This is how I imagined the scene from Harry's third year when Oliver "tries to drown himself" in the locker room after Gryffindor looses against Hufflepuff. This was a quick thing I wrote, so constructive criticisms are welcome and much appreciated (as always). Please R&R!

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. If they were, I'd be living, well, not here.


We had lost.

It was as though more than just icy sheets of water were falling from the sky. As though it was more than lightning that singed the ground. More than thunder that ripped apart the world.

I had failed. Harry had been escorted to the hospital wing, and yet I could barely bring myself to move.

The water tumbling from the showerhead had long since grown cold, running endlessly down my crooked nose. I couldn't turn it off. I hadn't even bothered to change out of my quidditch robes. Pathetic.

And so I sat there in the shower, in sopping wool staring at the grimy off-white tiles with a hole in my chest the size of a loch and twice as empty.

"Oliver?"

The voice echoed slightly. I knew that voice. But I was somewhere too far removed from reality to place it.

"Captain?"

A girl.

"Wood?"

Katie.

I leaned my head back against the wall as her footsteps neared. First her shoes came into view, mud-splattered and barely holding up. Then the rest of her - Gryffindor sweater and jeans, paired with a worried frown. My heart started beating again.

"Oliver, what the bloody hell are you doing?" Her voice cracked with exhaustion, and she ran her fingers through the stream of water cascading onto me. She turned it off quickly.

"Jesus! Oliver, you stupid prat, you're going to catch hypothermia and-" the rest of her babbling was cut out as she ran back to the lockers, slamming doors open in search of something.

I tried to find the will to reassure her. I was supposed to be there for her, not the other way around.

Katie returned, a stack of towels in hand, and dropped to the floor beside me.

"Oliver," she started, tugging off my quidditch pads, "You're starting to really worry me. Can you move?"

"We lost," I said thickly, leaning forwards to let her lift the padding over my head.

"That happens sometimes, you thick-headed git!" she ground out, pulling my soaked jersey from my body and throwing it out of the stall, "We just have to do better next time."

"My fault," I muttered as she wrapped a towel tightly around my shoulders, "I shouldn't have pushed so hard."

Katie stopped, staring me in the eye with a steely set to her mouth, "Oliver. It's no one's fault. Now get up. Get up, I said. You need to get your blood flowing, and I'm not going to change your pants for you."

At least I had the decency to blush, "Right. I'm sorry, Kates, I'm being a prick." I used the wall to pull myself up. Now the top of her head reached my collar bone.

She looked up at me, pausing for a second. My breathing was erratic. She was so close. And I was such a prick.

"I grabbed you sweatpants," She gave me a grin and turned around so I could put them on.

As I stripped I asked, "How's Harry?"

"He's awake. Asked how you were." I felt a lump of shame rise in my throat.

I pulled on my trousers and used the towel to dry off my hair. Katie turned around, her eyes flickering to my bare chest so quickly I almost missed it. I swallowed slowly.

"Coming?" She raised her eyebrows, turning swiftly and walking away.

"Yeah. Oh, and Kates?" I asked softly, following her, "Thank you. Really."

She gave me that small, secret smile I loved so much before ambling to the door.


Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!