The next few weeks passed numbly. There were no other words to describe how I felt about the blowout with Oliver. He hated my guts. He didn't even look at me during practices, and he always ate at the Hufflepuff table for meals. It was like I had never existed to him, except my presence on the pitch, which, going by the wrinkle in his brow every time I opened my mouth, or geared up to make a goal, he regretted immensely. It hurt me. Too badly to even articulate. He spoke less and less to the twins, and the girls were receiving basically the same treatment I was – just without the disdain.

"You've got that look again," Roger said softly, stroking my cheek. I looked up at him from my place on his lap.

"What look?" I asked, making sure to wipe my expression clean. I knew which look. He'd been pulling me up for it almost every day for two weeks. It was the hurt, cold look that seemed to take over me when I thought of my former best friend.

"He isn't worth torturing yourself over," he said for the umpteenth time, and I sighed. He didn't understand, and I didn't expect him to. In fact, I appreciated the sentiment. I reached up and brushed his cheek with my knuckles. He caught my hand before I could take it back and laced his fingers with mine.

I looked out at the Lake, which had become my spot for contemplation over the fortnight. Most nights, Roger joined me.

"You're beautiful," he digressed, his free hand's fingers tracing my features.

"You're perfect," I answered, and I meant it. I looked back up at him and watched as his eyes swept the natant landscape, a half smile on his face.

"How is the studying coming?" he asked, changing the mood immediately. I sighed.

"Can we not talk about it? I think I've lost all capacity for learning. It's depressing me."

He smiled outright this time. "I'm pretty sure that's not true, Katie. You'll do great – I promise. Any time you need help ..."

"Thank you," I said, and sat up, shuffling to sit next to him on the slightly damp grass. His hand found mine again, and he lifted it to his lips to kiss my palm. I laughed, and he smiled. "How was practice today?"

"I thought we said we weren't going to talk about it before Saturday?"

"I'm curious, and you look tired."

"I am. It was tough. The team are really starting to worry about it. I tried to inject some spirit, but it just wasn't happening. They've resigned themselves to the fact that we're going to lose."

"You give as good as you get, Roger. I can say that and mean it. There's every chance you'll beat us."

"You deserve to win."

"We deserve a shot at winning. If the final turns out as it should be: Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, then there'll be no complaints from us if we lose – well ... one complaint. From one of our numbers."

"Yeah," he said, eyeing her thoughtfully. "I'm not going to try to lose. But I want you guys to win. You've deserved it for three years now."

I hugged into his side at this. "Perfect," I reiterated, and he laughed.

Fred and George sat either side of me at dinner that evening, and the girls took their places across from us.

"Hey," I said. When none of them answered, I looked up at them curiously. They were all fixing me with a pensive stare. "Can I help you?"

"Funny you should ask that, Kathryn," Fred said.

"Uh oh. Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"You're not," Angelina confirmed. "I told him not to do this to you," she said, throwing a stern glare in her boyfriend's direction.

"With respect, Angel, what else are we supposed to do?"

"You need to take what this will do to Katie into account as well, remember. You're treating her feelings like collateral damage."

"I'm not. It will all be fine in the long run."

"She's happy. Let it be."

"Can you both stop talking about me as if I'm not here and tell me what's going on?" I bit, apprehensive as to where this conversation was going.

"We need you to talk to Cassie." I felt my mouth drop open in shock. For all of the things I thought they would say to me, this didn't even enter my mind.

"Cassie?"

"Yeah, eh ... Oliver's girlfriend?"

I twitched as Fred said it. "I know who she is." I clipped my tones, fearful of my voice breaking just at the mention of her.

The four exchanged looks. "It's just ... well, Oliver cancelled practice tonight," George told me, his face apprehensive. "It's only four days to the game. He's never cancelled a practice this close to a match before."

"All because of that ... thing ..." Alicia said in disgust.

"And seeing as none of us are on very good terms with Oliver at the moment, and you were his closest friend to begin with, it wouldn't be as weird for you to query it from Cassie's point of view," George explained.

I stayed silent, staring at the table. I couldn't believe that they'd ask me to do something like this – after all that had happened between Oliver and myself, they were asking me to talk to his (I mentally choked) girlfriend, who would undoubtedly tell him of our conversation, and make all that had gone wrong between us even worse.

Another few moments of silence passed, and I took a breath. "I can't do that." The tears were threatening to fall, and my hands were shaking. George placed a hand on my back, noticing my distress.

"But –" Fred started angrily.

"Leave it," George countered, glaring at him over my head. Fred sighed, but did.

I took a breath, and happened to look up right at the moment Oliver had chosen to look over at us from his place at the Hufflepuff table. Cassie nudged him to centre his attention on her once more, but it took Oliver a few moments to take the hint. He looked at me carefully, his expression confused, before he smiled back at his girlfriend. My eyes dropped again, and I pushed away from the table. My four friends looked up at me.

"I need some air," I excused vaguely, my mind already halfway to the Lake.

"Katie," George and Angelina objected together.

"You need to eat, Katie. Sit back down," Alicia said softly.

"I'm sorry, Kat. I didn't mean to upset you," Fred apologise. I waved him off.

"I'm fine," I said, not making eye contact with any of them. "I just need some air," and I took off.

I was crying by the time I halted on the rocky beach of the lake, my whole body shaking without my knowing why. How could one look from him affect me so badly? How could the prospect of being nice to his girlfriend anger me so much?

"Kates." I sobbed at the nickname, and at the voice, and no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't turn around. He came to a stop behind me and wrapped me in his arms. "Shhh," he comforted, kissing my shoulder. "Why are you crying?"

I sobbed again at the question, and his actions. No matter our fight, or what we'd said, Oliver was still comforting me. He still cared. I turned around in his arms and sobbed hard into his chest.

He let me cry, and I appreciated that he didn't ask me what was wrong again. No matter our problems, Oliver knew when I should be left alone. He also knew when to come and find me, and he definitely got it right this time.

"I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you in a while. I would usually know what was wrong without asking," he told me, stroking my hair down my back. "Too preoccupied, obviously." My heart twinged at the comment, and I pulled away from him, breaking all contact. "Kates?"

"Don't call me that," I said, squeezing my eyes shut and turning my back on him.

"Why?" he asked, confusion clearly laced in his voice.

"Two weeks and you haven't given a damn, Oliver, so don't think you can ask me questions." He stayed quiet. I sniffed and wiped roughly at my face, frustrated at my inability to control myself. "So what now?"

"You need to talk to me. I don't understand what's going on with you, and I need to know." His voice was firm, like a father reprimanding his child.

"You don't."

"I do. Katie, I hate this."

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Wood."

"Stop it," he said. "Stop trying to turn this into a fight. I won't fight you. I'm done with that. What's wrong with you? Is it school? The twins? Is it ... Davies?"

I spun and glared viciously. "It has nothing to do with Roger!"

"Okay, well ... what is it then?" I bit back my half-formed shouted retort, but he could see it in my eyes. "Talk to me," he insisted.

"How can I?" came my sad reply.

"You always have. Nothing's changed."

"Everything's changed," I told him, the tears forming in my eyes once more. "Absolutely everything."

"Kates," he said softly, reaching out for me.

"No! Don't touch me. Not when you're just going to go back to her and –" I cut myself off with a curse. I pulled at my hair and let the tears spill over.

"This is about Cass?" he asked in bewilderment. "About me?" His eyes burned as I watched. I couldn't decide whether it was anger, pain, confusion or a mix of the three swirling in his blackened depths.

"As I said, the world doesn't revolve around you, Oliver."

He stared at me, obviously not buying my subterfuge.

"Is there a reason you're making my girlfriend cry? Because it better be a bloody good one." I looked up to see Roger running towards us. Oliver continued staring at me as I watched Roger approach.

"I'm fine," I told my boyfriend, who looked at me with apprehension. He didn't seem to accept my word as Gospel, and turned on my former best friend.

"Well?" he seethed. Oliver looked at him lazily, his intense expression transforming into an unconcerned one as he took in his rival.

"Yes?" he sneered. I could see that it was the wrong move before Oliver did.

I heard myself scream out before I was aware of what was happening. Roger had raised his fist and I watched, as if in slow motion, as it connected solidly with Oliver's jaw. Oliver grunted as Roger yelled out, as if in battle-cry.

"No! NO!" I threw myself at them, desperate to prevent another punch. Roger pushed me out of the way as he rounded on Oliver once more. "Roger! Roger! Stop!" I tried to get between them, uncaring that I would probably get hurt. Oliver hadn't yet moved to make a hit. He was holding his jaw, glaring at Roger, as if daring him to take another swing. "Please. Please don't," I begged.

"I'm not going to do it, Davies. Not in front of her. I understand that you don't have a compassionate bone in your body, and won't know what seeing me beat the shit out of you will do to her, but I know. I know her far better than you ever will."

Roger snarled, his hair flying over his face in his anger. I placed both hands on his chest. I knew that if he wanted to, he could easily shove me to the side, but it was the best I could do. "Don't listen," I said, trying to calm him, pushing him back when he surged forward.

"You know it's true, Katie," Oliver said from behind me. I closed my eyes.

"I do. You do know me better. But you'll never understand me like Roger does, and really, that's what matters." The words burned in my throat, and tears seared in my eyes. I looked up at Roger, the pain written on my face. He understood that one look, and he stopped pushing against me. "I can't do this anymore. I can't be between you." I faced Oliver once more, pain still twisting at my features. "You've made your choice." I took a breath and closed my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. "You're my Captain for the rest of the year, but you're no more than that. Quidditch is where we start and where we finish. I'm done with all of the fighting, and all of the shouting, and all of the hurting. It stops now."

"You don't mean that," he said, his eyes burning with emotion.

"I do. I don't have a choice anymore. I can't cope. What happened today was the splurging of months of anxiety and upset and pain. I don't ever want to feel like that again."

"Katie, I –" Oliver's broke slightly, and he looked at the ground.

"You chose this, Oliver. And I'm agreeing."

"I would never choose that. That – it's – I can't. We can't."

"Your jaw is starting to bruise. Please go to Madame Pomfrey and check that everything's okay." And with that, I walked past Roger, a cascade of tears rippling down my cheeks, and began my ascent back to the castle. A few moments passed before Roger fell into step next to me.

He didn't speak until we went our separate ways on the sixth floor. He stopped me and held my face in his hands, wiping the tears that were still pouring out of my eyes from my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he said simply, threaded with meaning. I sobbed and clung to him. He gathered me in his arms and held me. He knew I needed him. He knew I was falling apart. And I knew I'd done it all to myself. There was no fixing this. It was all over.