CHAPTER FIFTEEN
To say Hermione was not looking forward to the motivational talk was the understatement of the year. She was dreading it, loathing the thought of it, hating it with every fibre in her body.
But there was no way she could stop time. She was momentarily distracted by Madam Hooch who asked to speak to her briefly in the morning but then the afternoon came and Harry and Ron dragged her out of the common room and into the Library (strange as it may sound) and sat her down with all of the other Seventh Years.
At first Hermione avoided scanning the room for Oliver. She just wanted him to disappear off the face of the planet. Or even better, to have all the memories of him erased from her mind. Why did it have to end? Why?
But when he heard him start talking, she had to look up, it was like she was drawn to his voice. The accent and deepness of it. It put her in a trance and for a moment, all that she could hear and see was him.
She wasn't listening to the actual words he was saying, he could have been describing how it felt to pat a gorilla for all she knew... and cared. All that mattered was that he was standing there, only ten metres in front of her and she couldn't even touch him.
Their eyes locked for a moment. Both quickly looked away.
Ron rested a hand on Hermione's arm. He knew she was hurting.
The talk seemed to go very quickly. After what seemed like five minutes, they were all ushered out of the library and back to their respective common rooms. Hermione pushed her way through the crowds, trying to get past. The last thing Oliver saw of Hermione was the back of her head and the long brown hair that he'd loved the scent of, the feel of and how he could get lost forever with her. He turned back towards the Puddlemere group who were ready to go back to the Head Quarters. It had been a very long week and it was just about to get longer.
"Wood," said a familiar voice. He spun around at the sound of his name and found himself standing right in front of Madam Hooch, his old flying instructor.
"Professor," he exclaimed surprised to see her.
"Hello," she replied. "Don't even think about leaving yet," she said. "Come with me."
Without another word, she mysteriously turned around and without thinking, Oliver followed her all the way up to the astrology tower.
They ran up the stone steps to the top of the astrology tower. They passed numerous windows, all looking out to the Quidditch Pitch that he'd been so fond of during his school years.
Finally, out of breath, Madam Hooch led him down a corridor to a place he'd never seen before.
"Welcome to my office," she said.
"Your office?" asked a disbelieving Oliver. "You're office was never here."
"No," agreed Madam Hooch. "But it is now," and that's all she said.
Oliver slowly nodded. "Okay then..."
"Wood, something has come to my attention."
"What?"
"I've watched you fly for many many years. From when you were a first year to now, in your professional days," she said.
"Yes."
"And that means I have been made aware of your style... so well infact, that you might as well be my son."
"Yes."
"Oliver," she said. It was a shock to hear her call him by his first name instead of simply 'Wood'. "Oliver, something is bothering you and it has for a long time hasn't it? I come to a lot of your Quidditch games, whether you knew it or not and I can TELL something has been bothering you for the last couple of months."
Oliver opened his mouth to protest but she shushed him. "No, I KNOW something is up."
He gave up and looked at his hands. Leaning against the stone wall he stared out at the big wide skies.
"You know you can trust me," said Madam Hooch. "I'm a friend more than a teacher and I look upon you as a friend now Wood. You can talk to me."
He nodded and slowly opened his mouth. She deserved to know. He deserved to tell somebody. He slowly took a deep breath and began to speak.
To say Hermione was not looking forward to the motivational talk was the understatement of the year. She was dreading it, loathing the thought of it, hating it with every fibre in her body.
But there was no way she could stop time. She was momentarily distracted by Madam Hooch who asked to speak to her briefly in the morning but then the afternoon came and Harry and Ron dragged her out of the common room and into the Library (strange as it may sound) and sat her down with all of the other Seventh Years.
At first Hermione avoided scanning the room for Oliver. She just wanted him to disappear off the face of the planet. Or even better, to have all the memories of him erased from her mind. Why did it have to end? Why?
But when he heard him start talking, she had to look up, it was like she was drawn to his voice. The accent and deepness of it. It put her in a trance and for a moment, all that she could hear and see was him.
She wasn't listening to the actual words he was saying, he could have been describing how it felt to pat a gorilla for all she knew... and cared. All that mattered was that he was standing there, only ten metres in front of her and she couldn't even touch him.
Their eyes locked for a moment. Both quickly looked away.
Ron rested a hand on Hermione's arm. He knew she was hurting.
The talk seemed to go very quickly. After what seemed like five minutes, they were all ushered out of the library and back to their respective common rooms. Hermione pushed her way through the crowds, trying to get past. The last thing Oliver saw of Hermione was the back of her head and the long brown hair that he'd loved the scent of, the feel of and how he could get lost forever with her. He turned back towards the Puddlemere group who were ready to go back to the Head Quarters. It had been a very long week and it was just about to get longer.
"Wood," said a familiar voice. He spun around at the sound of his name and found himself standing right in front of Madam Hooch, his old flying instructor.
"Professor," he exclaimed surprised to see her.
"Hello," she replied. "Don't even think about leaving yet," she said. "Come with me."
Without another word, she mysteriously turned around and without thinking, Oliver followed her all the way up to the astrology tower.
They ran up the stone steps to the top of the astrology tower. They passed numerous windows, all looking out to the Quidditch Pitch that he'd been so fond of during his school years.
Finally, out of breath, Madam Hooch led him down a corridor to a place he'd never seen before.
"Welcome to my office," she said.
"Your office?" asked a disbelieving Oliver. "You're office was never here."
"No," agreed Madam Hooch. "But it is now," and that's all she said.
Oliver slowly nodded. "Okay then..."
"Wood, something has come to my attention."
"What?"
"I've watched you fly for many many years. From when you were a first year to now, in your professional days," she said.
"Yes."
"And that means I have been made aware of your style... so well infact, that you might as well be my son."
"Yes."
"Oliver," she said. It was a shock to hear her call him by his first name instead of simply 'Wood'. "Oliver, something is bothering you and it has for a long time hasn't it? I come to a lot of your Quidditch games, whether you knew it or not and I can TELL something has been bothering you for the last couple of months."
Oliver opened his mouth to protest but she shushed him. "No, I KNOW something is up."
He gave up and looked at his hands. Leaning against the stone wall he stared out at the big wide skies.
"You know you can trust me," said Madam Hooch. "I'm a friend more than a teacher and I look upon you as a friend now Wood. You can talk to me."
He nodded and slowly opened his mouth. She deserved to know. He deserved to tell somebody. He slowly took a deep breath and began to speak.