Oliver did indeed write to me that very evening. I was making notes from one of my physiology textbooks when a quiet rapping came from the living room window. I looked up, perplexed, not used to receiving mail at such a late hour (as it had reached a quarter to midnight), but suddenly remembering Oliver's promise from this morning, I smiled, getting up from the kitchen table and letting the bird in. She shook off the rain from her feathers and shivered, huddling on the windowsill. I closed the window, allowing the owl to get warm. She hooted thanks as I grabbed a towel from the kitchen and wrapped her in it.

"You poor thing. Oliver was horrible to send you out in this!" I said looking out at the storm outside. I sat on the windowsill next to the owl as she hooted again, and stuck her leg out from the towel-cocoon, letter attached.

Katie,

Sorry it's late – coach wasn't particularly impressed with me. He didn't let me leave the pitch until about ten minutes ago. But as I said earlier, it was totally worth it. I haven't stopped grinning the entire day. Which, I think, added to Thompson's annoyance.

I know that things have to go slow. I understand that you need time – as I do – to heal after everything we've gone through. There are so many things I would change with our story, Kates. Cassie would never have happened. Davies would never have happened. We wouldn't be so wounded after it all. We would have been together since school. We would have been in love, and it would have been forever.

And even though all of what happened happened, I've always cared for you. I've missed you every day, every second. It hurt to think of you, but I did anyway. I tried to find out as much as I could about your life without directly asking the twins. I didn't want the stigma, the accusations that asking would bring. I realise now that I shouldn't have cared. I couldn't even say your name, you know. I missed you so much, Kates. You were my best friend, and I couldn't even say your name without feeling sick with myself and what I had done, and how our lives had turned out. When I found out about Cass and Davies, sure, I was hurt myself, but more than anything, I was concerned for you. Terrified, actually. My first thought was you. Your pain when you found was probably the reason I didn't kill him on the spot. I remembered those days, back in Hogwarts. You hated me fighting. It scared you, and I never wanted you to be scared of me. And, probably selfishly, I didn't want you to pity him before you knew the truth. He doesn't deserve pity from such a compassionate, beautiful woman. He doesn't deserve love from someone so devoted, and caring, and witty, and amazing. Of course, no one will ever be good enough for you, Kates. And yet, I'm lucky enough for you to give me the time of day, even with the mess I've made of everything. I don't deserve forgiveness from you – I know that for sure.

When I saw you again, a week after I found out about their affair, the day I broke my hand and saw you nursing him, it hit me suddenly that it should have always been you. You were perfect, and you could have been mine. It could have been me that you were so concerned for, rather than the one you begrudgingly helped due to duty. And I'll regret that until the day I die. We lost so much time, and we don't really know each other any more – but trust me, we're fixing that.

Goodnight, Beautiful.

Oliver x

My tears were free-flowing by the end of his letter. His heart had been on his sleeve as he's written, and mine, as I cried silently, was in my throat. I petted the owl at my side, and she looked up at me, eyes doe-like at my tears. She hooted quietly. I smiled, refolding the letter.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I won't send you out again. You can stay here tonight." The owl closed her eyes, preparing for sleep.

I fetched her some owl treats from the kitchen and set them beside her in case she got hungry in the night, and wrote a note to Angelina (who had disappeared into her room with Fred a few hours previous) explaining the owl if she rose before me in the morning.

I got ready for bed, and picked up the phone, carefully dialling Oliver's number as I lay down.

"Katie."

"Hi," I whispered, his voice making me smile.

"Is Poppy being stubborn?" he asked, obviously meaning his owl.

"She was cold. I don't blame her for not wanting to go out again," I laughed.

"So you got my letter, then?"

"I've read it twice." I paused, before saying, "Thank you. For saying all that."

"Not a word of a lie, Kates."

"I know."

"I hate how much time we've lost."

"Me too," I said sadly. "Five years is a long time."

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I whispered, heartfelt.

He stayed quiet for a moment, letting our last declarations sink in. Then he said, "I'm here now."

I nodded, despite him not being able to see me, feeling my eyes tear up once more. "I just want to be happy again, Oliver. All I've known is misery since school. I just didn't realise it. And it's because I didn't have you."

"You have me now. I'm not going anywhere. I want you to be happy again, too." I softly sobbed, but Oliver heard. "Kates?"

"I'm fine. I'm just being silly." I sniffed, and tried to compose myself, wiping my eyes.

"It's okay, Katie. I promise you."

I nodded again. "I know."

"I'll never let you down again," he said, sincere and gentle.

"I know," I wept.

He paused again, taking a deep breath. "Please don't cry. I can't stand not being there with you."

"Sorry," I said, trying to stop.

"I love you, Kates. I don't expect for a second that you feel the same. I just thought you should know. Don't feel like you need to answer."

I smiled at the phone, tears still streaming down my cheeks. "You're perfect, Oliver."

He laughed, the sound making me smile brighter. "I'm certain that that's you, love."

"Hmmm," I laughed. Then a thought struck me. "Hey, you must be exhausted. Have you got practice tomorrow too?"

"I'm fine," he told me. I immediately felt guilty.

"I'm going to let you sleep, Ol'. You need your strength. Especially after your, no doubt, near torture practice today. And that was my fault anyway!"

"If you remember, it was me who decided to stay. Blame lies firmly with myself."

"Goodnight Oliver," I said.

"No," he whispered. "Don't. I like hearing your voice too much. Come over."

"What?" I asked, stunned.

"Come over," he repeated, his voice serious.

"You need sleep, Oliver."

"I need you," he corrected, his voice overflowing with emotion. I wasn't certain on his meaning, but it didn't really matter. I couldn't go over. I was sure that that was moving too fast. I couldn't promise myself that I wouldn't do something I would later regret.

"When do you finish practice tomorrow?"

"Should be around 5," he told me.

"I'll be at Grey's at twenty past."

"I'll be there."

"Goodnight Oliver."

"Goodnight Kates," he said reluctantly. "Love you."

I smiled contentedly as I hung up the phone, slipping into a dream-filled sleep, one man on my mind.

"Afternoon," Angelina chimed as she came in around three. I smiled at her and returned the greeting from my spot on the windowsill. "Who's owl was that last night?" she asked, pouring herself a coffee from the pot and leant on the edge of the kitchen table, looking at me.

"Oliver's," I said with a soft smile.

"I know that look. Do tell!" she grinned.

"He wrote me a letter," I shrugged, not being able to hide my contented smile.

"Hand it over," Angelina demanded, teasing smile in place as I pulled it out of my pocket, where it had been all day, except when it was being read, which had been often. She read, her 'aww' face in place. "Can I have him?" she pleaded as she finished reading.

I shook my head resolutely. "Not a chance. He's all mine," I said, then added, a little unsurely, "Um … I hope."

"There's no hope about it. He's clearly in love with you. He has been for years."

"I know. He does. I called him last night. He told me so," I smiled softly.

"I think maybe your life is finally coming together, Katie," Angelina said placing her coffee cup down on the white table and standing up.

"Don't jinx it," I laughed. "I'm going to meet him tonight at Grey's."

Angelina smiled at me again. "I'm really happy for you, Kat. Don't let him get away this time though, eh? I'm not going through all that shenaniganary again."

"Shenaniganary?" I spluttered, laughing at her choice of words.

"It's a perfectly acceptable turn of phase," she said matter-of-factly.

I let her have it, rolling my eyes at her insanity. "I'm not planning on letting him get away. I want to take it slow, though. I'm scared that if we rush it, it'll lose it's lustre."

"Fair point. But I don't think that's likely … do you?"

I smiled contentedly into my coffee cup and shook my head, knowing full well that any relationship with Oliver – whether it be slow, or whether we got married tomorrow – would be beautiful, and long awaited by both of us.

Oliver fell into step beside me as we walked along Diagon Alley, carry-out coffee in hands. He was freshly showered from training, hair still dark with water. I shot him a side-long glance as I took a sip of my coffee, and he shot me one back, smiling. It was something I'd always enjoyed - back in the day when Oliver and I were friends – about spending time with him. Every silence needn't be filled, and casual looks could go unexplained without fuss. It was a relaxed way of being, and Oliver (except when it came to Quidditch) tended to be. It was something that was never there with Roger. I stuttered in my head at he thought of him. I tried not to, for obvious reasons. The fact that he hadn't even tried contacting me after we broke up struck me as odd, but I wasn't complaining. It felt easier to deal with this way. Not that I had his presence in my life, even when we were dating. Which was another good aspect of Oliver. It felt as though he would put anything off (even Quidditch) to spend time with me, and as much I'd rather he didn't miss training, I appreciated the sentiment. I smiled back at him softly.

"Are you looking forward to tomorrow?" he asked, taking another glance at me, then looking up at the blue sky, shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

I nodded apprehensively. "Just – please – don't let me drink. I don't want to make a fool out of myself in front of everyone."

He smiled lopsidedly, shaking his head. "Plan foiled." He laughed at my shocked expression. "Well, it's the best way to get to know a team like ours. Drunk-bonding. Like in Glasgow – a night out there, if you're drunk, and someone else is drunk, you're immediately best friends for the rest of the night."

"I'll pretend."

"We'll see how far that gets you," he smirked. "You're the newbie. You'll be bought drinks." I shrugged, feeling as though I would probably have no choice in that matter. "I'll look after you, though." He was serious as he said that, and I looked at him in question. He shrugged. "I'm not going all alpha. But places like we're going can be quite shady. Exclusive clubs and stuff? Drugs and rich bastards," he said with a laugh. "Plus, someone has to have your back. Or else the hounds will come sniffing."

I snorted at that. "That seems unlikely," I told him.

He tilted his head at me as he looked at me in thought. "Really, you think so?" he said sarcastically.

"Yes, really, I do think so," I answered seriously.

He carried on looking at me for a moment longer, before watching where he was walking once more. "I'm not going to lie, Kates. I think that's one of the most ridiculous things you've ever said." My eyebrows shot up at his gall. I turned on him. He rolled his eyes at my incredulity. "Were you at the same school as me? Seriously, Katie ..."

"'Seriously, Katie …' what?"

He sighed out a frustrated breath. "How many guys asked you to the Yule Ball the year after I left?" he glared.

I mouthed wordlessly for a second. "How …?"

"The twins told me. Despite you having a boyfriend at the time, how many times were you asked to the Yule Ball?"

I chewed my lip. Stupid twins.

"Eight, was it?"

I bit my lip harder, then rolled my eyes. "Nine."

"Do you really think nine different guys would presumably risk life and limb by said boyfriend, just to go to a stupid dance with you? You know why they did? Because you are a funny, smart, and massively skilled Chaser, who's beautiful to boot."

I shook my head at him. "You're deluded."

He stopped my slow stroll by taking me by the elbow, turning me around to face him. "No, Katie. You are." I shook my head again and continued walking, finishing my coffee as I went, dropping it into the dustbin that had appeared at the side of the walkway. He finished his also, dropping his cup into the same bin. "Do you honestly not believe me?"

"Can you drop it, please?" I asked, as politely as I could whilst being quite irate.

"Katie," he said softly.

"Drop it." He let out a sigh, giving up. We came to a stop, automatically, outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, peering in the window into the darkened shop.

"The new Firebolts are fantastic, just got them last month to test-run. I swear, they dive on thought alone. We're lucky we can afford them. I wouldn't like to be on the team who can't. Again, say goodbye to the League, Cannons!"

I laughed. "Even with the brooms, they haven't got a chance in hell."

"How unsportswoman-like of you," he winked. "Every team has a chance. If they sorted their shambles of a team out and got some more discipline, I'm sure they could even get to the second round ..."

I laughed again. "What's your chances this season, then?"

He gave me a smirk. "Puddlemere are tight. You'll be kept busy this season, I'm sure. We play the Harpies the week you start. Usually at least one casualty when we play them. Funnily enough, it's never Joscelind. Some weird respect-for-women-but-not-men thing. Completely unfair." I rolled my eyes at him. "In any case, one of us guys tends to be injured in some way."

"Just out of curiousity, who will I be attending to most often?"

"That would be Liam."

"Oh?"

"For a Chaser, his spatial awareness is a little … shoddy. Don't tell him I said that."

I laughed. "How many times this month have you bust his nose?" I asked knowingly.

"Three."

"He's worse than Alicia!"

"I know! I never thought I'd meet another Chaser with the same crazy problem!"

"He seems nice, though."

"He's a good guy," Oliver nodded, leaning against the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and I mirrored him.

"Still staying with him?"

He nodded again. "I can't exactly go back to my house," he shrugged. "He asked me to move in with him permanently, but …" Oliver sighed. "I don't think Liam knows himself, really. If he did, he would know that when he met a woman and fell in love with her, he'd want me gone from that place in ten seconds flat so that they could have a proper family home. That's him all over."

"It's you, too."

He gave me a wry smile. "And look how that turned out. I should warn him against it, really."

I smiled sadly. "You know you'd do it again in a heartbeat."

He nodded. "Yeah. I know."

A little while and trivial conversation later, Oliver walked me home, coming to a stop outside the flat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then? I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Sounds good," I smiled.

"Thought we could go out to dinner first, if you're willing?"

"Oh. Um, sure! Yeah, that ..." I got over myself a bit, taking a breath, and looking at Oliver and his teasing smirk matter-of-factly. "I'd like that."

"Good," he grinned. "Seven, then. It was good to see you today, Kates."

"You too," I smiled back. He pecked me on the cheek, winked, and left me watching him leave.

Firstly, thank you to all of you who reviewed. I like that I have quite a few readers, and that this shipping has gained popularity again. It was rocky for a while.

Secondly, some reviews have come back mentioning no spacers between different scenes and whatnot in earlier chapters, and also new lines taken where lines ought not have been taken. A few years ago, went a bit odd. Think it was 2009/2010. It was annoying then, but nothing could be done about it. It deleted lines that were put in by Word, and spaced random lines (usually the first five or so words of the first sentence) in the text. Considering this is a pretty old story now – it's almost three years that I've been writing it – that's why it's a bit funny. If I could be particularly bothered, and if it mattered a lot, I would go back and correct what was wrong. To be honest, it's effort enough to write these days, being so busy. As well as that, I know as a reader who has stories on 'story alert' that re-posting chapters can be quite annoying, what with the email notifications. I don't think it matters greatly to the integrity of the story, and so I'm going to leave it. Same with misspellings, which I don't feel I'm particularly bad for anyway. Sorry if it bothers you, but I'll keep mistakes to a minimum in the future.

Ciao.