Chapter 29 – Let down

The evening after Puddlemere's spectacular victory against the Bigonville Bombers, Oliver and I went to his dad's house for dinner to celebrate Oliver's twenty-third birthday. "I still don't understand why you didn't want an actual party," Adrian and Owen had designed a massive bash (to be held at our poor flat, of course) as decadent as the 'Happy Divorce' shin-ding they threw him last fall but Oliver had flat-out refused insisting on a quiet dinner at home.

With his dad.

Who never liked me.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, placing a chaste kiss on the top of my head. "Is this so bad? I don't get to see my dad too often, what with Quidditch and all, and after mum…" his voice trailed, and he gave me another kiss. I snuggled closer to him and squeezed his stomach, trying to get him off that train of thought.

It was silly of me to have forgotten that Mrs. Wood had been murdered during a raid on Diagon Alley last year. Oliver had been very close to his mum, even if he didn't speak often of what had happened. I had grown so used to celebrating my birthdays without any parental involvement that it was easy to forget that hadn't been the status quo for everyone else.

We arrived at his house in silence. The Wood's lived in a nice cottage-like home south of Edinburg. Thanks to the accord of 1717, travel anywhere between Great Britain was made local by both flu and apparition. It wasn't until 1801 that Ireland was included into this agreement in an attempt to unify all magical communities north of Continental Europe. To go everywhere else, you needed to get permits from the Ministry of International Transportation. You also had to use their flu networks.

Oliver stepped forward and held the door open for me to go through. I took the opportunity to run my hand across his stomach as I entered the house.

It looked just like it had years ago. Mr. Wood hadn't moved a thing. The living room had the same sofas with that hideous flower-patterned cover. Different tea cups were placed for decoration on a shelf against the stone chimney. I remember Mrs. Wood had been an avid fan of collecting antique china tea sets; Oliver had gifted her quite a few.

"Oliver, happy birthday," Mr. Wood's voice came from the kitchen. I turned around, trying to keep my hands from wriggling or showing any sign of my anxiety as he approached his son. Mr. Wood placed two rough hands on his son's shoulder before bringing him in for a bear hug. I stood aside, letting my gaze wonder everywhere but at them. "And… Elizabeth, " I jumped when he addressed me to. I tried to plaster a believable smile on my face as Mr. Wood took my hand and pressed it. His eyes told he was not happy that I was back beneath his roof.

"It's so good to see you, Mr. Wood," I chanted, sounding fake even to my own ears. "It's been quite a while."

"Indeed it has," not long enough, his eyes seemed to say. I sighed when he let go of my hand and clapped Oliver on his back to begin leading him towards the kitchen. "Everyone's here already, even Doug. Came all the way back from Lithuania for your birthday. And probably some good tickets to the game against Heidelberg Harriers."

Wait, wait, wait. Doug… why does that name sound familiar? Then the memory of a boisterous, slimy voice jolted my memory.

"You've got a bird hidden in your room? And I thought you were still a virgin."

I shuddered. Oh yes, Doug. Oliver's cousin. Which meant… his entire family was waiting in the dining room. I stayed closer to the shadows of the other room and watched Oliver get lifted from the floor by the mammoth of his cousin. A girl that looked to be only a few years older than us, and who was holding a crying baby, came to hug him next. Her hair was the exact same of chestnut brown as Oliver's, but her eyes were green. Oliver greeted every person in the room, before coming to yank me from my safety blanket and begin introducing me to everyone.

"You remember Doug, he studies dragons in Lithuania," Doug wriggled his eyebrows at me and I tried not to recoil. "And that's Claudia, his younger sister. She works for the ministry. This little princess is Grace, she's a year old," Oliver paused to let the baby girl bite on his finger. I watched him amazement as the baby stopped crying and began laughing.

"Oliver's her godfather," Claudia said with a smile. "We named her after Aunt Grace." No wonder Oliver was so affectionate; the baby had his mother's name. An odd sort of warmth crept through my belly as I watched him play with the toddler.

"Everyone sit down," Mr. Wood said. He was carrying a large casserole. An older woman, whom Claudia identified as her mother, Euphemia, was levitating two large pots in front of her. Oliver took my hand and we sat down close to Doug. He finished pointing everyone out as his aunt and cousin helped with dinner.

"Uncle Robert, Euphemia's husband, is dad's older brother. Mum's sister, Aunt Shelley," he pointed towards the older blond woman with too many sapphire rings in her chubby fingers, "never married. Grampa Wood is going a bit deaf; he has to go to St. Mungo's for regular hearing spells."

Euphemia called for silence and shot her son a particularly nasty glare. Dough stopped pretending his utensils were drumsticks and kept quiet. "I just wanted to propose a toast for my favorite nephew-"

"Only one you have," Dough pretended to cough.

His mother acted like she didn't hear him. She probably did, but was too used to this. "For turning twenty-three-"

"Like it's rather hard," Dough said with a roll of his eyes. I almost choked.

"-and I just wanted to say that I am very proud of the man you've become-"

I looked at Dough through the corner of my eyes, waiting for a sardonic comment, but he just shrugged and Euphemia finished her toast. Oliver was red on the cheeks as he offered me some roast hunch of venison. Well, at least it wasn't haggis.

The meal proceeded well. Euphemia kept firing me questions. Where I worked; what I wanted to do with my life; what house I was sorted into (complete dead silence when I said Slytherin. Apparently this was an almost exclusive Gryffindor house. Only Claudia and Oliver's mum had been Ravenclaws); and, how many children I wanted (both Oliver and I choked at that one) before the conversation turned to Oliver.

Euphemia had cleared the plates of the main meal and had brought a large Dundee cake with twenty-three candles. Her husband, Robert, took pictures of Oliver as he blew the candles. I squeezed his hand beneath the table as Euphemia began distributing cake to everyone. I wasn't a big fan of Dundee cake, too much currant flavour, but this one was actually good.

"Did you bake this, Euphemia?" I asked, pointing at my slice with my fork. "Because it's delicious." Beside me Dough laughed and I kicked his shin. I had a feeling Doug and I would become close friends.

The thought startled me of course. Because for Doug and I to become close friends, my relationship with Oliver had to continue to grow and be maintained over an elaborate period of time. And that thought was scary. But good.

"So Oliver, when do you begin working for Scotland?" Mr. Wood said.

My head snapped sideways. Working for Scotland? Oliver fidgeted and turned his face away from me so I couldn't see his expression. There was a numbness being born on my fingertips and spreading quickly throughout my nervous system.

"I'm talking to Maud tomorrow, I didn't think it'd be much of an issue but with Puddlemere making it to the finals they'll need to bring the reserve keeper up to speed," I blinked. My fork fell from my hands and clattered against the plate. I ignored.

"You mean you're leaving Puddlemere?" I asked, unaware of the silence that had fallen over the table. Oliver sighed and nodded, still not facing me. "Before the final game."

"Scotland's offer is too promising, Sarah," he said.

"Why does it sound like you're reciting a memorized poem, then?"

Oliver's eyes flashed with something akin to leading. I narrowed mine but got the hint and shut up. I pushed my plate in front of me and sat down against the rest of the chair. Euphemia broke the silence by asking anyone if they wanted tea. I didn't want tea. I wanted to know why my bloody boyfriend was giving up his dream for a second-rate job.

The dinner didn't finish soon enough. Mr. Wood kept shooting Oliver proud glances and made several toasts to the promising future of Scotland's National Team now that they had the great Oliver Wood in their team – as a strategist, not a ruddy player. Oliver was a brilliant strategist, don't get me wrong, but he was a better keeper. The fact that Oliver only responded half-heartedly didn't do much to lift my mood.

I stepped out after dessert to go use the loo. I locked the door behind me and splashed cold water on my face. I hadn't noticed my hands were shaking. I wanted to grab Oliver and shake his head until common sense hit in. with a heavy sigh; I left the loo and hoped I'd be able to pry him away from his father's grasp.

A voice spoke, frightening me. "Elizabeth, or should I call you Sarah? I noticed my son much prefers that name."

I turned around. Faint light was illuminating Mr. Wood's outline, thrusting his face into darkness. "It's Elizabeth."

I thought I saw the flicker of an amused smile. "I see. You're not happy about Oliver's decision to leave Puddlemere," it wasn't a question.

"I see where Oliver got his perceptiveness from."

"Now Elizabeth, Oliver tells me he's quite serious about you. We should drop the hostilities."

I huffed and pushed my fringe away. "It seems Oliver makes a habit of telling you more things than me."

"I am his father."

"Then you should be telling him he's making a big mistake. Keeping for Puddlemere's been his dream since-"

"There comes a time, Elizabeth, when you need to let go of your dreams and begin to see the world for what it really is," he cut me off. "That's the meaning of growing up. Oliver's made a wise choice, one that will bring him closer to-"

"Hating his job for the remainder of his life," my turn to cut him off. "Oliver will go barmy if he's got to sit at a desk for the next four decades or so."

Mr. Wood took in a deep breath. "He'll grow used to it. We all do."

"Is that what you tell yourself every morning when getting ready to go to work?" I said, trying unsuccessful to keep the bitterness from my voice. "Oliver told me you played for Pride of Portee after Hogwarts. Did you give that up in favour of growing up?"

"I did it to be kind to my wife," his reply felt like a slap. "I left Pride to go work for the ministry so I could be there for my wife and my son. Life as a Quidditch player is unpredictable."

"Life at the ministry is a slow poison."

Mr. Wood sighed. We both felt silent. "If you really care for him, Elizabeth, you will not jeopardize him. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity-"

"To make the biggest mistake of his life," I replied, turning around to walk away from him. I knew Oliver's dad had issues, but this was getting ridiculous. "If you really cared for you, Cecile, you would acknowledge that your son is a grown man and let him make his own decisions." I walked away from him, without giving him the opportunity to reply. If Oliver's mum were alive, she would be having a fit, seeing how her husband manipulated her beloved son.

Oliver was kissing his little goddaughter when I got back. He seemed so happy, playing with the baby that it tugged at a part of my psyche I had never given much rein to express itself.

"Do you want to walk around for a bit?" Oliver said after we had finally said our goodbyes. Euphemia had insisted Oliver open his presents in front of everyone like a five year old, and that had taken ages because Doug kept on cracking stupid jokes. It was past midnight by the time we grabbed our coats and left. Frankly, I had never been happier.

I didn't reply, but followed him as he turned the corner. Their house was in a small wizarding community, where the houses appeared small and the gardens were disproportionally large. Oliver took me through a quiet walk around what would've been an enchanting little forest if I hadn't been seething with anger.

"Sarah?" I didn't realize he had stopped walking until I was five feet away from him. I tensed my shoulders and didn't move. Let him come to me. "Are you alright?"

"Why didn't you tell me you accepted Scotland's offer?"

I head him sigh. His footsteps were muffled by the grass. "I did just before the last game. I didn't think we'd qualify to the finals. The League doesn't resume until the fall, and Thaddeus is a decent keeper, they'll do well."

I huffed and didn't bother with a reply. Oliver walked around me and held me by the arms when I tried to turn around from me. "I don't understand why you are so angry about this."

I slapped his hands away. "What were you thinking, accepting Scotland? Oliver you are brilliant at coming up with strategies, but you love playing. You said so, you couldn't imagine just being on the stands not playing!"

"That was before-"

"Before what?"

He run a hand through his hair and took a few steps backwards. "I need to think of my future, Sarah."

I snorted. "Bullshit. You have a wonderful future as Puddlemere's lead keeper which is, may I remind you, what you always wanted."

"And how do you know what I want? How do you know my priorities didn't change?" I raised an eyebrow challenging him to tell me that playing for the team he had followed since childhood wasn't what he wanted most in the world.

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you better. Because I signed the contract and I am leaving on Monday."

My mouth fell. "By leaving you mean-"

"They offered me a house here in Edinburg. It'll be closer to my dad and to work and-"

"So you are also leaving me."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be a drama queen. I was going to ask you to move in with me."

"How thoughtful."

"What is your problem? You'll be able to continue working at Witch Weekly, and you won't have to sweat about not making it to the final game because of your interview and-"

"You thought of everything, didn't you?" I raised my voice. My hands balled into fists. "How kind of you to keep poor little me in mind as you move on to greater and better things. It's nice to know you won't leave me behind like you will your teammates and your friends."

Oliver groaned and ransacked his hair. He strode towards a nearby tree, punched it and came back. "Do you need to make this harder than it already is?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my chin up. "Would you rather I lie and tell you sweettings? Yes, Oliver, darling, sweetheart, abandoning everyone and everything to pursue the path your beloved daddy wants you to-"

"Do not," he raised a finger and pointed at me, "bring my dad into this. He's only ever given me good advice and he wants to see me succeed."

I took an unconscious step backwards and scoffed at him. "He doesn't want you to succeed, Oliver. If he did, he wouldn't have planted the idiotic idea that your Quidditch playing career is worth nothing-"

"I want a family with you Sarah. I want kids, and a house, and a dog. And Quidditch will always be in the way. You saw how mauled I got at the last match-"

"Infamous Gryffindor courage expires at twenty-three, I see."

"-Would you be happy if I get a bludger to the head-"

"If it gets some sense into you, I might throw it myself-"

"You know what my schedules are like," he grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me to look straight into his eyes which were wide with fright. "I was never home when I was married to Briana-"

"She plays for the Harpies, Oliver; she had the same ruddy schedule-"

"But you won't," his voice lowered, "you'll be home alone more often than you'd like. I'll be gone early in the morning and I'll be tired as hell when I come back-"

"Because that has bothered me over the past year-"

"You're telling me you'd be alright with being home alone with a colic baby? Wondering every time I step out on the pitch whether I'm going to fall to my death or be beaten by a rouge bludger or-" I grabbed the side of his face with my hands and he shut up.

"Oliver," I spoke slowly, enunciating each word. "One step at a time. You're bloody twenty-three, not forty. You have an amazing career ahead of you and-"

He pushed me away; I let my hands fall lifelessly beside me while a deep-knotted feeling of disappointment made itself at home inside my gut. I was facing only his back, but when before I could've told him apart in a large crowd, I could barely recognize him standing only just two feet away. "You're not thinking into the future, Sarah."

"Why do you still insist on calling me that?" I asked after a moment's silence. Oliver's back tensed. "I've told you, I'm called Elizabeth."

"Sarah suits you better."

A laugh escaped my lips. "And who are you to decide that?"

"Elizabeth is too abrasive," he turned around. His face looked calmer than before, the shadow of lunacy had been wiped away to show a face that was older than its young years. "You've always been more of a Sarah to me."

"So you want me to be what, more passive, and more dainty? Sarah was my mother, Oliver, not me," I took a step forward to hold his hand. "Are you sure you like me, and not some distorted image of who you'd like me to be?'

"What are you talking about?"

I shook my head and let go of his hand. "You're just like every other bloke, Oliver," my head hung low so he couldn't see my eyes tearing up. Kathryn had said it, Adrian had said it: Oliver waned a fairy-tale princess, he didn't know how to deal with reality. "Terrence wanted me to be the perfect pureblood trophy wife, Ethan wanted me to be a silly little homemaker and you- what do you want me to be?"

I looked up. He seemed to have run out of idiocies to say, so I continued, ignoring the swelling in my stomach and the dryness in my throat. "I'm not a passive, sweet, caring little thing you need to protect. I can stand on my own. I swear, and I'm rude, and I'm definitely not quiet. I'm outspoken, and insecure, and a mental case. And Elizabeth fits me better than Sarah because it's my own."

My chest was heaving and a small sob escaped my lips. Oliver tried to get close to me, but I held him away. I hugged my torso and looked at him, feeling all my expectations crashing down on me. "And I'm a stupid thing for believing you would be able to get that," I turned on my feet and apparated into the flat.

Corey, his boyfriend Daniel, and Adrian were watching a muggle football game when I appeared, tripping over the carpet and falling on the floor. A jolt of pain rushed through my nervous system and I cursed. "Lisa? Liking the floor?"

"Shut up," I said through gritted teeth, pushing myself up to a sitting position. I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hands.

"Merlin, what happened?" Adrian was kneeling beside me. He offered me his hands and I took him, allowing him to help me on my feet. "Are you crying," his rough thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping a tear away. He stared at it like it was an alien substance. "What did Wood do, and do I need to hex him?"

I shook my head any pulled apart. Corey and Daniel were both looking. "You will, hex him, I mean. But not because of me. Oliver's leaving Puddlemere. He accepted Scotland's offer."

There was a short moment of silence before Adrian barked a laugh. "Is this supposed to be funny?"

"Do I look like I'm laughing?"

"You can't be serious," Corey searched my face, as if he were trying to find something that wasn't there. "Blimey, he wouldn't – not when we have the ruddy finals in a week."

A loud 'pop' made everyone jump. Oliver looked around the room and stopped when he caught sight of me. "Sarah-"

"Are you leaving Puddlemere?" Adrian stepped between Oliver and I. Oliver's eyes flashed with hurt, but he nodded. Adrian shook his head and took a few steps backwards until he bumped into me. "I though Lisa was just making it up-"

"I was going to tell Maud tomorrow, but right now I need to talk to Sarah-"

"Elizabeth," I muttered from behind Adrian.

"I don't reckon she wants to talk to you, Wood."

Oliver grunted and pushed Adrian out of the way. Adrian stumbled and almost fell on top of the sofa. "You are really blowing this out of proportion."

"No, Wood," I said slapping his hands away from my body. "It's you who hasn't gotten the memo."

"What memo? Nothing will change between us, I'm not asking you to turn into a trophy wife or to stop chasing your dreams like bloody Higgs-"

"And what about your dreams, have you given them a second through?"

"I told you, this is the best for my future-"

"A future you'll have to plan without me because I refuse to hold your hand while you make a mess out of your life."
Corey gasped. Oliver just gaped. He tried speaking, but no words came out of his mouth. Inside my head, all I could feel was the thumping of my blood, pressing against every vessel, threatening a major breakdown. "Funny," he said at last, lacing each word with a type of poison I had never heard coming from his mouth before. "I always thought the point of relationships was to be there for one another."

I shook my head. "But not like this. I'm sorry, Oliver," I rushed to the door of my bedroom and collapsed on the floor when it closed behind me. Oliver banged on the door.

"You talk about growing up and then go hide in your room? Very mature Sarah."

"It's Elizabeth dammit!"

He banged on the door one more time, hard enough for me to hit my head against it. I cradled it in my arms. "Just listen to me."

"I think she heard enough, mate," a wave of gratitude washed over me at Adrian's words. Oliver told him to sod off and continued banging on the door.

I placed my hands on the floor to help me stand up. When I opened the door, Adrian and Oliver were nose to nose, about to punch each other. "If you're going to say something that's going to make this better, now would be the time." Oliver shifted gear, pushing Adrian away and cutting the short distance between us. He grabbed my hands and I let them.

"Sarah-"
"Elizabeth."

"-I know you don't agree, but it's my decision. Why can't you support me?"

I shook my head and took my hands away from his; they were feeling too warm and the look in his eyes was too honest for me to handle. "Because I know you're making a mistake."

"So you're going to abandon me every time I screw something up?"

I cupped his cheek in my hand. "No, I want to be there when you screw up to say I told you so," that cracked a small smile. It was gone the second I withdrew my hand back to the safety of my own body. "But I know what it looks like when a person makes a decision based on what others want, not what they want. I've been there, except I didn't have anyone telling me what a twit I was being until it was too late. And I'm happy to be the one telling you that Maud won't take you back easily when you come with your tail between your legs on Friday begging to play."

"Don't worry," Oliver replied. His expression had hardened and it near tore me to watch him stare at all of us like we were traitors. But I'm Slytherin, the end justifies the means. "It's not going to happen," with another loud 'pop' he was gone.