I know it's been a while, and I know that this isn't very long but it's been a very busy Christmas!
I wish you all a very happy new year.
Chapter Twenty Seven
And then? Well, then came the Easter holidays. Four long weeks during which I could freak out over the entire incident, chastise myself for my foolishness and pray to heaven above that no one would find out that I had kissed Oliver Wood.
I had kissed Oliver Wood.
Shit.
The immediate aftermath of the event had been the pair of us breaking apart and staring at each other. It was at this point that we both remembered that I was Elizabeth Alvic and he was Oliver Wood and we had no business kissing each other in corridors, that just wasn't what we did. I still recalled, with cringing detail, the confusion and mild panic on his face. "You owe me a galleon" I had muttered in an unsuccessful to defuse the awkwardness before striding down the corridor, praying my long hair covered the blush on my cheeks. That was the last time I had seen him.
I spent the time when I wasn't desperately scrabbling through my books telling myself that it had only been for a bet, and that the only reason I had kissed him was just as a continuation of the games that were going on between us. There were times when I was actually quite proud that I'd managed to leave him speechless before suddenly being filled with the fear that he might actually think I liked him, or that worse, he might be laughing at me. Because for all my dismissive talk about him, I had kissed Oliver Wood.
I had not told Henry, I had certainly not told Flora. I had just whisked myself out of the school before they could notice that anything was off with me. I would just lie low for the next month and by the time I got back everything would be forgotten and Wood and I could go back to ignoring each other like we had for the last six years. I was no longer a Quidditch captain, we had no business with each other anymore.
The prospect of that, however, seemed a sad one. Wood and I were friends, or had been anyway. And while I confess it hadn't exactly been straightforward and we'd spent almost all of the time annoyed at each other it had been good fun. And Wood had spoilt it all by choosing then to cash in on that stupid bet with the twins, and I had been just as bad because I had seen the opportunity for a victory and I hadn't thought about the consequences. And yet, even now, I couldn't guarantee that if I was in the same situation I wouldn't do it again. And he had been a very good kisser.
Stop it. I told myself, you have work. And then I would turn myself back to my book and distract myself with revision until I could bear it no longer.
Within a couple of weeks it was my birthday. It would be a quiet affair, much like Christmas, my father and I would go out into London, have dinner somewhere nice and then head to the theatre. It had been the same for as long as I could remember. I didn't really have any local friends, that was the problem, albeit the only one, with city life. Wizards didn't really live in London, preferring to say in the more secure wizarding villages dotted around the country, but my father had fallen in love with the city and, as I had grown older, I had too. It was isolated sure, but there was an atmosphere which was indescribable, and there was always Diagon Alley.
I smiled at the Birthday cards which lined the mantelpiece, Flora and Henry both had sent one each, with the promise I would receive my presents on my return, and members of the Quidditch team had sent some, a touching gesture given I was no longer their captain. There were none from relatives, my grandparents were deceased and my father an only child, nor from Wood. But of course there wouldn't be. He didn't know my birthday, not that I expected one if he did or that I even wanted one. In fact, I had no desire to even think about Wood on my birthday. I was eighteen years old; I was a mature adult now.
I had been told I would have to wait until we returned from the theatre to open my present, which immediately told me it was something magical. Unfortunately for my father that still meant the present was more than likely to be the traditional textbook, the exception being last year of course when he had given me my watch and Leonard. Gifts I still treasured. However, as soon as I saw the box I knew that this was something different. This box was far too small and thin to house any book my father would purchase.
"I know the important birthday was last year" my father said, smiling, "but we do live in a muggle world and apparently, for them, the eighteenth is rather special too. So I thought you deserved something a bit different."
I smiled at him. And turn the parcel over in my hands. Unwrapping it slowly, almost reverently. I could see from my father's expression that whatever was in this was important to him. Inside was a wooden box, and inside that lay the most beautiful necklace I had ever seen. It was silver and delicate, set with blue sapphires. I stared at it.
"Dad" I began, but I was speechless.
"It was your grandmother's. She was in Ravenclaw too, and quite the Quidditch player. I'm sure you inherit your talent from her." He was smiling, though I could see faint tears behind his eyes. I rushed over to hug him, he held me tightly for a moment. "She loved you so much, as did your grandfather. They would be so proud of you. As I am."
"Thank you" I said into his chest.
He released me, holding me at arms length from him, looking at me. "You are so like your mother." He murmured.
The words stung, I didn't want to think about her today. I hated myself for bringing back those memories to him, after all this time he was still so damaged. And what about me? I was eighteen years old, my childhood had really ended, and it would be a childhood my mother would never see.
I placed my hand on my father's, he smiled at me. "You really miss her" I said, softly.
"Yes" he admitted, "but I have you, and so, despite all the bad things, I am the most blessed man in the world."
He hugged me again, I could tell he was using the time his face was hidden from me to shake off the sadness in his eyes. When we broke apart it was like the last few moments had never happened.
"You should get some sleep" he told me, "I want you up by at least nine tomorrow to get some real revision done."
"I am doing revision!"
"I see you up there, you spend most of your time staring into space. Something on your mind?"
I considered, for a moment, telling my dad about everything that had happened, and the reason why I had been so distracted of late. But, honestly, it didn't seem like it would help. For however much I might look like my mother, I was definitely my father's daughter and if I couldn't figure it out, then what chance did he have?
