My eyes had never returned to their dull shade they once were, I realised suddenly, inspecting the swirling viridian. It was nearing six-thirty pm the next night - Saturday. I sat at my dressing table, heart hammering, staring at myself in the mirror, eyes carefully outlined black, eyelashes curled and mascara applied. I blinked at myself. It was strange, I thought vaguely, that after the first time I'd kissed Oliver, my eyes had taken on a whole new light that they hadn't had before. Like my soul had been set on fire.
That sounded too ridiculous. I smirked at myself, my lined dusk-pink lips pulled up at one side slightly. I could be absurd sometimes. Right now, for instance. I was nervous as hell about going to dinner with Oliver. I'd known the boy for nine years. I'd eaten with him countless times. I had nothing to be nervous about. And yet, it had never been in this capacity. And so my heart hammered on in my chest, beneath the high slash-neck of the emerald lace dress I wore. Alicia had been right – it matched my eyes. Especially now, when they were vivid, staring back at me from the glass.
Stand in the mirror. Be objective. Reflect what you are.
I thought I looked good. I let Alicia do my hair, and I was glad I had. It tumbled down my back in tousled curls, some pinned at the sides with the antique pins Angelina had bought me for my last birthday. My fingernails were black, as were my suede high-heels, my small clutch bag, and my light jacket. I tested a smile, my nervousness shining through it blatantly. I cursed myself. It wasn't like this was my first date ever. Pull yourself together, girl.
"Geez, Katie. You look terrified." I looked over my shoulder to the door, where Angelina stood with Alicia.
"But great all the same," Alicia assured me, nudging Angelina in the side in annoyance.
"She always does," the darker girl nodded. "But I think you need a drink." She left the room and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of Firewhiskey and three shot glasses. I downed the one she poured me, and they sipped theirs.
"Thanks," I told her. "I don't know why I'm so scared."
"Because it's your first date with him, silly," Alicia reminded me. "It's totally natural to feel like this."
"I'd really rather I didn't. I just … I really don't want to mess this up."
Alicia patted my hand. "Sweetheart, he loves you. Really – don't worry."
I nodded, knowing she was right, although knowing that didn't stop me feeling sick.
"We're both staying at Fred and George's tonight," Angelina told me. "We thought that was best, so you don't have to worry about making noise when you come back late."
"Thanks guys. I don't know what I'd do without you both."
"Well, you'd probably be less sentimental," Angelina said, laughing at me. I rolled my eyes at her.
"Shut up."
I stood up, smoothing the dress down my thighs.
"That dress is bangin' on you, girl," Alicia said.
"Is that a technical term?" I laughed.
"I'm sure Oliver will agree with her," Angelina laughed too. I blushed.
"Don't act like that wasn't the aim," Alicia giggled, winking a me. I fought a smirk.
"No, not at all!" I said, mock-shocked. "How vulgar!" We all laughed, and then the doorbell rang. My eyes widened, and I stopped laughing instantly, causing the girls to laugh harder.
"I'll get it," Alicia sang, skipping to get the door. I followed her out of my room, Angelina at my heels. I gripped my bag so hard my knuckles began to turn white. I really shouldn't be this nervous …
Alicia opened the door, and there he stood, fiddling nervously with a single white rose, his hair on end. If I hadn't been so terrified, I would have smirked knowing that he was feeling exactly the same.
"Evening, Oliver," Alicia said, throwing a smirk over her shoulder to Angelina. "What do you say we leave the panic-stricken teenagers to it, Ange?"
I managed to glower at her. They really had lost their tact. Must be all that time spent with the twins.
"Have fun, Katie," Angelina smirked, just before she and Alicia disapparated.
Absolute silence followed their departure, Oliver having not looked up from his shoes, and myself doing the same thing. This was getting embarrassing.
I cleared my throat, and forced myself to look at him in the doorway. He looked good, as always. But particularly good in dark jeans and a black shirt unbuttoned just enough to be utterly, irresistibly sexy. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, an expensive watch hanging loosely on his wrist. His dark hair was messy, his hands having ran through it at least a dozen times. I let out a breath I'd been holding as he slowly looked up at me, his eyes travelling the length of me. I blushed furiously when his eyes eventually burned black-gold into mine. I bit my lip nervously, clutching my bag tighter.
"Wow," he managed to utter. I blushed harder, pulling my all-of-a-sudden too short skirt further down my thighs. "You look … wow."
"You too," I managed. I stepped closer to the door, realising I was standing in the middle of the living room, and he was ten feet from me. This was just ridiculous.
He offered the rose to me, and I took it, thanking him quietly. "Shall we?" he asked, his eyes roving over my face as he offered his arm this time. I took another steadying breath as he smiled a beautiful smile at me as I took his arm and he disapparated us to our destination.
...
We apparated right outside an extortionate-looking French affair, with two topiary trees standing either side of an intricately windowed door. I presumed that this was a Wizarding restaurant, though I'd never heard of it before, and this must be where he was taking me.
"Wow."
He led me gently to the door, which read in beautiful French script 'L'élégance Supérieure'. Roger had never taken me to a place like this. It was completely beautiful. I actually felt breathless.
"Are you okay?" Oliver whispered into my ear just as we reached the door of probably the most expensive restaurant I'd ever dine at.
"Speechless," I breathed, and he smirked.
"That was the aim."
"Oliver," I said, turning to him. Then I was at a loss. He smirked more, and held the door open for me, and he placed his hand on the small of my back to lead me towards the rather Continental-looking host, who stood behind a small counter in the entrance area.
"Le nom s'il vous plaît, monsieur?"
My mouth dropped as Oliver replied, "Réservation pour deux à sept heures pour Wood, merci beaucoup."
"Ah, oui, Monsieur Wood de Puddlemere! Oh, oui. Votre table vous attend, Monsieur."
If we are in France, I'm going to murder him. I glanced out of the window and was nearly floored. How hadn't I seen it before? The Eiffel Tower was right there.
"Est-il un problème, madame?" the host asked of me, looking at my panicked expression in question.
Oliver laughed. "Ne vous inquiétez pas. Elle est juste surpris. Je n'ai pas lui dire que j'étais son porte à vorte beau pays. Une surprise, si vous voulez."
"Ah, un homme méchant vous, Monsieur!" the host said with good humour. I had no idea what they were saying, having never studied French in my life. I never thought I would have to! "Suivez-moi, s'il vous plaît, si vous voulez Monsieur, Madame."
Oliver gently took my hand, carefully evading the dark look I was giving him, and we followed the host through to the intimate restaurant. Almost every table was full, and quiet piano music played over the diner's quiet conversations. The Frenchman led us to a booth at the very back of the restaurant, which read 'exclusivement réservés' on a little white card upon the pristinely white tablecloth. Oliver motioned for me to sit on one of the blue-cushioned seats, and he sat opposite.
"Puis-je obtenir Monseir et Madame certaines boissons?" the host asked of Oliver.
"Oui, votre meilleur Champagne, s'il vous plaît. C'est le seul moment où je serai autorisé à l'acheter pour elle, quand elle ne sait pas ce que je dis."
The host laughed politely at what Oliver had said, and nodded dutifully, before taking his leave. I turned my glare on him, and he held his hands up in defence.
"Hey, that look is lethal," he murmured. "And incredibly sexy."
"We're in Paris, for the love of God, Oliver! Why the heck are we in France? In possibly the most expensive restaurant ever?" I whispered angrily.
Just then a silver ice-bucket and two Champagne flutes, appeared on our table. The bottle then poured of it's own accord what looked to be the most expensive Champagne I'd ever even been in the same room as into our glasses. At least I knew it was wizarding. Nevertheless, I bit my lip.
"Is something wrong?" Oliver asked, very concerned with my expression. "Do you want to leave?"
"Isn't this too expensive, Ol'?"
His concern left him, and in it's place came genuine laughter. "The perks of being an international Quidditch player, Kates. I have more money than I know what to do with."
I continued biting my lip, knowing that what he said was somewhat of a fallacy. He'd spent all of his money on his house, which he now no longer lived in. But I let it lie, taking a sip of Champagne. "It's beautiful here."
"I'm glad you like it," he said softly. "You deserve the best."
…
After our meal of things I neither knew the name of, nor knew the constituents of, we strolled along moonlit Parisian streets. I felt like I was in a dream. It was the best date I'd ever been on, not only for the sheer dazzling factor, but also … it was Oliver. It felt as if we were back to the way we were. The jokes from our past flooded back. The anecdotes, the stories. It was as if nothing had happened in the past five years. It was just me and Oliver again. Like it always was.
His fingers found mine, and I smiled down at my feet, stopping walking to turn and face him. His eyes were soft as he looked at me, his mouth smiling. "You are so beautiful." I tsk-ed him and rolled my eyes. "I mean it." I shut up, his eyes dead-serious, his fingers caressing mine.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked quietly. "And since when could you speak French?"
"Because I wanted our first date to be one to remember. And because you deserve to be treated like royalty," he told me honestly. I smiled a little sadly, freeing one of my hands from his grasp and reaching up to brush my knuckles along his jaw, caressingly. He took my hand back, and kissed my palm. "And since always. My parents used to take me on holiday here as a kid." He smiled, a glint in his eye. "Shall we head back to London? We have a party to attend."
I nodded gently, the warm feeling in my chest swelling, my heart going a mile a minute at every look he gave me. And then I knew, officially. The love I'd felt before for him, in school, was nothing. The love I'd felt for Roger was nothing. This was how it was supposed to feel. Wonderful and painful, blissful and confusing. This was the way it was meant to be.
Oliver wrapped his arms around me, gently holding my body to his, and with a pop, and a feeling as though I was being pushed with him through a tube, we were in London again.
...
We apparated once more outside a black-bricked plain building. A tall, well-built, tough looking man in black stood in front of a black, unmarked door. The man nodded at Oliver, uncrossing his large tattooed arms to open the door for us. It opened into a dark, quiet hallway. The door shut behind us, and Oliver squeezed my hand in reassurance, as I'd jumped at the bang.
"One of the more exclusive wizard nightclubs, Kates. This is Gwenyvere's."
At his words, the whole west wall cracked like an egg, a diamond-surrounded archway appearing. A glitteringly sleek black floor stretched out before us, red walls of leather stretching out in a wide circle from us. Black staircases and balconies popped out of the walls, and bars and tables sprouted from the black ground. The ceiling was a vast dome of glass, displaying the night's sky outside, the stars shining more brightly than they usually would, creating spotlights of white light on the already-glittering black floor. Just as suddenly as the room appeared, so did all the people, and with them, the noise.
Oliver leaned in close to my ear to speak over the blaring music. "Do you like it?"
I think my wide eyes spoke volumes, and I smiled at him, nodding. He laughed – though I couldn't hear the sound, and took me by the hand again, leading me through the diamond archway into the heaving crowd of the club.
We wound our way through throngs of people, dancing like their lives depended on it, navigating our way towards, I presumed, one of the staircases. I let Oliver lead me, for he obviously knew where he was going. He led me up one of the black staircases up to the largest balcony which overlooked the whole floor. Another of the well-built bouncers guarded a velvet rope at the top of the stairs. He spoke to Oliver briefly, before letting us through. It was quieter, as if a muffling charm had been placed around the balcony. There was a bar at the far wall, and tables around the walls, as well as a massive dance floor, filled with even more people.
We wound our way through, towards the bar. Oliver leaned in close and said, "If I know my team, I know where they are."
"Wood! Wood!" Liam came out of nowhere, jumping onto Oliver's back. He dropped my hand and rolled his eyes. "I've missed you, bro! Where the hell have you been? Gallivanting?"
"Get off, you!" Oliver laughed. The shorter man dropped from his back and rounded on him. "I take it you've already drank the bar dry?"
"Not quite yet, but I'm working on it!" Liam grinned. Just then, he spotted me. "Ah, Miss Bell! Fancy meeting you here. You look ..." Wyatt, for lack of a better expression, oggled me. Apparently he couldn't articulate just what I was and continued staring. I blushed terribly.
"Oi, eyes in, mate," Oliver said, his accent thickening. He said it in good humour, but all the same steered me away from his friend. "It seems that I have my work cut out this evening," he laughed.
"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.
Just then, Joscelind appeared at Oliver's elbow. "Goooood evening kiddy-winks," she grinned. "Where have you two been all night?"
"We just arrived," Oliver said, tactfully. Joscelind smiled, realising he was evading the question.
"Katie, you look absolutely amazing. I may as well have turned up in my training gear, standing next to you! Where did you get that dress? It's gorgeous! Oh, listen to me, I sound like such a girl. I've clearly drank too much already."
I mouthed wordlessly at the barrage of words that had been suddenly thrown at me.
"Don't be silly, Joss. You look beautiful too," Oliver said, sensing my discomfort. I nodded fervently.
"Oh, Oliver. You're such a sweetheart. I should introduce you to my husband again. He could learn a few things from you," she said, finishing the red wine that had been in her hand. "Hey, Katie, I'll buy you a drink. Come on." She looped her arm through mine and pulled me away from Oliver. I looked back at him desperately to see him grin and shrug at my situation. The crowd closed behind us as Joscelind dragged me towards the bar.
"It's okay, Joscelind, you really don't have to buy me a drink," I told her as she tried to get the attention of one of the barmen at the busy bar.
"Oh, call me Joss. Everyone else does. And of course I do! You're going to be looking after us. We need to keep you sweet. Although, by the looks of it, our baby Oliver has already got that covered, hmm?" she winked. I blushed, and shook my head innocently, unsure of whether Oliver wanted his team to know our past. The barman finally took notice and took her order of two white wines. She handed one to me with a wink. "I've watched little Oliver grow up, you know. And I've watched him while his unhappiness with that bitch took over. I am so glad that he has you, Katie."
I blinked at her, unsure of what to say. She smiled, and took a long drink from her glass. I followed suit, almost downing my entire glass in nervousness. "We aren't … We have a history, Oliver and I. Best friends at Hogwarts. That's all."
She smiled knowingly. "He used to talk about you – when he was fresh out of Hogwarts and on the reserves. It used to drive the team mad. He insisted that you were this champion Chaser, and that the three reserve Chasers didn't have a patch on you. And every time he said your name, there was this glimmer … a sad one, but it was there. Like he'd loved and lost you, you know? And now – when he's with you, Katie, it's like he's a completely different person. Since he made the starting team, he's been so … not miserable, exactly. Stoic, is probably a better word. And when he found out about Cassandra's affair, then came the misery. His play just got … robotic. Everything about him did. It was horrible to know that nothing I could say could make it better. It killed Liam to watch his best friend destroy himself. And Oliver really did give it his best shot. And now … Katie, he's smiling. I hadn't seen Oliver smile in such a long time." Joss smiled sadly. "That lot - they're my boys. When they're unhappy, I'm unhappy. I worry about them all the time – ask my husband. They're like my kids. I'm just so pleased that he's found you again."
I listened to her talk, tears glittering in my eyes.
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry! Don't cry!" She dithered about me, settling for patting me on the shoulder.
"No, no. It's not your fault. That was just so … I'm glad Oliver had someone to look after him. He'll tell you a million times that he can look after himself, but you know as well as I that he just … he needs someone sometimes. And I wasn't there for him for the longest time." I managed to hold my tears in, and I finished my wine. "Thank you," I said sincerely.
She smiled, and took my hand. "C'mon. You need to meet my husband. He'll love you."
"Katie, let me buy you a drink?"
I'd been talking to Joss, her husband and Phil for a few minutes before Liam took my elbow and, with my apologies, I went with him.
A vodka lemonade was pressed into my hand. "I wanted to talk to you, Katie. I hope that's okay?"
I smiled at him, clearly drunk. "Of course it is, Liam. Is everything okay?"
He motioned for me to sit down in the booth we'd been standing next to. I gave him a quizzical look to his serious one, but sat down anyway. "I just wanted to say that … Well, one, that Oliver is the luckiest man alive tonight. You look absolutely stunning." I blushed at his compliment. "And two … well, it's awkward, see."
My brow furrowed. "What is?"
"He's happy, Katie. So happy – you wouldn't believe. He wakes me up at five am with this stupid whistling. I mean really, I'm just about wishing he was depressed again – No, I don't mean that. I much prefer him happy. Please don't tell him I said that, okay? In fact, any of this. Promise?"
He was talking super-fast, it was hard to keep track. I nodded, catching his last question. "I promise."
"He … he really needs you. I didn't think he could cope with losing anyone else from his life like he lost you, and then he lost Cass. He's been on a knife's edge for months. He was on self-destruct. It was … just horrible. And nothing that anyone said could help. And then … Merlin, he kissed you on his Birthday, and he was just this new person! It just proved that it'd been you all along. Don't … please don't let him push you away. Even if it doesn't work out with you two being together … You pushed him away before. Please just … I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that to him again." Liam dropped his eyes to the table guiltily.
I knew that he was right. That I'd done so much damage to Oliver when we were at school. And I knew that he needed me now, after his breakup with Cassie. And I knew that I really needed him too.
I leaned over the table and placed my hand on Liam's. "Honestly … Liam, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I couldn't do that to him again. It was awful enough the first time. We've both grown up, now."
"Speak for yourself. He's still a massive kid sometimes."
"Good. I'm so glad of that. And I'm really glad he has you, too."
Liam smirked at me. "Has me?" He laughed. "Oh, hey, Ollie's never had me, Katie. He may think that he's some kind of sex God, but he's nothing in comparison to moi." He winked, and I knew then that it had been Liam's idea for Oliver to take me to Paris. I slapped his arm slightly and stood up, kissing Liam on the cheek, and left him to his drink.
The night continued, and many drinks had been pressed into my hand. My brain felt fuzzy as I spoke to everyone. Oliver hadn't been around for quite some time, and I vaguely wondered where he had gotten to as Lewis told me about knocking Benjy out with one of the Bludgers the week previous at a training session. Benjy shook his head along with the story.
"The point in having Beaters is to stop that sort of thing happening, you know," he said matter of factly to the younger male.
"But it was hilarious, mate! Like a sack of potatoes – seriously Katie. Funniest thing that's happened in weeks!" Lewis guffawed, and Alex laughed along with him.
"Hey …" Alex said, eyebrows furrowing as he looked over my head to the other side of the balcony. "Tornadoes are here?"
My eyes widened. Roger …
Oliver.
Very sorry for the delay. You guys know the drill by now. I'm terrible at updating. Thanks for sticking with it, though. xx