Note: Oh, yes, and this is allllllllll AU… Their ages are all wonky so it's not so messed up and wrong for them to be together… say, I dunno… Hermione and Harry and all them are one or two years younger than Oliver and his crew… well, enjoy… and please review!
I watched the Qudditch team practice. The days were getting longer as summer approached and so Oliver had the team practicing longer as well. "Have to keep ahead of the competition," he'd say, dead serious as the team burst into giggles behind his back.
It was about nine o'clock and they were winding down, zooming towards the ground. The Weasley twins were playing chicken against each other and Harry had already gone in – I knew he had to study because we had a test the next day in Advanced Transfiguration and he'd left it to the last minute – of course. I sat patiently in the stands as they landed and started towards the dressing room. I watched Oliver walk after the others, throwing a wink my way and momentarily melting me into a puddle before I steeled myself. There was no way that I could let him take down my defenses. We had to talk about this. This had to be serious, too the point, and productive. Impersonal, if you would. No room for going goggly-eyed as a first-year at the sight of him.
I waited for him to come back out – he was the last – his hair wet and spiky, his eyes dancing with left-over exhilaration from his favourite thing in the world, Quidditch. He moved with the grace and beauty of one who was in athletics his whole life. He spotted me getting up from the stands and started towards me, his grin growing. "Hermione… what brings you by the Quidditch pitch this time of night?" he drawled, his eyes dancing because he already knew, or thought he knew.
I stood straight and faced him. "Oliver-"
Interrupted by his soft lips and hands sliding around my waist, his gear dropping to the ground.
I melted into him, kissing back, willing myself to believe he wasn't doing this for a bet or as a dare or something of the sort. The little voice in the back of my head yelled shrilly, "Regroup! Regroup!" and I stepped back away from him. "Oliver, we need to talk."
He blinked, stunned. "About what?"
I laughed. "About what? About this, Oliver… you can't just keep doing this to me without explanation!"
"Can't a guy kiss the girl he likes?"
I looked at him squarely. "Is that what this is?"
He stared straight back at me. "Of course… what did you think, that I had a bet going with my friends? 'Whoever bags Hermione first gets such and such a sum of gold?' Come on Hermione… I hope you think better of me than that…" He reached out to me and raised his eyebrows.
I looked into his eyes and hesitated. It wasn't that I didn't believe him but at the same time… what if it was just a line? What if it was what he used on every girl he got with? I wanted to believe him. So badly. But still…
His eyes flashed hurt and he threw up his hands. "What would you have me do, Hermione? What would convince you that it was for real?"
"I-I don't know…" I replied, startled.
He grabbed my arm. "Here, let's go…" And started to drag me across the pitch.
"Wha- Oliver, stop it… what are you doing? Where are we going?"
"The Great Hall…" he replied.
"Wha-?"
"I'm going to tell everyone… if that's what it takes…"
I shook my head. "Oliver… that's not going to fix this…"
He stopped and threw up his hands. "Well, what do you want from me then?! What would it take? Why can't you just trust me?"
I stumbled back a few paces. "I don't know…" I replied in a small voice.
He frowned. "Well, when you do, let me know…" Stomping back to the stands, he grabbed his gear and stormed off.
I waited until he was out of sight before sitting down and bursting into tears. It wasn't fair! It wasn't supposed to end like this… he was supposed to tell me that he was madly in love with me (which he kinda did) and then we'd kiss and… well, I don't know what would happen after that but really… come on…
I felt raindrops on her arm and looked up at the clouds. "Pathetic fallacy at its best…"
¤ ¤ ¤
"Oliver looked so stormy this morning… wonder what happened?"
"He's just anxious about the next match…"
"He still looks awfully cute when he frowns…"
Everywhere. It was everywhere.
I couldn't get away from it. Everyone was talking about Oliver and his angry moods. At breakfast, in Advanced Transfiguration, in the halls, in the common room, in the girls dorm… come to think of it, it was always girls… I sighed. Maybe he was a player and I was better off without him anyway.
Except, when I saw him, I still felt that pang. Like, I'd been punched in the stomach.
I avoided the library and the memories that swelled up. I spent most of my time outside, down by the lake, as far from the Quidditch Pitch as possible. But I always found my gaze drifting towards it…
In the halls I've caught him looking at me… well, I think I did anyway. I know that I sent one too many wistful looks his way, then bit my lip and hurried on.
I'd really messed things up this time… I really had…
