Just a HARRY POTTER fanfiction…

THE BEST BIRTHDAY

By: balthazor66, 2004

Rating: PG-13

Category: Romance

Pairing: Harry Potter / Oliver Wood

Warning: This story contains a boy-to-boy relationship. Well, just in case you haven't realized… you know what to do if you don't like this kind of story… so long!

Synopsis: Harry's POV. This scene happens long after Harry graduated from Hogwarts, and the War between good wizards under the lead of Dumbledore and Voldemort's followers had long begun. Oliver Wood, who was Harry's boyfriend, participated in the War, and he had been gone for a year and six months. Harry, waited for his return with perseverant patience, though he went through each day with torture without his lost love Oliver by his side. Anyway, that's more or less the core of the story… reviews, please!

Feedback: I know that this pairing [Harry / Oliver] is very rarely made as the main characters of a Harry Potter fanfiction… I don't know why, but I just think the two will make a perfect couple! Heheh uhm, well, they may not be as lovely as the usual Harry / Draco pairing, but I personally think Oliver Wood is totally fit for Harry's match, especially the movie version of him!! And by the way, this story's DEFINITELY a one-shot, 'coz I can't think of anymore plot to continue this… well, maybe I'll figure out a way, but unless people want me to make a sequel to this, I'll close this case as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: The characters in this fanfiction, either featured or mentioned, do not belong to me. I don't own them, at all, and I'm so incredibly furious about that . This fanfic does belong to me, though. Anyway, enjoy! And don't forget to give your reviews!

-----

"Ain't no headlights on the road tonight,

Ain't nobody here to make it right,

'Coz we couldn't seem to find a way, for love to stay

If you had another night to give

I would have another night to live

But you're never gonna see my cry the last goodbye…"

I forced out a pathetic smile as the old song greeted my ears unexpectedly. I leaned against the bar, nursing my merely-untouched vodka and orange while avoiding that typical stare of pure dislike from the bartender in front of me. It had just been three hours of me hanging out—or maybe 'staying' is the correct word for it instead of 'hanging out'—in this club, but it felt like eternity. After all, I had only been having one drink that night, and by the stern look present on his unsympathetic face, I guessed I had transformed from 'paying customer' into 'vexatious bastard' during the painful three hours.

If I didn't do anything at my own will, and if I kept on pretending as if I didn't recognize his already bad-signaling glare, soon I would be on my feet outside the club, all kicked out with no mercy by those burly black-suit bodyguards who'd somehow appear from nowhere. If that ever came true, I wouldn't be able to get back inside ever again in my life, because by then everybody around it would remember me, and my face. Then my only runaway spot wouldn't be accessible anymore.

When that happened, well, I hadn't thought about that kind of possibility yet, to be honest.

It was funny, really, when I thought about it sometimes. Me, the famous Harry Potter, being afraid of getting kicked out of a small club at the Muggle end of London. But I reckoned that was why I chose to go to this area at the first place. The thrill of losing myself among the nonchalant crowd, of being one of them, and of being treated no differently as a person, really could make me forget about life for a moment.

Trust me, it could.

Ignorant as I was, I turned around to face the dance floor. There was a bustling crowd of teenagers, probably in their early twenties, or perhaps hadn't even reached twenty at all like me, dancing slowly in unison with their partners as a mellow song played with full volume all around the room. Most of them were partnering people of the opposite sex, yet my eagle eyes caught a glimpse of a boy-and-boy couple waltzing on the dance floor, mingling themselves with the crowd, their hands clasped together and their eyes locked into each other oh-so-romantically, at one corner.

The sight of them made me laugh at myself in pain out of my mind.

I wished I could be there, in the middle of those party animals, losing myself in dancing as if nothing else mattered in this world, with Oliver by my side.

I grimaced at my drink and suddenly felt alone. My condition was really ironic to the extreme; the crowd that was just about two feet away from me was having fun, hanging out like there was no tomorrow, and here I was, in the very same room with them, all downcast and pessimistic about life.

It all seemed so weird, really. But that was how life goes, on and on and on.

I looked at my watch and saw the date. July 30. Tomorrow would be my birthday. But it meant nothing if Oliver wasn't with me.

Do you still remember my birthday there whenever you are, darling? I asked pointlessly. Do you remember that tomorrow will be the day I turn a year older?

I observed my vodka and orange glass, which was only half-empty by then, and took a sip of the liquid spiritlessly. The drink that could usually turn me on couldn't even satisfy my thirst of love for tonight, and I regretted it for that very reason.

It hurt being a loner, didn't it?

I scanned the crowd idly, not really looking for someone or anything—just to kill my time; I wasn't interested in one-night-stands at the moment. But still, even when I did so, a part of me kept on telling me that somehow my love to Oliver would no longer work out now that he had been gone for a year and a half, and devilishly it began to persuade me to go find a new crush to get infatuated with.

I laughed one more time, this time more bitterly.

What is happening to you, Harry James Potter? I asked myself. You were the one who made a vow not to betray your lover while he isn't around, but why are you also the one who's planning to break it? Where's your old-self now?

I was lost in thoughts, and was startled when I felt myself being shoved by an enormous force off my seat opposite the bar. I fell to the frigid floor below me, my body thumping hard against the solid ceramics, and my drink smashed into pieces onto the ground. I looked up to see three brawny men glaring at me behind their typical sunglasses.

"Out," one of them commanded coldly. "Go by your own will or feel pain."

I stood up, brushing dust off my clothing. "Alright, alright, I'll go out, no need to threaten me like that," I moaned, looking at the men with a sharp stare of my hazel eyes. "But the pushing wasn't necessary; I was about to leave anyway. Who wants to stay longer in an ugly club like this for more than three hours? I'm leaving."

I put a ten-pound note on the table, grasped my coat, then rushed out of the club angrily. My prediction was right; I still got kicked out after all.

Standing on the sidewalk, I combed my raven hair with my fingers desperately, shaking my head a few times to get rid of the dizziness that was spreading rapidly inside my throbbing head. I put on my coat and started to walk along the path heading to my flat not far away, limping here and there since no power was present on my stiff legs. My vision was steadily blurring, and the pain in my head worsened as I tried to focus to see where I was going so that I wouldn't get lost.

After fifteen minutes of great effort to walk properly, I finally arrived at the lobby of my apartment block. I went straight for the lifts, pushed the 'up' button, and waited while leaning against the cold wall. I was out of breath, and my head was hurting like hell. I felt like passing out.

The lift door shuddered open, and I immediately ambled into it. I pushed the button labeled '15' and waited impatiently as the lift moved up to its destination. When it arrived, I went out of it slowly, then proceeded to find my way to my flat. I didn't care of anything else; I just wanted to go inside, throw myself onto bed, and sleep until maybe next week.

When I could finally get to my flat, I rushed into it, closing the automatically-locking door, shook off my shoes, then tossed myself onto my unmade four-poster.

I sighed in relief when I felt the comfort of the bed supporting my powerless body before I closed my eyes.

My mind drifted off, and the next thing I knew, I had fallen asleep.

-----

I dreamed of Oliver.

I dreamed of the very first time he expressed his sincere love to me. The two of us were sitting by the side of the lake at the Hogwarts grounds, feeding the fish with bread crumples while laughing endlessly. It was just about two hours after my graduation ceremony from Hogwarts, and Oliver visited the school, mainly to attend the graduation and meet his old friends who mostly came to the graduation day as well.

"Er—Harry?" I remembered him calling my name to break the fifteen-minute-without-conversation session that was present between us.

"Yeah?" I turned to him instinctively, raising my eyebrows.

Oliver looked down shyly. "Um—there's something I—I want to give you as a present," he said.

"Really? What is it?" I responded eagerly.

He hesitated for a moment, but finally searched inside his jeans pockets to reveal a little box wrapped in red. He gave it to me, his hand shaking with nervousness.

"Whoa! Thanks a million, Oliver!" I exclaimed happily. "Gosh, I never knew you care about other people this much! Thanks!"

Oliver grinned without a word, and I could tell that he was flattered, though somehow embarrassed at the same time.

I unwrapped the present to find a tiny box colored in maroon. Curious as I was, I opened the box and was thoroughly surprised when I saw a heart-shaped necklace nicely-positioned inside it. I gasped in shock, exclaiming, "WHAT?!"

Oliver looked as though he had just heart a death news. His face went pallid, and he carefully asked, "D-don't you like it?"

"It's—it's beautiful, Oliver, but are you sure you're giving this to the correct person?" I said, unable to believe his eyes. "I mean, are you sure you're giving it to me?"

"No, Harry, it's really for you," Oliver said, blushing red. "I—I prepared it specially for you, to be given to you at your graduation day."

"B-but why?" I asked again, still looking at the necklace. "Why do you want to give this to me?"

Oliver blushed even redder. After taking a few deep breaths, he cleared his throat, and said, "Because—because I—I love you, Harry, I really do," in a trembling voice I had never heard coming out of him before. He must be really nervous to the bones at that time.

My eyes widened when I heard him say it. My heart beat faster, and I swore I wasn't hearing right.

My God, was I?

"Wh-what did you say?" I said shakily.

Oliver's face was already as red as a ripe tomato by then. He gulped. "Harry, I said—I said I love you. Weren't you listening?"

I stared at him, flabbergasted. I wanted to just jump into the lake to ensure myself I wasn't dreaming at that time.

I reckoned Oliver interpreted my stupefied expression as a bad sign, because he immediately rose to his feet and continued with an even more trembling voice, "I'm s-sorry, Harry, I—I must go!"

He turned around, then started to run away from me. Puzzled as I was, I responded quickly by chasing him at full speed and, thank God, I could get hold of his left arm to halt him. He tried to break free, but my grip was somehow stronger, so all he could do was grapple helplessly.

"Oliver, what's the matter?" I asked. "We haven't even finished talking!"

"Let me go! Please, let me go!" he shouted, nearly crying by then. "I—I shouldn't have decided to tell you this at the first place, Harry; Dammit, I was stupid, I swear I was stupid!"

"B-but how can you say that?" I asked.

Oliver fell on his knees to the ground powerlessly. "I—I can't understand why I decided to buy you a present and express my feelings to you, Harry, trust me I can't," he said, a bead of tears rolling down his smooth cheek. "Now you know that I'm gay and by tomorrow everybody will find out about it! They'll figure out their friend Oliver Wood's just a faggot jock, and—and…"

"No, Oliver, no, you misunderstood!" I tried to explain desperately. "Please, let me explain, please?"

Oliver shook his head desperately. "Nothing's worth explaining now. Everything's over, Harry," he muttered between sobs.

"Oliver…" I couldn't hold back anymore. I kneeled down in front of him, locked my hazel eyes into his brown ones, reached out to hold his quivering hand, and finally whispered gently, "I—I love you too, alright?"

This time it was Oliver who looked as though he didn't believe his ears. His jaws dropped open, and his eyes narrowed in shock.

"D-do you?" he dared ask.

I nodded with determined expression stuck on my face. I was smiling from ear to ear by then.

Oliver grinned. Without warning, he rushed forward, then caught me in an embrace. I wrapped my arms around him, and we hugged until what seemed like eternity before we released our hold, though half-unwillingly.

He looked at me in the eye, saying a million words just by doing so. He brushed strands of hair off my forehead softly with his fingers, then, before I had even been able to comprehend what was happening, he had locked his lips into mine in a passionate kiss.

Secretly, inside my head, I was smiling.

I had found love in my life.

-----

Oliver bought a flat in the Muggle area of London and begged me to move in with him. I agreed, since I had nowhere to live in outside Hogwarts, and so the two of us began a new life together as a couple.

Surprisingly, Oliver was a very, very romantic lover. He often came home from work—he joined the National Quidditch Team of Great Britain and was paid a nice amount of money every month while on the other hand I just worked as a part-time Auror—bringing me presents. Simple ones, though, like bouquets of roses or heart-shaped chocolate, but that already made me feel loved; the feeling I had never felt all my life. He also designed our flat to be full of magical candles that would ignite themselves automatically after dark, so instead of electric lamps, the flat would be illuminated by golden blazes of fire all over the place at night-time. Moreover, for our room, he placed petals of white roses on our bed and replaced them with new ones every single day so as to add the feeling of ever-present romance.

Smart, wasn't it? That was why I loved him so much.

We spent our days with joy, bliss, and… of course, passion. We weren't worried about anything; we were wealthy enough to not get starved, fulfilled enough with love, and also satisfied enough with the… you know, intimate relationship. I myself felt as if I was living in a heaven made by the person whom I loved the most in this world.

A person named Oliver Wood.

But then, after just a year of happiness, destruction came and ruined my whole life. The War finally broke out, and Oliver, whose patriotism was respectably high, wanted to join the army to help defending the good force under the lead of Dumbledore from the Death Eaters and, the worst of all, Lord Voldemort. When the first news about the War appeared in the Daily Prophet, he contacted the Ministry of Magic at once, asking whether there was a place for him in the army. The Ministry said that there was still plenty of them for volunteers, so he registered straight away.

Then he told me about it, which was the start of chaos.

"No, Oliver, I don't agree!" I yelled furiously at him when he mentioned about it after dinner. "How on earth did you get that crazy idea? I don't agree!"

Oliver took a deep breath. "Harry, dear, please, allow me to go," he said. "This is my duty, my obligation, to defend my kind, our kind! I just can't ignore it! I mean, what if we lost? At least if I join the army I can donate some effort in fighting, if not much! So please, let me go!"

"No! I said no!" I objected stubbornly, putting my hands on his shoulders. "I mean it, Oliver! I just can't let you go!"

"But why?" Oliver demanded with that puppy-look on his face.

I bit my lips in frustration. "You—you can get hurt! I can't bear the pain seeing you hurt, Oliver! And what if you—you died?"

Oliver shook his head rigorously. "No, honey, trust me I won't!" he assured me. "I can take care of myself. Believe me, I'll take care of myself for you while I'm gone."

"That's so sweet of you, but I still can't let you go!" I sobbed, my eyes flooded with tears. "I—I just can't! I can't live without you, Oliver, even for just a day! What if—what if you'd be gone for a year? Or two years? That's too long for me! I can't take it!"

He pushed my hands off his shoulder, then held them with his own hands. "Harry, listen to me," he said, looking at me straight in the eye. "There's nothing you have to worry about, honey, I'm gonna be fine! I promise you, I'll come back; no matter how long it'll take for me to come back, trust me, I will. Okay? All I need is your approval now, so please, I beg you, please let me go. Please?"

He forced out a pleading smile, waiting for my response while I sighed in helplessness. This was my weakness; I couldn't say 'no' to him.

Actually I just could hold my head high, said 'no', and refused to hear any more from him straight away, but, as always, he knew I wouldn't.

Knew I couldn't.

Instead, I took a deep breath before finally nodding unwillingly.

His reaction was beyond expectation. He dashed forward, hugged me tight, then ran to our room to begin packing his things, while at the same time, I was silently crying inside me.

How could I ever object whatever he did?

-----

The noisy sound of the train chiming escorted Oliver's departure to the headquarters of the army. He stood there right in front of me, gorgeous as ever, wearing a typical army uniform. In his right hand was clutched a big suitcase, and his wand was held in the left one. In hearing the chiming sound that indicated he had to get on board, he sighed, then said, "Well, guess I gotta go now.."

He gave me this sincere smile that broke my heart. I just froze where I was, too hopeless to even move, feeling like I wanted to cry but somehow I just couldn't.

Suddenly, Oliver dropped his suitcase, then leaned forward to wrap his hands around me for one last time. This time, he buried his face in my shoulders and started to sob uncontrollably while I hugged him with all I was worth, not wanting to ever let go.

"I'm gonna miss you, sweetheart," he whispered in my ears softly. "Trust me, I will."

"Me too," I replied. "Promise me to come back soon, will you?"

He nodded. "I promise."

He released his grip reluctantly, and I pushed myself away from him. He glanced sweetly at me with his brown eyes, then stroked my face with his smooth fingers gently. He brushed off the tears that had been gushing down my cheeks, throwing away the pain I was feeling when he did so. He nodded with self-assurance, encouraging me to be strong without him by my side, and, without realizing that I did, I had smiled with sincerity of letting him go for the first time.

"Take care of yourself when I'm away, alright?" he asked.

"I will," I vowed.

Oliver picked up his suitcase, then started to walk to the compartment in which he was placed. When he had reached it and had climbed up to it, he stopped by the entrance and looked back at me. He flailed his hands at me while grinning ear to ear; I could tell he was feeling extremely proud of himself at that time. Proud of being a part of an extremely powerful force fighting the Dark Arts.

I should've been proud of him as well, and I guess I was proud.

The train began to move, slowly leaving the station. I ran, chasing it, shouting Oliver's name, while my lover on the train waved at me with all his might, telling me to take care of myself for him. I ran and ran, until the train was out of sight, but I still couldn't believe I had just let the person I loved the most go. I fell to the ground, out of breath and desperate while teardrops kept on falling from me.

"OLIVER…!" I beckoned. "NOOOO!!!"

-----

"Harry! Harry! Are you okay?"

I opened my eyes slowly to find the familiar faces of my Ron and Hermione right in front of me. I blinked a few times, adjusting my sensitive eyes to the fluorescent morning light all around me while trying to regain full consciousness. I looked and Hermione, whimpered, then asked, "Uhh.. what's the matter, guys?"

Hermione looked concerned. "Harry, Ron and I had just Apparated inside your flat, and the first thing we saw was you; here you are, sleeping without even changing your clothes and calling Oliver's name over and over again. Are you planning any more morning surprises for us after this? And by the way, happy birthday."

"What do you mean by morning surprises?" I yawned, trying to get rid of sleepiness in my mind.

"Harry, mate, it's not usual seeing you all downcast like this," Ron said seriously. "Especially not on your birthday."

I snorted. "What's the use of birthdays, after all? All it does is just turn me a year older every time it comes around."

"Harry, we're not going to discuss about the use of birthdays any further," Hermione interrupted grimly, pulling me by the hand to make me stand up. "Now just go to the bathroom, take a bath, and prepare yourself to go! Quick!"

She began to push me from behind, but I halted her at once, asking, "B-but where do I have to go?"

Hermione sighed in annoyance. "Oh, c'mon, for heaven's sake, we're going to Diagon Alley, Harry! Don't you remember you've promised just two days ago to help me buy things for my teaching properties?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I totally forgot," I said, smacking myself on the forehead weakly. "Alright, alright, stop pushing me, Hermione, I can walk by myself, okay?"

I sauntered towards the bathroom, my hazel eyes still half-closed of the obstinate sleepiness that just wouldn't go away from me. When I had arrived in it and was about to close the door, Hermione shouted, "And don't forget to change your clothes, Harry!"

I smiled, closed the door behind me, then turned around, facing the magnificent, marble-tiled, blue-dominated bathroom with ancient carvings decorating the walls. A large bath-tub was located at the corner, and there was also a small shower cabin stuffed right beside the tub. The only light present inside was a magical candle that was hung on the ceiling in the middle of the room. Oliver designed all of them as well, of course; how smart of him knowing that blue was my favorite color.

I stopped to look at a big picture of Oliver and me on the wall just above the bath-tub. I was smiling with undoubted joy while Oliver was hugging me from behind, hie flawlessly handsome face showing fervent ardor and bliss. We looked so happy together in the picture, let alone fulfilled. But the feeling of happiness was barely there in me at that time without him present by my side.

I sighed. Oh, well.

I got undressed, then advanced forward to go inside the shower cabin and sled the door closed. I turned on the shower, causing warm water to instantly pour down on me, totally waking me up this time. The steam fogged the cabin walls with water vapor artistically, slowly blocking my clear view of outside the cabin, and the warm water somehow made me feel a lot better, and also relaxed.

I lifted my right hand to touch the misty glass wall in front of me. Holding my breath, I scribbled Oliver's name with my finger only to erase it almost immediately after I'd done with it. I repeated the action over and over again, letting tears fall down from my eyes as I did so and indirectly allowing the pain of missing him to consummate me from the inside even more violently.

Oliver, I miss you, I said, calling for him. Please, please tell me, when will you come back home? 'Cause this Boy Who Lived doesn't seem to be able to cope with his condition any longer. Please…

I finished taking a bath in around fifteen minutes. I had put on a fresh pair of jeans I had taken from my closet and let a black-colored shirt hang around my body unbuttoned when I came out of the bathroom while drying my raven hair with a towel. Ron and Hermione, who were looking out of the window in my room to the busy street underneath, were relieved to see my new look; I guess I had transfigured from 'Potter the Devastated' to 'Hypnotizing Harry' in their point of view by reading the looks on their surprised faces. Hermione even stood up at once when I appeared in front of her, grinned cheerfully, and said, "Gosh, Harry, just look at you now! You—you look very much handsome!"

I smiled, feeling both flattered and sheepish at the compliment. "T-thanks. Do you like it?"

Hermione nodded, still transfixing her eyes on me. When I looked at Ron, he seemed a bit, well, jealous.

Perhaps I'd apologize to him later, after Hermione had finished admiring me, whom I personally thought hadn't got even a single thing to be proud of.

He cleared his throat, trying to get a grip of himself. "Shall we go now?" he asked.

"Whenever you like, Professor Weasley," I joked, snickering.

His face turned red. "Stop teasing me," he said. "I envy you, Harry, really; I wish I had passed that bloody Auror test like you did…"

"Oh, Ron, cut it out," Hermione snapped sharply. "Being a teacher at Hogwarts isn't bad at all. It's fun, don't you agree?"

Ron forced out a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, but that's your job," he replied. "I know being a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is the most strategic position everybody wants to achieve, but not with my position as the Potions Master. Working with that Snape git as my assistant isn't fun at all; sometimes I feel like I want to make a potion that can turn him to sleep for a thousand years or more so that he'll be gone every time I teach!"

Hermione and I responded with an uncontrollable laugh. I glanced at my two best friends alternately, and as I did so, I couldn't help thanking the Powers that Be who had sent me this two people to be the ones I could hold on to whenever I needed somebody to lean on. Not only that they would always be there for me, but what I really thanked them about was that they also could accept me the way I am, as a person, especially in my being gay. Just by being with them, my problems seemed to obliterate themselves from my mind, and when I laughed with them, I felt somehow complete.

I smiled meaningfully at them, then muttered. "Thanks, guys, thanks for everything."

Ron looked puzzled, but Hermione got my point. "Anytime, Harry," she replied profoundly.

I took a deep breath, a cheerful expression stuck on my face, and punched Ron's shoulders playfully. He responded by beaming at me.

Then I clicked my fingers, asking, "Are we all ready to go?"

Ron and Hermione nodded simultaneously.

I closed my eyes, followed by the two, then a second later the three of us had disappeared with a loud crack, heading for our favorite spot: the Diagon Alley.

-----

Going shopping at the Diagon Alley somehow made me feel slightly comfortable, though I didn't understand why. I spent around two hours going all around the ceaselessly-busy place, with Ron and Hermione in the lead. It seemed that they visited every single shop they passed by and stayed inside for fifteen minutes, buying and bargaining things that they thought would be useful to support their teaching method. Hermione even stopped by a cramped shop selling magical creatures in order to find a Boggart for her third years and spent a whole twenty minutes arguing with a plump woman who was the seller in charge whether her only Boggart left could cost no more than two Galleons since it was already old and crotchety.

Two hours later, I was caught up with a bunch of shopping bags in my both hands, straggling behind Ron and Hermione who was carrying even more shopping bags with them. A tiny, black-covered book was stuffed inside my shirt pocket, wrapped in a set of fancy, see-through wrapping paper. It was titled 'Close Shaves: A Smart Guide for Daredevil Aurors', and it was actually a birthday present from Ron.

I was sweating like mad, but I didn't care. This was what I liked from going out; sweating under the blistering hotness of the sun, mingling among the crowds of my kind, forgetting what the rest of the world was doing. At this kind of moment, I felt completely at home; where I truly belong, and where nothing mattered to me anymore.

"Harry! Come and have a look at this, will ya?"

Ron's loud voice beckoning my name broke my trance off. I immediately hastened my pace to approach him and Hermione, who were both pausing in front of a display window. When I arrived beside them, I realized they were staring at the latest version of the Firebolt displayed behind the glass. It gleamed majestically as a ray of light penetrated the glass and struck it.

"Bloody hell!" I heard Ron exclaiming with admiration. "It's—it's totally out of this world! WOW! How beautiful!"

I nodded as a sign of agreement. "Uh-huh."

'Wow, it reminds me of the old days," Ron continued. "It reminds me of Quidditch, of the goalposts, of Oliver…"

He stopped because Hermione had just jabbed him on the shoulders, signing him to stop talking, but it was too late.

When he mentioned Oliver's name, it felt like all those memories I'd shared with Oliver surged back into my mind, paralyzing me one more time.

"S-sorry, Harry," Ron muttered, apologizing under his breaths. "I—I didn't mean to, I…"

I turned to him and forced out a bitter smile. "Nah, that's okay, Ron, it's alright,"

"B-but…"

"Ron, trust me, I'm okay," I said, my voice shaking with every word that escaped my mouth. I handed him the shopping bags, then continued, "I guess—I guess I gotta go now. I'm exhausted. You guys just continue shopping without me, alright? When you're finished, just find me at the Leaky Cauldron; I'll wait for you guys there. See ya!"

I turned around, then started to leave Ron and Hermione behind at full speed. I felt like crying, but I couldn't, and wouldn't, especially in a public place like this. As I extended the distance between me and the two, I could still hear Hermione's shrill voice half-shouting, "How tactless of you, Ron!!"

Somehow in hearing her voice, I felt like smiling. But it wasn't enough for me to actually do the act of smiling.

As I found my way to the Leaky Cauldron, I couldn't stop cursing myself.

How stupid of me, running away from reality.

I arrived at the surprisingly-empty place, then immediately headed for the tapster behind the bar. He beamed sympathetically at me, greeting, "Good day! Fancy a drink?"

"A bottle of Butterbeer, please," I mumbled, sitting spiritlessly on a chair situated in front of the bar.

The bartender blinked one eye at me, bent down to get me my order, then reappeared to hand me a fresh-looking bottle of Butterbeer, completed with a tall glass.

"Just take back the glass, if you don't mind," I said to him at once. "I don't think I'm gonna use it at all."

The bartender complied without a word. He gave me one last cheerful smile and was out of sight after that.

I gazed at my bottle, smirking at myself, then took a large gulp of it, draining almost half of it at one time.

I suddenly remembered that I got the habit of drinking straight from the bottle from Oliver. He was never into glasses; a straight-forward person like him loved doing things without thinking twice, so he hated things that took time to enjoy, like for example drinking from the glass, which meant wasting time to pour out the liquid from the bottle first before drinking.

Ah, how Oliver had turned my world upside down with his love…

At that very moment, I realized that I'd been missing Oliver so much; so damn much it was driving me crazy by the minute.

I searched my pockets, found my wallet, then brought it in front of me. I opened it to find a moving picture of Oliver in his National Quidditch Team robe, smiling at me while waving his hands gleefully at me. His handsome face looked very much without burden, and he looked all flawless in the very least.

I stroked the picture with my forefinger slowly, and as I did so, I couldn't help but sigh. It felt as if it had been a thousand agonizing years since I last had him inside my embrace. I missed his smile, his voice, his touch, his—his everything…

Oh, Oliver, please, please come back. Please…

I was lost in thoughts until after a while the familiar voice of Ron calling my name.

"Harry! We're back!" he said buoyantly, breaking me from my trance.

I nodded, but didn't turn to see him. "Yeah, I know," I grumbled, barely making any sound coming out of my vocal chords.

"Harry?" Ron drew nearer to me, his voice sounding worried. "Wh-what happened? You don't look well."

"Nah, I'm okay," I replied, starting to get irritated. "C'mon, stop worrying about me, alright? I'm fucking okay, Ron, get it?"

"Whoa, calm down, mate, what's with the attitude?" he chuckled. "I'm just trying to help, Harry, nothing else."

I grasped my Butterbeer, then took another sip of it spiritlessly. "Whatever."

Suddenly Hermione appeared from nowhere, giggling while shouting, "Harry! Look, I've finally found you a present!"

I idly turned to see her holding a silver-colored box labeled 'Multi-Purpose, All-in-One Auror Helping Kit' in front of her. She was grinning brightly, and by the look on her face I could tell that she hoped I would like her present.

I forced out a smile. "Er, thanks, Hermione, I really appreciate it," I said.

Hermione put the box on the table beside me, then sat on a chair next to mine, followed by Ron who immediately sat on the other side of me. She fixed her stare—the typical anxious-Hermione one, I should say—at me, then muttered, "Harry, please, cheer up, will you? I can't take it anymore now; you're not making things better for everyone, especially for you! Please, stop acting as if there's no tomorrow, 'cause whatever you do, nothing's gonna change, at all!"

I sighed helplessly. "I know, Hermione, I know that," I replied, my voice getting weaker as the sentences flew. "But I can't help it! Without Oliver by my side, everything just doesn't seem right! I feel utterly, totally, completely meaningless! What am I without him? Can I live without him? I can't Hermione, I can't!"

"I understand, but this isn't the proper way of channeling your feelings, Harry," Hermione advised wisely, her old-self at school returning to her at once. "Well, nobody can prevent you from getting all depressed and sad when your loved one is not with you, and it's normal to miss that person, it's really human, but—but that doesn't mean you have to change your personality and turn into this kind of Harry, does it? Where's the old Harry Potter who'll always smile and stay tough against everything that blocks his way? I wonder."

Her sentences went straight to the point.

I realized I had been stupid, but I just couldn't seem to find a way to get rid of this depression of losing the person I was crazily in love with for a fucking year and a half.

The only thing I could give her as a reply was nothing more than a sarcastic laugh at myself and, as always, a sigh.

"You're right, Hermione," I muttered, already on the verge of tears. "You're right. I've been acting like a loser."

Ron patted my shoulders encouragingly. "Now that's the Harry I know," he said from behind me.

I smiled, nodding heedfully.

All of a sudden, I was startled to see a sturdy hand appearing from nowhere, grasping my half-finished Butterbeer. I didn't know why, but it seemed to me that the texture of the hand seemed somehow… familiar.

"Excuse me, but are you done with this?" the owner of the hand asked with a voice that also seemed somehow… familiar.

I nodded as an answer, my eyes fixed on the table. I wasn't keen to finish it anymore after all, so I didn't care.

But instead of taking the bottle away, the mysterious stranger moved his hand to mine, clasping them together firmly with a touch that once again seemed… familiar.

Surprised as I was, my eyebrows joined in confusion, and still without looking up I asked, "Why are you holding my hand?"

The stranger didn't reply. His grasp on my hand grew tighter, and warmer, and again, somehow… familiar.

Yeah. Even the stranger himself felt somehow… again, familiar, according to my senses, which until then I considered sharp.

Not being able to hold back my curiosity, I looked up, aiming to see the stranger to find that I was facing…

Oliver Wood.

Wh-what the hell—?

My tongue went numb, perhaps so did the rest of my entire body parts. My jaws dropped open, and I could feel myself beginning to quiver beyond control. I narrowed my eyes, blinking a few times to ensure myself I was seeing right, but the enchantingly gorgeous face with that tantalizing smile still wouldn't go away from my vision. Tears flooded my eyes, and without realizing that I did, I started to sob unrestrainedly.

"O-oliver?" I managed to say after a short while of silence between me and him.

Oliver—yes, I was sure the guy was my Oliver—smiled wider, and nodded persistently.

"Yes, Harry," he answered with that unmistakably tender voice. "I'm Oliver, your one and only Oliver."

I still couldn't believe what I saw and heard. "B-but how come—?"

"I'm back now, my dear," Oliver said affectionately. "I'm back to be with you once again, and to never leave you anymore."

More tears gushed down from my eyes, and my sobs soon turned into incorrigible whimpers. I stretched out my right arm and with tremendous effort touched his smooth face with my shivering fingers. I stroked his soft cheeks with the back of my hand; it felt as solid as ever, Oliver caught my hand, brought it to his red lips, then kissed it meaningfully. He gazed into my eyes, his brown gems locking into my hazel ones, not wanting to break the contact.

"Oh, please, somebody tell me that this is a dream," I muttered under my breaths.

Oliver snickered. He ruffled my raven hair lovingly, saying, "How stupid. You're not dreaming, honey. It's really me, in front you, right here, now!"

At that instant moment, all my doubts had gone. I couldn't confine myself anymore. I rushed onto him and caught him in an embrace.

Oliver wrapped his arms around me, and I collapsed in his warm hug, never wanting to let go of him.

"Don't let go, please don't," I pleaded between sobs.

Oliver nodded. "I won't."

I buried my face in his shoulders, then started to cry my heart out while he patted my back, making circular motions with his hands slowly, comforting me with his loving touch. Lying in his arms, I could smell his ever-present typical smell that only he himself produced in this whole world. That ensured me that he was actually my only Oliver.

We released our hug after a while, both grinning from ear to ear of relief. When I looked at Hermione and Ron, they were putting their thumbs up, their faces signing pure joy, feeling happy for me.

Oliver took me by the hand, then started to pull me to come with him. "C'mon, let's go upstairs, I've booked a room for us in this inn," he said enthusiastically.

I gave in to his strength and followed him. He brought me upstairs to a room numbered '6', my favorite number. We got inside, then Oliver locked the door.

I sat on the bed located inside the room and waited for him apprehensively. The smile that was stuck into my face seemed to make itself permanent; I just couldn't stop smiling even for a fraction of a second. My mind started guessing what other surprises he might have prepared after this, and as I did so, I couldn't help… well, smiling.

Oliver approached me, and our eyes met as he sat down on the bed beside me. He beamed, reaching out his hand to touch the smooth skin of my face with the back of his palm tenderly with care. I could feel his warm touch against my cheek once again after a long time waiting, at last.

"Ah, how I miss this face," Oliver muttered thoughtfully. "How I miss this raven hair, this smooth skin, this eyes, this lips, this nose, this scar, this—this Harry… how I miss this only person whom I loved in this world for a painful year and a half… "

I took his hand and clasped it with mine, saying, "And how I miss you too, you know that, sweetheart?"

I touched his chest, but suddenly he jerked backward and grimaced in pain. Shocked at the unexpected response, I instantly got panicked. "S-sorry, Oliver, I didn't mean to hurt you! W-what happened? Are you hurt? Is it—is it…"

"Harry, my dear, calm down," he uttered lightly in seeing my frenzied actions. "I'm fine; this is just an old scar reopened. A small wound of the war, that's all. trust me, I'm fine."

I went silent, but still I stared at him with doubt. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He nodded, smiling reassuringly. "Yeah, I'm okay. At least I'm okay enough to do this."

Suddenly, without warning, Oliver grasped the back of my head, then pulled me closer to him a bit roughly so that my face was right in front of his own. He looked at me straight in the eye before finally locking his lips onto mine in an everlasting kiss.

I was totally lost. This was what I had been waiting for a year and a half. I had been waiting for him to come back, and now he had at last fulfilled my hope.

I gave in to his total control and surrendered in his hold. I didn't object when he forcefully pushed me back, positioning me spread-eagled onto the bed, then crawled on top of me until his face stopped right in front of mine. He craned his neck forward to bring his face closer to me, his brown gems never breaking contact with my hazel ones, and I could feel his breaths blowing softly against the smooth skin of my face as he did so.

His eyes didn't move as he whispered, "Happy birthday, honey."

I responded with a sincere smile in hearing his long-awaited greeting. I reached up my hand to touch his handsome face before he collapsed onto me, burying his face on my shoulders, gently nibbling it.

I gave one last thought about what was going to happen silently, and I smiled naughtily.

I nudged my fingers deep into his brown hair, giving in to his charge completely, then closed my eyes.

After that, well, there wasn't really any time for thinking.

-----

When I awoke, dawn was already streaming through the window. A single ray of morning sunlight greeted my face as I opened my eyes, waking up from a slumber that seemed like forever. The whole room was by then illuminated by countless threads of sunshine spreading all over the narrow space that looked as if they wanted to show me what a beautiful morning it was today.

I raised myself up to sitting position, then took a look around. My vision rested on the slender figure of my lover sleeping soundly by my side without anything but a thin piece of white blanket covering half of his flawless body. His eyes were closed, and he looked, well, gorgeous as ever with those red lips, innocent face, and—and everything else about him. He was perfect, for sure.

I carefully touched his face, feeling his soft skin against my fingers with every stroke I did. Though he was there, right in front of me, I still couldn't believe the reality of him coming back to be by my side once again. It was just… unbelievable to have him back in the most unforeseen time of my life.

Oliver moaned, then slowly opened his eyes. Rolling onto his back, he groaned, "Uhmm… morning already?"

"Yep, it is. Rise and shine, you sleepyhead!" I joked, giggling in seeing his still-sleepy puppy face looking at me, pleading to be allowed to get back to sleep. I threw a pillow to his face, yelling, "Come on, wake up! Don't be lazy, come on!"

He forced out a sluggish smile. "Oh, Harry, you know I'm always not a morning person. Please, just let me sleep for five more minutes. Please?"

"Oliver…" I snickered, pulling him by the hand to make him wake up. He laughed, dashing towards me then started to tickle me devilishly with his fingers.

"Stop it, Oliver! You know I'm ticklish!" I tried to run away from his deadly tickles, but he locked me tight so that I couldn't break free.

Oliver chortled like mad. "No way! This is what you'll get when you mess up with Mighty Oliver! Haaaaa!"

I wriggled and wriggled, and finally I could break free. I ran around the room with him chasing me, laughing like there was no tomorrow. I kept on begging him to stop while he stubbornly didn't want to comply. So there we was, just the two of us, enjoying the exchange of the wasted moments during the eighteen months of loneliness. One thing was for sure; nothing was going to break us apart one more time. Nothing.

I spent a single moment to look at my lover's face once again during the chasing, and suddenly my mind told me to stop running. So I halted, turned around, then stretched out my hands to receive him into my hug.

He rested his head on my shoulder, and as he did so, he whispered, "I don't want this moment to end."

I nodded, ruffling his hair with my fingers gently. "Neither do i."

He looked up to see me, and our eyes met.

"I love you," he uttered with a smile.

I didn't reply. I knew he had known the response already. Instead, I just grinned meaningfully, then tightened my grip around him, drawing him closer to me.

I sighed in relief. This was the best birthday of my life.

This was the best birthday of my life, because in this special day, I could be reunited at last with the most special person in my heart.

A person named Oliver Wood.

-----

PS: Awww, how cute! I spent like two weeks to finish this with all those freaky exams whatsoever hindering my ideas and consuming my time to keep writing. Is this good? Don't forget to post your reviews, and sorry if the story, especially the ending, is not as good as the opening part! Heheh thanks a million!