A/n: Shortish chapter this time 'round, in which Oliver explains the incident with Sirius wasn't so bad! Enjoy. :D
Chapter 28 - Insight
The Gryffindor students stayed in the Common Room and no one seemed to want (or be able) to get back to sleep. The teachers spent the rest of the night combing the castle for any sign of Black but none could be found. This left Oliver with a decidedly queasy feeling rolling through his stomach the rest of the day.
At breakfast, the Hall was buzzing with the news. Everyone was dashing from table to table relaying what had happened or asking what was going on. Denise was frightened because she'd heard Black had actually physically attacked several students and Oliver had to inform her of the real story instead. He was consistently surprised by the variety and extremity of the versions of events that circulated between students.
"He only slashed someone's bed hangings is all," Oliver explained.
"Only slashed bed hangings?" Denise said shrilly.
"Calm down, nothing else happened. No one was hurt!" He assured her at once.
"But how did he get in?"
"Someone had written down the week's passwords and accidentally lost them. Black found them and used them." He spoke softly and calmly, trying to downplay things so as to put Denise at ease. He was still feeling awfully shaken himself however, so it was difficult to do.
The pair talked at length about the incident, speculating fruitlessly on Black's intentions and why he seemed so intent on getting into Gryffindor. Eventually they moved on to new subjects. When Oliver and Lee struck up a conversation about Quidditch, Denise let out a loud sigh and said she'd see Oliver later.
In the weeks leading up to Easter holidays, security in the castle became even stronger. The Fat Lady was back but now there were trolls patrolling in front of Gryffindor which Oliver really could have done without.
In addition, Oliver was no longer allowed to go out and have solo Quidditch practices. After a lengthy debate with Professor McGonagall about the importance of these practices (she understood, but couldn't have him jeopardizing his safety over it), he was allowed to resume them if and only if supervised by a teacher. This duty, after requests from both McGonagall and Oliver, fell alternately to Professors Sprout, Flitwick or Madame Hooch (the only ones willing or with time to give). Even then, Oliver had had to cut back his personal practices from six days a week to four to accommodate the compromise he'd struck with McGonagall.
Madame Hooch tended to doze off and then wake only to toss out critical comments (not always helpful but nonetheless appreciated) while Professor Sprout usually brought some plants or assignments to tend to or mark. Professor Flitwick seemed to completely enjoy watching Oliver practice and as well as cheering when the Gryffindor Keeper executed a particularly difficult move, would offer sound advice on a variety of plays and techniques. The sessions supervised by Flitwick fast turned into his favourite.
Following one particular practice with Madame Hooch, Oliver had exited the pitch and was heading across the grounds in the bright morning sunlight when he looked up and saw Audrey coming towards him. He steeled himself and dropped his gaze back to his feet – he had nothing to say to her. Nothing nice, anyway.
"Oliver…" she started softly when he was close.
He walked swiftly past her. For a moment he thought it would be like that moment when he'd brushed past her outside the Library, where he'd managed to keep going and she hadn't said anything. This time however, she turned around and called after him,
"Oliver wait."
He had no intention to stop, but his feet betrayed him and he slowed to a stop.
She hurried close and came around to face him. "We haven't spoken in weeks – more than a month, even, and I just need to… I need to explain. Please listen."
The hurt he'd felt at seeing her in the hallway with Flint bloomed again under her familiar gaze. "There's nothing to explain." He mumbled and took a step to bypass her. She easily blocked him.
"Yes, there is, because you don't know the whole story."
"And the whole story will make me feel better, will it?" Oliver snapped. "Look, I don't care what it was. You wanted company for the holidays, I was convenient. You used me, you stole my playbook, it's done, it's over."
Her face reddened and he could tell she was struggling to hold her temper.
"Please, just give me a chance to –"
"You've used up your chances. I was always giving you a chance! The benefit of the doubt and you continually proved me wrong. You're a Slytherin to the core Audrey, and I was a fool for believing any different – for believing that you cared." Emotion swelled in his throat.
He'd cared. He'd cared far more than he was willing to admit and she'd thrown him away like a piece of garbage. He held her hurt gaze a moment longer, feeling like he was drowning in memories and then managed to tear himself away, walking towards the castle.
"You stupid, arrogant git!" she shouted and walked fast to catch up with him. "It's not all about you! I'm sorry that I wasn't blessed with all the sickeningly perfect qualities that make someone a bloody Gryffindor, but being Slytherin doesn't automatically make me a horrible person."
"Oh yes, you're really doing a great job proving that stereotype wrong."
She grabbed his sleeve so suddenly and forcefully that he stopped walking and faced her.
"You think you know me, but you don't. You really have no bloody clue what I'm about, what I've been through. We had some great talks over the holidays, we really did, but you have no idea what I have to deal with on a regular basis. You have no bloody clue."
Oliver opened his mouth to reply but she talked over him fast and hard.
"My parents are nothing like your parents, I can guarantee you that. I'm not someone they love or appreciate or are proud of. I do everything in my power to please them. I do everything I possibly can to make them see that I was worth their time, money and effort." She waved her hands as she talked and her eyes blazed. "I chose to be in Slytherin because I knew it was expected of me and it would make my mother happy. I align myself with guys like Flint because my father sees it as gaining useful connections for later in life and that makes him happy. I make the right friends and date the right people and stay in the right circles and I do everything I'm told so they won't continue to wish that they had never had me."
She stopped to catch her breath, glancing down and back again. Audrey continued a moment later in a slightly quieter but no less firm tone.
"I do it because the day I graduate, I'm getting away from them. I can't do that while they're putting me through school, while they're busy providing for me out of social obligation. I can't bend a single sodding rule, have one word against them or it's over. They may live a hundred miles from here but believe me when I say they control me. And yeah, it's really that bad."
Oliver's shoulders sagged. In all of their talks, she had always managed to neatly side-step the subject of her family with vague answers and a change of subject. It'd never really bothered him, he'd never read into it and now he wished he'd pressed a little harder. If he'd understood her a little more…
Well, it wouldn't have saved him the heartbreak of seeing her snog his biggest rival, but at least he would have had the mind to realize how broken she was.
"And don't you dare say I didn't care." Tears shone in her dark eyes. "I did - I still do, more than you know. More than I wanted to. And that's not going to change – trust me, I've tried."
"Aud…"
"Don't stand there and look down at me like that. You with your two, happily married parents who only want the best for you and let you make your own decisions. You, the amazing Gryffindor Captain, who stands out from the crowd without even trying. You, with the circle of genuine friends, great grades and loving family. You can date anyone you want, care for anyone you want and your parents will support you." She shook her head and chuckled bitterly. "I bet you don't have a box buried in a friend's yard with money for your grand escape, do you?"
She finally let go of his sleeve and he couldn't single out a specific emotion as his feelings jumbled around inside.
"You can't even imagine what it's like," she said softly. "So don't you dare judge me or think you know me. And for Merlin's sake, I didn't steal your sodding playbook."
She headed away a moment later and Oliver was standing there until he realized he hadn't moved in fifteen minutes. He slowly made his way to the castle.
Dear Diary,
My own boyfriend won't go to Hogsmeade with me. Alright, I'm being dramatic. But he complained that the Quidditch final is coming up and he absolutely has to focus. I'm not trying to sound bitter, but Quidditch? Over Hogsmeade? Over time with his girlfriend?
Okay, I should admit, I haven't really been a good girlfriend. I don't really know how to be with him. After months of having such a crush on him, I feel… just too platonic with him and I find it awkward. I keep dating him because he seems to really like me and I don't want to hurt him. Does it make me a horrible person? I really should be breaking up with him, even Katie says so. She shouldn't really be giving me love life advice, though, what with secretly dating George Weasley. You know she said he hasn't even told Fred, his own twin! She said they're trying to keep things quiet until they've decided "What they are", whatever that means.
Anyways, the point is, I'm just fed up with Quidditch and feeling painfully unromantic and secrets. And homework. Which reminds me, I really should get that last essay done before Easter holidays…
-Denise
The homework assigned to him to be completed over the holidays lay in a forgotten pile by his nightstand. He spent nearly every waking moment doing something Quidditch related. He'd procured a new notebook after his first had gone missing (it still bugged him where it possibly could have gotten to) and could be seen sketching and drawing out plays and moves, finalizing them in his mind. When he wasn't sketching, he was practicing.
Since it was the holidays and the weather was growing nicer, the teachers had formed a schedule for the pitch to be supervised for a certain number of hours each day so students could use it. Oliver was usually there from the moment it opened after breakfast to when it closed before supper, only stopping briefly for a snack around lunch time. The Quidditch final against Slytherin was coming up on the first Saturday after the holidays and Oliver knew he had to be perfect – or better.
"You really should back off, Oliver," Katie advised one night when Oliver clambered in the portrait hole after a four and half hour practice. "You're going to burn yourself out and then what use to your team will you be?"
He cracked a tired half-smile. "Or you'll be thanking me when we absolutely smash them."
Katie sighed and returned to her assignment.
A/n: Thank you as always for reading! You know the drill.
