We were at the park in Hogsmeade - Oliver and I. He was trying to teach me how to play Quidditch. I wasn't a very patient sudent, or a fast learner. For the hundredth time that day, I found myself hurtling toward the ground, and, also for the hundredth time that day, Oliver grabbed me from my broom just before it crashed to the ground, and landed softly on the terf. I leaned against him, regaining my land legs.

"Oh, Oliver, I wish we could stay like this for ever." I sighed against his chest.

He pulled away, leaving a hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes.

"I'm an athlete, a gypsy.

I never belong.

I never stay.

I'll be gone tomorrow.

Can you stand to stay?"

I sighed and pulled close to him again, murmering, "You're an athlete by nature,

Gypsy by choice.

You always belong,

But choose not to stay.

If you're gone tomorrow,

I'll go your way."

He lifted my chin with his forefinger, and brushed his lips against mine. The kiss was deep, and held all his love for me, and mine for him.

"Thanks, Perce," he said, "but I won't be gone tomorrow, just soon."

"I know, but I will come, to support you, and maybe, you won't feel so lonely."