I closed my eyes and stared down at the copy of the Daily Prophet in my lap. It was opened to the Sports section and was mostly on the England Quidditch Nationals. Puddlemere had won. The even more fantastic thing was that Oliver had been keeper in that winning game. In the semi-final game, the first-string Puddlemere Keeper had injured himself and Oliver had gone in. And then he'd played in the final. And then they'd won.
Oliver had been ecstatic then scared then nervous then anxious then back to nervous throughout the whole thing. I, of course, hadn't been able to go to his game, no matter how much I begged and pleaded. After the Draco incident, regardless of what had happened, McGonagall had sent home an owl to my parents and they'd laid strict ground rules and I was not allowed to take off to see him. Even though it was probably the most important game of his life. After, though, he'd told me that it was probably better that I hadn't gone because he'd been nervous enough and having me there probably would have made him even more so.It made sense, I supposed, but I was enraged all the same. I was almost 18, almost an adult. I had the belief that I would be able to make decisions based on my own judgement. Apparently not...
¤ ¤ ¤
But, no, that wasn't giving me that sick feeling in my stomach, it wasn't making my eyes sting. It was the picture in the paper. The picture of Oliver with a tall, leggy, beautiful looking blond. Who was she and what was she doing arm in arm with my boyfriend? They looked cozy and happy, walking into the victory banquet arm in arm, large smiles on their faces.
I'd sent him an owl a few days ago but he still hadn't replied. I was trying not to freak out because there obviously was a fantastic explanation for this... I was just waiting for it to appear.
¤ ¤ ¤
"Harry, have you talked to Oliver lately?" I asked as I sat down at the breakfast table. He shook his head. "No, not lately? Why? Haven't you?" I shook my head. "No."He patted my arm gently. "He'll owl you, Hermione, don't worry... They just have to do all this promotional stuff and resigning and loads of crazy things to be taken care of..."
"He's right, Hermione," Ron added. "I've read it in Quidditch weekly. They're loads of things they have to do. It's crazy."
I shook my head. "Well, he's not busy enough to be going out with beautiful blonds..."
Harry and Ron groaned simultaneously.
"We hoped you wouldn't see that picture..." Ron started.
"Yeah, but I'm sure it's not that bad..." Harry added. "She's probably a friend."
"Or an old girlfriend," added Ron helpfully then froze, his mouth still open. Then his jaw clicked shut and he closed his eyes.
Harry shot him a glare before turning back to Hermione. But she was gone, sweeping out the door, paper clutched in her hands. "Hermione!" he called after her, but she was already out of sight. He turned back to Ron. "Great job, Ron...."
Ron nodded miserably. "I've a knack for saying the wrong thing, don't I?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, but let's hope you're wrong... for Oliver's sake..."
¤ ¤ ¤
I went straight up to the owlery. That was it. I was going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what. I wrote a note to Oliver,
Oliver, I don't care if you've decided that being a Quidditch player is the most important thing to you – it should be, but do not pretend to be a sweet and charming man towards me if you do not really mean it. If you want to break up with me then go ahead. No, actually, I'll make it easy for you. We're over, unless you'd like to explain to me why you haven't even talked to me in the past two weeks and also if you'd like to add a small explanation about the blond girl in the picture with you at the World Cup Ball, it would be greatly appreciated. I'm not angry, Oliver, though it may seem like it... but I just don't think that we're able to have a real relationship if you're trying to be a professional Quidditch player and I'm trying to be a student and we're forever a million miles apart. I think you are a great Quidditch player and will succeed in everything you try at but you really need to focus on that right now. So, that's it. I hope that we can remain friends after this. Goodbye Oliver, Hermione.Rolling it up, I tied it to Hedwig, who'd landed softly on my shoulder, nuzzling me softly. I sniffed back tears and petted Hedwig. "Go," I said softly, then leaned against the window frame to watch the snowy owl disappear. I took a deep breath. Well, that was that. I turned and went back down to my room and cried.
¤ ¤ ¤
I was awoken in the middle of the night by a gentle tapping on my window. Rolling over, I opened it to find Hedwig on mysill, a small package in her claws. I moved back as the owl hopped in and dropped it in my lap.
I carefully unwrapped it to find a letter as a rose dropped into my lap. I frowned. This was not a good start to a letter in reply to a breakup letter. I opened it,
Hermione, Come to the Quidditch pitch. Oliver I frowned. What? But that was it. The short note and a rose.Getting out of bed, I quickly changed into clothes and slipped out of the Gryffindor dorm, down the stairs, and out the door. I started towards the Quidditch pitch, seeing his dark figure standing stock still in the middle of the pitch, looking up at the stars.
"Oliver..." I started as I neared.
He turned. His face was grave and a pained look stole across it before he looked away. "No, Hermione. I have to talk to you. I have to tell you something." He faced me again and took two steps towards me, hands stretched before him before faltering and they dropped to his side.
I swallowed my words. This was the time to find out the truth. "Okay, talk. Tell me everything."
He nodded. "Okay, well, here's the thing. The woman you saw was Theodora Puddlestein. She's an old girlfriend of mine. We saw each other during third and fourth year. It was a very big relationship for me. I was so wrecked when she broke up with me I couldn't even play Quidditch for a week." He smiled wryly then continued doggedly on as I stared impassively at him, a blank look on my face. "So, when she showed up after the game, I was so happy to have won and to see her that I invited her to the Ball with me. We were old friends and that's what old friends do. I was so happy about the game and so involved with everything that I didn't have time to send you an owl. And I know that's a stupid excuse," he said quickly, seeing me open my mouth to protest. "but I seriously didn't mean to... And then at the Ball I had too much to drink and Theo had too much to drink and I hadn't told her about you because it never came up and we ended up back at my hotel room. I didn't even realize that I was kissing her until she undid the buttons of my shirt. I'm sorry Hermione. I'm so sorry..." He came towards me again but I backed away.
"What happened, Oliver?" I asked woodenly. But I already knew.
He sighed. "It happened Hermione. I slept with her and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't even really want to. I wanted you to be there and I think I just imagined you there and then before I realized it, it was too late..." He looked down at his hands as if they had the answer. "I know I can't say anything to make this any better for you but I'm really and truly sorry and if I could do it again then I wouldn't have."
I folded my arms across my chest. "Okay."
He looked up at me, startled. "What?"
"I said, 'okay.' It's not like I can change it, Oliver... You've made your decision and I've made mine." I straightened up. "So that's that." I turned to go but he grabbed me by the arm.
"No, Hermione, that can't be it. You can't just throw away everything that we could have that we do have on one stupid little mistake that I've made..." He gripped my shoulders tightly.
"We can get through this."
I flinched. "You're hurting me..."
"You're killing me..." he replied. "Ever since I met you, I see things differently. School wasn't just something that I did between Quidditch practices, it was fun and interesting and that's because of you. My life is no longer driven by Qudditch and for that I am thankful to you. I don't think that I could have gotten through the season without you. I think I would have quit when they didn't give me first-string. I hate to lose, Hermione, you know that. And I'm not losing you."
I stood still, studying him. "This is going to take a lot of hard work, Oliver."
"I know."
"And you're going to have to earn my trust again. It's not just something I toss to anyone..."
He closed his eyes. "I know."
"And if you do this to me ever again, I will beat you with a shovel..."
He snorted with laughter. "Alright, if I ever do it again, I'll let you..."
I reached out to him. "What am I going to do with you Oliver, honestly?"
He gathered me into his arms, wrapping us both in his cloak. "I dunno, Hermione, I really don't..."
Note: Hope that's long enough... next chapter – the romance! :D Let me know what you think and suggestions are totally welcome because I don't really know where I'm going with this... thanks to all who reviewed! Ciao!
