool beneath his fingers and Oliver felt as though triumph lay inside it – entering Oliver's body like an electric shock.

Oliver held the Cup high above his head as the crowd went wild and screamed all the more loudly and joyously at the sight of victory.

Yet, as Oliver roared along with everyone's cries of glee, something else occurred to him. This was the most important thing he had ever done in his life but it was not the most important thing to him.

At this thought, Oliver handed the Cup to his Seeker, where the Weasley twins raised him up onto their shoulders, much to the crowd's delight.

Meanwhile, Oliver turned around; looking for Alicia who would surely be nearby. Instead, he felt the wind get knocked out of him and a streak of sandy hair covered his face. Oliver hugged Alicia as she pulled back to see his face, still holding on around his neck.

"I like Quidditch," Oliver yelled, trying to make himself heard over the crowd. "But it's not what I love, Alicia."

And then Oliver kissed her and his heart had never felt lighter and he'd never known true bliss like this.