"Would that change things for you?" Oliver's eyes were darting across my face, but never landing in mine. I wanted to reply, to say something, but how do you reply to a confession like that one? Oliver seemed to take my lack of response for a positive one. "I figured," he cracked a sad smile. I thought he would walk past me and let me marinate in what he had said.
My legs felt like jelly. I leaned against the marble banister feeling my chest heaving. Oliver didn't move an inch. "Do you want the full story?"
I nodded, not trusting my vocal cords. I stared at my toes. Gwen had painted them coral before we left. That had been yesterday. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
"The Weasley twins messaged me, letting me know the battle had started. So we all flew over – my entire Gryffindor team was there," for a moment his lip curled upwards into a small smile. "Adrian came with, so did Flint, Owen, Evie, your brothers… McGonagall and everyone designed a battle plan. Adrian, who's better when hexes, he went up to Ravenclaw Tower to fight from there. I stayed on the grounds."
"The Battle, it was carnage," Oliver said, his words washing over me instead of puncturing me. I closed my eyes and listened, trying to imagine. "People were running everyone, there was shouting, people calling each other, hexing each other. The ruddy walls were shaking and every time one Death Eater went down, more appeared. Robbed, masked – people screamed when they saw them. It's hard to kill something you don't see, you know? It's hard not knowing who is on the other side."
"It didn't take long for things to go from bad to nightmare," he paused giving me a moment to ask questions, but I shook my head and he continued. "Within moments the only things you could really see was dust everywhere – and jinxes, red, green. Then something shook the castle, some of the stones came dislodged and they rained on us. One knocked me down. When I stood up, Katie Bell was screaming at me. She had her leg trapped. I run to her, we tried to… disentangle it but it only broke," he explained how he had almost gotten her free when a blast of bright green light ended her life.
"She was limp but still warm, and all I could see was blond hair everywhere and behind her –a laughing Death Eater," his voice strained and his eyes closed. I wanted to reach over and place a comforting hand on his cheek, but every muscle in my body had been turned to lead. "I followed him, chased him across the Entrance Hall, down this stairs-"
His hands were moving as if trying to draw the circuit he had run. "I stupefied him; he fell down," his fingers trailed down the motion. "A couple of steps. I flipped him over, ready to slaughter him but… It was Nicholas staring back at me, baring his teeth and laughing like it was a ruddy joke."
If I closed my eyes, I could imagine the exact expression in my brother's eyes he was trying to describe. I had seen it many times. "He dared me to kill him, and I wanted to, oh Merlin I wanted to – but I couldn't," I opened my eyes to look at him. His face was scrunched up, as if he were trying to convey the conflicting emotions of that moment in time. "But I couldn't kill him."
"Why?" my voice sounded hoarse.
"Because he was your brother! We went on vacation together for Merlin knows how many bloody years. I knew what he had turned into, but I still couldn't," his breathing sounded haggard. I nodded, understanding and he continued. "Then he mocked Katie's death. You know, said he was going to kill me instead, got up, pointed his wand at me and I felt like a right idiot. And then he threatened to kill you."
That startled me. "He threatened to kill me?" there had been no love between us but blimey…
Oliver took a step forward so he was only one step below me. I could see the tension draining from his shoulders. His eyes met mine for the first time. "I should've thought of Briana, but it was your face that floated in my mind at that instant. It was your safety that mattered," his hand reached forward to grab mine. I was surprised by how warm they hands were. "Then You-Know-Who called a ceasefire," his voice lowered, or maybe my ears were ringing. As he spoke, it was as if the scene were occurring again, in slow motion. I could imagine Oliver tensing before firing his jinx, my brother laughing before firing his; a stream of red clashing against a stream of green, the red winning, the green ending my brother's life.
"Adrian woke me up, I don't know how long after. When I looked down, Nicholas' body was twisted, as if he had broken his neck falling down."
Oliver's hand was gripping mine tight enough to slow the blood flow. I know he wanted me to speak, to reassure him that I didn't think he was a monster. But there was only one burning question. "I don't get it, why would Nicholas threaten to kill me? I mean, to you."
Oliver bit his lip. "You see, he said he was going to kill her, the one I care for. And I just knew he meant you. I don't know if he meant it to rile me up or carry it out, but I knew that if I died, I couldn't let anyone hurt you. He could've meant my wife, but Briana never even crossed my mind."
My eyes widened and my mouth rounded. "You mean he didn't-?'
"Say your name?" Oliver finished with a small, sad smile. "No. And that's the thing isn't it? I didn't stop to think who he was talking about. I just knew I needed to keep him from getting to you."
"Briana-"
"Was home and far from my mind," I nodded, still silent. Too many thoughts and emotions were running through my head. It was clear to me that Nicholas must have been threatening me; he had no reason to go against Briana Cauldwell, but he did have a grudge against his little sister. I looked over at Oliver, trying to find the answer to whatever was crawling inside my heart. "Slytherin's know how to find man's thumbscrew. You brother was no different."
I exhaled and found it difficult to inhale again. For a long moment, I could get no breath in or out. I figured this is what a punctured lung must feel like: like drowning, your fingertips grazing the open air but knowing you'd never reach it. "Briana, she said-she said she couldn't help you but that I may be able to."
A puzzled expression crossed Oliver's face. "When did she say this?"
I shook my head. "But it makes sense. After you thought of me-"
"I couldn't in good conscience go back to her. I tried," he said quickly, the pressure of his hand increasing on mine. "But I couldn't. She figured it out and broke it off when I didn't have the courage to admit to my own wife that I was in love with someone else."
My throat constricted. Every internal organ was crying in agony, curling around each other and trying to disappear. I didn't have the courage to admit to my own wife that I was in love with someone else. Blimey.
Oh bugger, bugger, bugger.
Just let me crawl down, lay in fetal position and try very hard to die. All this time-? And what about-? Oh bugger.
"Sarah?" his voice roused me up. I pulled my hand from his. I was shaking. Oliver's eyes widened, then looked down. He must have seen the fear in my face and thought it disgust. Of course; first he tells me he killed my brother, then he confesses to having his feelings for me ruin his marriage and then he goes off and uses the bloody four-letter word.
"Oliver I-," I mumbled. I had already peeled myself from the banister and taken steps backwards. My legs were shaking and I was afraid my knees would buckle over. He was looking at me, pleading. What was he expecting, me to jump into his arms and pretend I wasn't ruddy freaked out? "I'm sorry," I croaked, turned around and run upstairs towards the dungeon.
He didn't follow me.
I was out of breath, my heart having to work overload to bring oxygen to my non-functioning brain. The Slytherin Common Room door opened without a password. Adrian and Gwen were playing chess while Flint and Willow watched. They turned to watch me come in but I rushed past them and up towards our old bedroom. I found a bed, my bed, and threw myself on top of it, grabbing at the comforter like a lifeline. I buried my head in the silk pillows and stifled a loud scream.
How could he?
How could he bloody tell me all of this, dump all of this shit, after everything that's happened? Oh no Sarah, I just want to be friends, I don't want you to think that because I almost kissed you the second after I got divorced that I may as well be BLOODY IN LOVE WITH YOU! Oh no, no, we're just good friends with a penchant for almost snogging and then getting caught at the last second!
I screamed again and began hitting the bed with all my might.
That egotistical idiot. I was going to rip his head straight form his shoulders and feed it to a bleeding chimera and then-
"Lisa?" Willow's voice roused me up. I jumped to my knees and stayed on all fours. My chest was heaving in air, my wrist were barely supporting me. "Are you having another Oliver-Wood-induced panic attack, because honestly, it's about time the two of you begin acting like grownups this is getting-"
"He killed Nicholas."
Willow's footsteps stopped. "What?"
"He killed Nicholas," I replied, sitting back on my legs and facing her. I had the urge to laugh and I indulged. Willow sat down next to me, staring as if I were a case for St. Mungo's. I'm sure the idea of calling on Gwen for a psychological checkup crossed her mind. "And then he has the guts to tell me he's fancied me all this ruddy time," I added strange arm gestures for emphasis and keeping the details out. Ignorance is bliss. "After he tells me that there's nothing going on between us other than friendship for the past, I don't know, year?'
"Elizabeth, calm down," Willow grabbed my hands mid-air and pinned them down. "What in Salazar's name are you talking about?" I told her the whole story; from the night after his divorce with Briana, what said ex-wife had said to me on Halloween, to Valentine 's Day to tonight. By the end of it, Willow was gaping just as much as I had. "Blimey-"
"Mental, isn't it?"
"I was going to say romantic, but I suppose that works," she said with a small shrug.
"Romantic?" I spat the word out like it was mud. "He's been trailing me along-"
"He's been trying to do the same thing you have," Willow's voice was uncompromising. Her brown eyes pinned me down and made me feel like a five year old. "You both have been trying to figure out where you stand and you've-hit a few rocks along the way."
I snorted. Willow ignored me. "Just listen for once," she let go of my hands and caressed the side of my hair. I pouted and crossed my arms, doing my best imitation of a small child. She chuckled. "You two had a strong bond back at Hogwarts – but that was years ago. The he realised that maybe he wasn't quite as over you as he thought, the life he had worked to construct begins to crumble down and you waltz right back in at the most critical moment. But it's been five years. Who knows if you even are the same people? And then you both had a lot of reorganizing to do, Oliver wasn't the official Puddlemere keeper until the other got murdered last year… he had his career, a failed marriage, can you honestly blame him for wanting some time?"
"Yes."
Willow slapped me. "Don't be petty. You were thinking around the same lines."
"But I would've tried. I wouldn't pretend that we had platonic feelings for an entire year. I'm supposed to be the liar and the cheat but I wanted to be honest."
"You do understand that relationships are a tug-and-pull war, don't you? You have to dance with him too, not everything can happen at your pace."
I turned around and laid back down on the bed so Willow had my lovely back to face. She sighed and stood up. I heard her walk out of the bedroom. "He's just given you an open door, Liz. The question is, are you ready to go for what you want, and do you even know what that is?"
I threw a pillow at the closed door. My breathing had slowed, but it was still shallow. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to get that job at Witch Weekly, to continue building my career towards my dream of becoming an editor of that ruddy magazine. I wanted to learn from Miranda Winterstorm. I wanted to succeed. I wanted it all.
And I wanted to figure out what to do with my newest Woody-related problem.
The next morning I woke up earlier than everyone. Gwen was fast asleep on the bed next to mine. I imagined Willow and Flint must've gotten an entire room for themselves, since she wasn't in here. Darlene was also gone, but that was a reason to celebrate, not complain. Since I hadn't changed last night, I grabbed a fresh outfit and popped in for a quick shower. The hot water did little to soothe me. I packed everything and transfigured my large traveling bag into a smaller handbag. I left the room and made my way towards the entrance hall.
Hogwarts was completely deserted. I gathered most people had used this opportunity to celebrate and rejoice and drink up, which translated to a lot of hangovers and no one awake at seven in the morning. The house elves, however, had already prepared breakfast. It was oddly comforting to eat alone beneath the enchanted ceiling; or it would've been, if I didn't have the feeling I was running away from a stampede of angry rhinoceros.
As soon as I was done eating, and relishing on the wonderful Hogwarts food, I left the castle. I walked at a fast pace towards Hogsmeade, not stopping to smell the flowers and apparated home as soon as I was out of Hogwarts' bounds. I transfigured my bag back to what it was, and threw in extra clothes. It was only eight-thirty on a Sunday, but I could always count on Armand to be awake. Ruddy git could never sleep past eight, no matter how much drinking he had done the night before.
Sam opened the door when I knocked. He was wearing a bright red tee and blue boxers, his expression wide awake. "Good morning, Lizzie."
"Move," I pushed past him and dropped my bag on the floor. The last time I had been to Armand's apartment had been when I run off from home at the age of seventeen. Other than changing the carpet, the flat looked the same. At least I could smell pancakes. "Armand," I yelled. "I'm moving in. I hope that's ok!" Sam opened his mouth, but once again I pushed past him and towards the spare room where I had stayed five years ago. It was packed from floor to ceiling with boxes, but I could still make out the small foldable sofa I had called a bed. I took out my wand and pushed the boxes to the far side, leaving some room around the bed. The closet was full of old clothes, which I resized to fit into a smaller partition.
I was half-way through hanging my stuff when Armand knocked on the door. "What did Oliver Wood do and do I need to jinx him?"
My lips curved to a half smile. I turned around and leaned against the closet. "You make me sound predictable."
Armand chuckled and sat down on the bed. "Lizzie, you are my little sister. Whenever you come up with a crazy idea such as moving in with me, Oliver Wood is involved. Now let's go have breakfast, and you can tell me all about it. I'll listen and pretend to understand, Sam will do all the empathising. We'll devise a plan of attack later, sound good?"
"It sounds wonderful."
Like Armand had said, Sam had gasped and commented at all the right times which was oddly satisfying. It was good to have someone who understands just how confusing this situation was without judging me or calling me an immature brat. With my normal friends, this wasn't common. I had yet to get a pep talk from Adrian or Willow that didn't involve me being in the wrong. It felt so good to be justified.
When I got to the whole "ex-boyfriend murdered brother" Armand had tensed, then relaxed. "That explains an awful lot. Wish I could say I'm saddened by Nicholas' death, but you know me, I'm no liar."
It was decided that I could stay with them for a few days (or weeks, months, years) until I figured what I wanted to do. I knew at an instinctive level that avoiding Oliver for the rest of my life was fruitless and childish (wish Willow could hear me think that), but if he had taken a years' worth of space, then so could I. Right Willow, pull-and-tug?
On Monday I went to work like nothing had happened. Adrian had sent me a note stating I still had to help pay rent until I decided what I wanted to do, but that was it. There was no post from Oliver. Kathryn had seemed in a much better mood than she had on Friday, which resulted into an easy day for me. Tuesday was a repeat of Monday, except that Puddlemere was playing the Tornados for one of two British spots in the Cup. They won, narrowly. Corey caught the snitch after five gruelling hours, and still Puddlemere managed to get only ten points over the Tornados.
On Wednesday I had to go visit dad. William insisted. Of course, Armand, little treacherous slug, had sent them an owl explaining what we had found about Nicholas. William had apparated at once and demanded a full story. He then paced across Armand's flat, deliberating in silence, for a good two hours before concluding I had to go and talk to dad, tell him how his favorite son had died.
If I never saw St. Mungo's again it would be too soon, I thought s I walked up the four floors towards dad's new ward. The hallways weren't as packed here as in other parts of the building, as this ward was reserved for forensics and other non-desirables. I knocked when I reached room 4589 and walked in after I heard a small "Enter."
Father looked much better than he had when he first suffered the stroke. His mouth was still lopsided and he tended to lean too much towards the right, but his face was regaining some color and he could now use his left hand instead of his right for most tasks. The healers believed that with a few more months of physical rehabilitation and language-pathology he'd be able to regain most of his previous functionality. William was appealing the Ministry to transfer him to a Seniors Residence with proper precautions on humane basis, but I wasn't holding my breath waiting for a yes.
Older or not, my father had been a Death Eater, and the wizarding world wasn't going to forgive that easily.
"'lizabeth," father straightened up against the pillows someone had propped up on his back. He had a book open on his lap, the letters a couple sizes bigger than he would've read them before. I pulled a chair closer, but still a good two feet away and sat down. "Nice to see you," father said, speaking lower and gesticulating strongly. I could see half of his teeth whenever he spoke.
"I have something to tell you," I hurried to say. I wasn't comfortable here, pretending to feel pathos or pity for a man who didn't deserve any. Perhaps I wasn't as good a liar as I thought. "It's about Nicholas, and how he died." My father blinked, and poured out the whole story. All of Oliver's confession, in its purest form yet, came out of my mouth. I didn't leave a single detail out, not how he had thought Nicholas was threatening me, or even that he had realized he still loved me. Willow had gotten portions of it, Armand and Sam a little bit more, but it wasn't' until I told every niche and small secret to my half-paralyzed father that I felt like a large weight had been lifted from my chest and I could breathe again.
When I was done, I leaned back and enjoyed the feeling of unobstructed air running through my system. I hadn't realized just how much it had hurt to keep it all bottled in. Father blinked some more and I wondered if maybe I had used too many big words, or maybe I should call a healer. Are you supposed to tell a fragile person things like these? But I had underestimated his resilience. When he spoke, I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. "What are you going to do?"
"Do?"
He nodded, slow and controlled. "About Wood. He loves you."
I blinked.
"Do you love him?"
I blinked again, opened my mouth and closed it again. "Aren't you supposed to be enraged that he killed your favorite son?"
"Nicholas… died for what he believed in. I'm not upset," he said, "It's my living children than concern me now. And their happiness."
Our happiness? I stood up and pushed the chair away so I could have space to pace. "Since when do you care about our happiness? You never gave a damn if any decision we made, or you made for us, made us happy. It was always about the honor of the family, the purity of the blood. Who cared if I wanted to choose my own husband, or if Armand didn't like girls? You never cared."
I stopped to glare at him, my heart beating hard against my chest. I had more to throw at him, more to yell and scream, but the sight of tears pooling around his cold blue eyes stopped me. We stared at each other for a long, tense silence. "And it is my biggest… regret." He motioned for me to get closer. I doubted what if this was another rouse, another lie? His eyes looked pleading and I walked closer. His good hand lifted a couple of inches and touched mine. "Just be happy… do what you want, as long as you're happy. Forgive him if that'll do it."
"The end justifies the means?"
He shook his head. "Just be happy."
Thursday was spent thinking over what I had told my father, and what he had said to me. Just be happy. It sounded so ruddy simple, but I don't think I've ever tried something so hard, not even the Patronus charm. I went around my day like an Inferi, doing my tasks without my head being in them.
Forgive him if that'll do it.
Forgive him for what, for killing my scumbag of a brother, or for wanting time to figure out his own heart? I sat down, cradling my head on my arms and resting them on my desk. Forgiving wasn't hard, forgetting was. If we could've tried when I first moved in things would be so much simpler… I would've never dated Ethan, and he would've never slept with my boss.
But maybe it wouldn't have worked, a part of my brain insisted. We weren't ready when we were seventeen, and maybe we hadn't been ready last year. It wasn't to say we were ready now, not with so much left unsaid. And with Oliver and me, it was all or nothing, and maybe this was our last chance.