Chapter Six

The next Monday started out on a rather odd note for Ainsley.

Actually, that wasn't exactly true. Everything was perfectly normal, until Cedric Diggory approached her in the Great Hall, before she could reach the Gryffindor table. "Ainsley, could I have a word with you?" he asked softly.

"Of course, Cedric." She let him lead her some distance away from the other students. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh! No—not with you," he replied. "It's just that—well, I've been having a bit of trouble with Ancient Runes lately, and…"

"And…?" She didn't want to make him nervous, really—although he was adorable when he blushed—but she didn't know quite what he was asking.

"And I was wondering if you might help me," he said quickly, the words coming out all in one breath.

"Oh." So he had been asking for her help, after all. "But we're in the same class, Cedric. Don't you think you'd better find an older student to help you with that?"

"I would, if any seventh years were as good with Ancient Runes as you are." He smiled beseechingly. "Come on, Ainsley. You know this stuff inside and out. You're the best in the whole school."

She honestly didn't know if it was the compliment, or his shy smile—or the fact that Wood was staring curiously at them from the Gryffindor table—that made her relent. "All right, but only because you have to keep your marks up. Can't afford to lose a Quidditch player, can we? Oliver would positively kill me if the teams weren't evenly matched."

"Oliver…" He trailed off and glanced toward the Gryffindor table. "Right. Wood. Er—we'll talk later, all right? Then maybe we can get a study schedule worked out?"

"That sounds fine, Cedric." She smiled briefly at him and made her way through the crowd—students were still pouring in, inexplicably—to her table, where she took a seat. A seat directly between the Weasley twins, she realized a second too late, as she was met with matching smirks from either side. "Morning, Fred. George. Did you sleep well?"

"Only because I dreamt of you, Ains," Fred replied. "What was that about?"

"What was what about?" she asked innocently.

"You and Diggory," George said from her other side. "Looked like he had something important to say."

Across the table, Wood mumbled something into his porridge, but Ainsley ignored him. "He just wants some help with Ancient Runes, that's all."

"Why would he want help from you?" Wood asked darkly.

"You've asked for her help loads of times already, Oliver," George snapped back at him.

Wood rolled his eyes at George, then looked at Ainsley with a slightly amused expression. "Well, that's only because she knows Ancient Runes inside and out. But seriously, Ains," he continued. "Watch out for Diggory. He seems decent enough, but I think he might want more than just passing marks."

"Then he might get it," she replied casually, hardly able to hide her smile when Wood choked on his porridge. He looked up at her, shocked, and she laughed. "The best marks in the class, Oliver. That is what you meant, isn't it?"

* * *

"It's just that I feel like I'm taking advantage of you," Cedric protested, as he and Ainsley sat at a table in the Gryffindor common room with their Ancient Runes homework.

"Why?" Ainsley asked, leaning across Cedric to point her quill at part of his translation. "That's persevere, Cedric. Not preserve."

He sighed, crossing out the word. "Just goes to show, I'm awful with these translations. Looks like I'm going to need a lot more help with this, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," replied Ainsley. "And I don't think you're taking advantage of me. It helps me just as much as it helps you."

From across the common room, Wood rolled his eyes at them. "It helps me just as much as it helps you," he muttered to himself, in a considerably awful impression of Ainsley's voice. "Right. I'm sure it does. Tutoring a brainless git like Diggory isn't going to do anything for her Ancient Runes marks."

"And I suppose tutoring a brainless git like you is?" Percy piped up, from across the table. He glanced over his shoulder at the pair, before turning back to Wood. "Honestly, Oliver, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were jealous."

He almost laughed. "Jealous? Me? Are you daft?"

"I said, if I didn't know better. And I do know better." Percy shrugged, glancing back down at his Transfiguration essay. "You wouldn't waste your time with someone like Ainsley Waters, if you didn't have to."

"And I only have to because of Ancient Runes," he added, almost cringing as the lie escaped his lips. "Well…and because of our families."

Percy nodded thoughtfully. "Right. You're not jealous, are you?"

Wood looked past his friend, his gaze falling on Ainsley, just as she laughed lightly at something Cedric had said. His stomach clenched at the sound of her laughter, and he was relatively sure his teeth did too, but that didn't mean anything…did it? "Of course I'm not jealous," he replied softly. "I have better things to do with my time."

Of course, those "better things" only entailed finishing his Transfiguration essay and scribbling a quick note on a scrap of parchment, asking Ainsley to meet him later that night. Then he left Percy's table and headed toward his dormitory, dropping the note on Ainsley's table as he passed. She scanned it quickly and flashed him a smile, before sliding the parchment under her notes and looking back at Cedric's homework. "So what about these two, Cedric?" he heard her ask, as he started up the stairs. "Isn't it easier to try to translate them in context?"

Her voice faded away as he closed the dormitory door behind him, crossing the room to throw himself face-first onto his bed, his books hitting the bedspread beside him. He had a lot of thinking to do in the next few hours, it seemed.

But he didn't think—he was barely able to let his mind wander for five minutes before he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, which really wasn't a bad place to be. And it especially wasn't a bad place to be when he wasn't dreaming, which of course he wasn't.

His sleep, in fact, was so dreamless and so deep that he didn't wake for hours—or at least, he assumed it was hours, as his dormmates were already in their beds when he finally opened his eyes. He could hear Percy snoring, but he knew the other boy's sleep could be disturbed by a pin dropping, so he slid out of bed and crept out of the dormitory as silently as possible.

Ainsley was already in the common room when he reached it, curled up in an armchair in front of the fire, her Divination textbook open in her lap. She looked up as he crossed the room, smiling wryly. "You're late."

"Am not," he mumbled, dropping into the chair across from hers. "You're early, that's all."

"Right. And that explains why I came down here precisely at eleven—like your note said—and I had to wait fifteen minutes before you. Because I'm early." Se laughed softly. "What's your real excuse?"

He shrugged. "Fell asleep. All that Ancient Runes work without a tutor takes a lot out of a man."

"You didn't even do Ancient Runes, Oliver. Are you always a liar, or is it just with me?"

"Just with you. You're usually so gullible."

Ainsley shook her head with a short laugh. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response. How is your Ancient Runes?"

"It's going well enough," replied Wood. "Might be even better, if you hadn't abandoned me in favor of Diggory."

"I thought you liked him well enough, as long as you weren't opposing him in Quidditch," she murmured.

Well that was true—or had been, he supposed, if he was going to be completely honest. He didn't truly dislike Cedric Diggory; it was mostly only the thought of him with Ainsley that made Wood's stomach turn. But there was no way to tell Ainsley that without giving her the wrong idea—or maybe it was the right idea. Either way, he wasn't ready to share it. "I like him well enough, if you like him," he lied. "And you do like him?"

"Well, of course I like him. He's really decent, and—" She broke off abruptly, her eyes widening as she stared at him. "Oliver, are you asking if I fancy him?"

"Well…" He trailed off, ducking his head to hide his reddening cheeks. He hadn't intended to insinuate that Ainsley fancied Diggory—or maybe he had. And now that it was out, there was really only one thing to do. "Not that I was really wondering, and not that I think it's any of my business, but…well, do you?"

Ainsley flushed and dropped her gaze. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I don't know why you care, anyway."

"I don't. I just—I was wondering, that's all. Because I'm your friend."

"Friend. Right." She sighed. "So Quidditch starts up soon, yeah?"

"Yeah, that's right," replied Wood, feeling the smile already beginning to light up his face. "We'll be starting practice at the beginning of October, and I think we're set to have a brilliant season. Everyone knows Gryffindor's got the best ruddy team in the school."

"That's because they've got the best ruddy Captain in the school," she said softly. "And don't argue that, Oliver. Only one who might come close to you is Flint, and we all know he's a great sodding prat."

Wood beamed. He couldn't help it, really; compliments on Quidditch always pleased him, and compliments on Quidditch from Ainsley were even better, for some reason. "You really think so, Ains?"

"Of course I do." She grinned. "You'll have a fantastic season, I'm sure. And I'll be there, cheering you on every step of the way. You know that right?"

If possible, his smile grew even bigger. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

* * *

The days flew by after that, and before Wood knew it, it was October, and the Quidditch season was about to begin. The first Thursday of the month, he held a meeting with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, in a corner of the common room. Ainsley, though he hadn't asked her to, moved to the library to study with Cedric—probably so he wouldn't hear about the Gryffindor team's strategies. He made a mental note to thank her in the future.

That weekend, Wood and Ainsley switched their regular Saturday study session to Friday night—which meant that Ainsley had to rearrange Cedric's session as well—so Wood could be ready for Gryffindor's first practice on Saturday morning.

And ready he was—up well before the sun, possessed of an almost manic energy that only the thought of Quidditch could give him. Percy stuck his head through the curtains of his bed once, glaring at Wood as he tried to gather the Quidditch plays he'd been tweaking since August. "Would you mind at least trying to be quite, Oliver? It's before dawn."

"Actually, it's after dawn," replied Wood, pointing to the sunlight beginning to stream through their window. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think the rest of my team might be up by now."

In truth, he knew they weren't, but it was a good enough excuse to get away from Percy's complaining. Wood checked his stack of plays, straightened his robes, and left the dormitory, letting the door slam somewhat loudly behind him. He felt a bit guilty for having disturbed his other dormmates, but really, it was somehow more important just to annoy Percy at that moment.

The common room was empty when he reached the bottom of the staircase, and he glanced around quickly before taking a chair in front of the fire. His team would be down soon enough, he decided, and until then he could just look over his plays once more—or twice more.

Not five minutes had passed before he heard a set of footsteps on the girls' staircase. He didn't turn around, or even look up from the parchment in his hands. "Alicia? Katie? Angelina?"

"Wrong, wrong, and wrong," came Ainsley's soft voice, from behind him. "They're still upstairs, moaning about Dictator Wood and the Quidditch regimen from Hell. Give them five minutes, and they'll be over it."

"They always are." He turned to grin at her. "What're you doing up so early, Ainsley? I'd have thought you'd be making the most of your Saturday off."

"It's not a Saturday off, though," she replied, sitting cross-legged in the chair across from him and dropping the books in her arms into her lap. "I've got another Quidditch Captain to tutor this morning."

"Ah, so Diggory stole you from me, did he?"

"Actually, you stole me from him," she retorted. "I had to switch my Friday night and Saturday morning, because someone needed the morning free to practice Quidditch."

Wood stared at her, not the least bit amused. "D'you want us to lose the Quidditch Cup, Ainsley?"

"Of course not." She laughed softly. "Although I'd venture that's just as much because I wouldn't want to see your face if Slytherin won again. And speaking of Slytherin, shouldn't you make sure that Flint hasn't stolen your pitch again?"

A stab of panic hit his stomach, and he knew it was visible on his face—for a second, at least, before he recovered. "Flint's not going to steal the pitch. He hasn't got a Seeker who bought his way onto the team and needs the extra training, this season." He gazed at her, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"I don't know," said Wood, shrugging. "Maybe you don't want me to run into your precious Diggory. Maybe you'd rather keep your Quidditch Captains separate."

Ainsley stared at him, and if he didn't know better, he'd have sworn she thought he'd gone mad. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wouldn't want Cedric to see the plays you've worked so hard on? Honestly, Oliver, why do you always assume the worst?"

"Because then you're prepared for the worst, when it happens."

"And if it doesn't happen?" she asked softly.

He grinned. "Then it's all a sort of pleasant surprise. You can't fault me for wanting to be prepared, Ains."

Before she could reply to that, a series of footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of the other six members of the Quidditch team. Ainsley was barely able to scoot her chair out of the way before Fred and George bounced directly in front of her and descended on Wood, each grabbing an arm and tugging him out of his chair. "Come along, Captain Wood, it's time for practice," said George.

"Stop talking to the pretty girl and come play dictator to us," Fred added. "We're ready and waiting for your leadership."

Wood let the twins pull him for a few steps before he shook them off, returning to his chair to tuck his plays under one arm and take his broom in the other hand. He flashed a grin at Ainsley before he led the team across the common room to the portrait hole, which he pushed open—directly into something.

Or rather, someone, he realized as he came face to face with a shocked Cedric Diggory. The younger boy's eyes widened, and he took a quick step back. "Wood. Hello. I'm—er, I'm actually looking for Ainsley. Have you seen her?"

Wood stared at him for a few seconds, trying to determine exactly what had made Cedric so nervous. Then it occurred to him that not only was Cedric trying to get past Wood and into Gryffindor Tower, but he was trying to do so with the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team blocking his path. He wanted to offer Cedric a smile, or at least some reassuring words, but for some reason, all he could manage was a curt nod. "She's inside, waiting for you. Don't know how you've got her awake so early, but you've done it."

Cedric nodded. "So if I…can I just get in there? I mean, is that sort of thing allowed?"

"Of course it is," Alicia spoke up, stepping aside to let Cedric through the portrait hole. "Enjoy your studying, Cedric."

The boy nodded and stepped into the Gryffindor common room, the Fat Lady's portrait swinging closed behind him. The Quidditch team followed Wood through the halls in complete silence for a few seconds, until George snickered. "Enjoy your studying, Cedric," he squeaked, in an obvious imitation of Alicia. "It's almost pathetic how obvious you are, Alicia."

"Obvious about what?" she asked lightly.

"D'you honestly think that no one can see that you fancy Diggory?" He laughed. "Not the greatest choice, really, because he is rather thick—but honestly, Alicia, it's almost as bad as the way Ainsley is with—"

With who, no one found out, because Angelina chose that moment to interrupt. "So, Fred, are you excited about practice?"

Fred grinned. "Not half as excited as I am about the speech Oliver's sure to give today."

Wood ignored that comment—actually, he ignored most everything around him, walking from Gryffindor Tower to the Quidditch pitch in complete silence. It wasn't until the team reached the locker room and had changed into their practice robes that he finally spoke—and even then, it was only to give the speech he'd been practicing.

Fred and George didn't take it as seriously as he'd hoped they would—but then again, he hadn't really expected them to, so it wasn't too upsetting. The rest of the team, to their credit, managed to keep their eyes open and appear at least somewhat attentive. Of course, by the time he was ready to let them actually practice, they all looked considerably fidgety, and he couldn't blame them, being more than ready to mount his broomstick and take to the air himself.

And that was just what he did, when he released the team from the locker room—mounted his broomstick, kicked off from the ground, and took a quick practice lap around the pitch. The smile came to his face almost unconsciously, the second the wind hit his hair, and by the time he reached the spot where the rest of the team had gathered, he couldn't control his grin.

This was always the best part of his autumn, and he was determined to make this autumn the best one yet.

* * *

Two weeks later, the school was abuzz with activity. A Hogsmeade weekend had been announced that evening, and it seemed that every student was beyond excited. The Gryffindor common room had been so loud it was almost intolerable, so Ainsley had escaped to meet Cedric in the library.

But even the library had lost its studious edge, it seemed. They'd barely been seated for ten minutes before the fifth mention of Honeyduke's from the next table made Ainsley throw her quill down with a sigh. "Honestly how is anyone supposed to concentrate if the entire school talking about Hogsmeade?"

The Ravenclaws at the next table glared at her, and she rolled her eyes. "I don't know why you're so upset. Even third-years should know that homework is more important than Honeyduke's. Ravenclaws, aren't you? Shouldn't you be concerned with your studies, anyway?"

"And who are you?" a boy asked. "Not a prefect, are you?"

"No, Cornfoot, she's not," said Cedric. "But that's by her choice, and no one else's." He smiled at Ainsley, lowering his voice as he spoke to her. "It's their first Hogsmeade weekend. Stands to reason they'll be excited about it. You were, when you were a third year."

Was she? Ainsley couldn't remember—or maybe she just hadn't seemed quite so obnoxious to herself, at the time. "I didn't say I wasn't excited about it. I just want to finish my homework."

"Right." He glanced down at his Arithmancy book, then grinned back up at her. "So you're excited?"

She smiled. "Of course. It's always nice to get away from the school grounds for a while, don't you think?"

"I think so." Cedric picked up his quill, twirling it idly between his fingers. "So. Are you going with anyone? I suppose Wood's asked you by now."

"Oliver?" She laughed. "No, Oliver hasn't asked me. I don't know why he would—and anyway, I don't think he even knows we have a Hogsmeade weekend scheduled. They've been at Quidditch practice all evening."

Cedric nodded slowly. "All right. So assuming he doesn't ask you, and you don't ask him…would you want to go with me?"

"Why would—" The question stalled abruptly as his own question sank into her head. "Oh. Oh. You want me to…?"

"Yes. I mean. If you want to." He smiled hesitantly. "You don't have to feel oblig—"

"I know," she interrupted. "And I don't. I want to, Cedric."

His hesitant smile widened into a full-blown grin. "Really? I thought for sure you'd have waited for Wood to ask you."

"Why would Oliver ask me?" asked Ainsley, one eyebrow rising as she gazed at Cedric. "Why would I want him to ask me? I'm going with you, aren't I?" He nodded, and she smiled brightly. "And that's as it should be. I like you, Cedric. I like spending time with you. And I'm glad you asked me to go to Hogsmeade."

"I'm glad you said yes," said Cedric softly.

Ainsley didn't reply to that; she just smiled, bending back over her Transfiguration homework. Going to Hogsmeade with Cedric would no doubt make her the envy of every girl in her year, and she honestly did like spending time with him. But still…part of her couldn't forget what he'd said, about her preferring to go with Wood.

Would she have preferred to go with Wood?

* * *

Later that night, it wasn't Wood but Hermione that Ainsley found in the common room. She hadn't really expected to find Wood—they'd met almost every night recently, but he'd hinted that Quidditch practice was about to turn especially rough—but Hermione was definitely a surprise.

The girl sat alone at a table, books spread out before her; Ainsley recognized one as the introductory Ancient Runes text. It certainly looked like a lot of work—and it also looked like Hermione was struggling just a bit.

Ainsley stood there for a few seconds before she decided it would really be best to stop staring and announce her presence. "Hello, Hermione. You're up late."

Hermione glanced up at her, then bent back over her parchment. "So are you, Ainsley. If you're looking for Oliver Wood, you just missed him."

"Why would I be looking for Oliver?" she asked innocently.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Ainsley?" Hermione looked up from her homework again, leveling Ainsley with a gaze so intense that she might have sworn the girl was thirty instead of thirteen. "I know you spend almost every night down here. It's a wonder either of you gets any sleep."

"Some of us need more sleep than others," she murmured. Hermione shrugged and bent back over her translation. "Well, while I'm up, I might as well be of some use. D'you need any help with that?"

"How will I learn, if I don't do the work for myself?"

"How will you learn, if you don't know how to do the work?" she countered. "It's just as well, though. I can't tutor every Ancient Runes student."

Hermione, absorbed in her studies once more, didn't reply. Ainsley watched her for a few more seconds, waiting for at least an acknowledgement. Receiving none, and not wanting to stay around to annoy the other girl, she shrugged to herself and headed back up the staircase.

Haldir was at the window when she returned, beating his left wing softly against the glass. She cracked open the window just enough to let him fly inside, then untied the scrap of parchment bound to his leg. He hooted softly, nipped at her elbow, and took off again into the night.

Ainsley closed the window and took the parchment back to her bed. She unfolded the scrap, reaching for her wand, which she'd shoved beneath her pillow before heading into the common room. "Lumos," she whispered, maneuvering the soft light to illuminate the scrawled words.

Quidditch was especially rough tonight. Don't know what I'm going to do that lunatic Captain, really, but I'll figure it out in the morning. I'll miss talking to you tonight, but I'm sure we'll make up for lost time later.

Oliver

P.S. Lucky your madman of an owl showed up at my window. Otherwise, I'd have had to leave this with Hermione.

She laughed softly, folding the parchment carefully. "Nox," she whispered, sliding both the wand and parchment under her pillow in the fading light. She drew the curtains around her bed, flopping back against the pillows with a wry smile. "Doesn't know what he's going to do with that Captain," she murmured, "What a strange boy."

Of course, he was a strange boy whose note currently rested beneath her pillow, but that was another story entirely.